Hey everyone. Sorry about the long wait. I just want to mention there's a bunch of quotes from the book "Fellowship of the Ring" that I borrowed for accuracy and effect. The next chapter will be up tomorrow, as soon as I finish typing it.

Chapter Four: Glorfindel

Terrified he pulled it off, and flung it away, putting his face in his hands and casting himself down upon his knees. For the moment he was unaware of anything but the horror and guilt that were wracking his body. He cowered on the ground where he kneeled, and let the fear and revulsion take over. His distress was beyond tears; he stared blindly at the ground ahead of him.

Merry crouched down and put a hand roughly on his shoulder.

"Sam, what's the matter? What's happened?"

"It's taking me," Sam muttered as he took the hand that Merry extended to help him up. He wasn't entirely sure that the younger hobbit had heard him.

Hooves. And far away, that unearthly moan.

"Oh, look what I've gone and done, now!" Sam said roughly, angry with himself.

"What? Done what?" Merry asked, utterly confused as they took flight.

Sam's heart stopped. They hadn't seen him put it on. They didn't know he had given in.

"This way! Make haste!" Strider yelled, scooping up his pack as the hobbits flew past him. Pippin ran to the pony's side and took the reins, and Sam held onto the saddle where Frodo sat. As they fled, he scooped up the Ring and slid it into his pocket with a look of utmost resentment. He thought he saw Frodo watching him as he did.

"Stop!" Strider said breathlessly. "We'll be overtaken. All we can do now is hide." He was doubled over, clutching his side from running.

The hobbits and the Ranger slid into the brush and down a small hill, putting their hoods up and crouching low.

Frodo was trembling. Sam put a comforting hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. His master's breathing came short and ragged. Sam watched helplessly as Frodo's eyes slid shut, and his hand clutched at his left shoulder.

Strider knelt beside Merry, holding the knotted brush apart with his hands, squinting in the direction of the ever-closer hoofbeats.

"Daro! Ai, Eru, daro…" he said in a hissing whisper.

Sam looked at him. What was he saying?

"Daro…daro," Strider said in a quietly commanding tone. He looked anxious and closed his eyes, frowning and hoping.

So close now.

Sam bit his lip and tried not to breathe. He could sense Merry beside him, whose eyes were bright from anxiety and whose hands were wrung together so tightly that the knuckles were white.

The hoofbeats slowed.

The rider was right in front of them.

Sam hurriedly buttoned his vest pocket shut, and took Frodo's hand in both his own, grasping it as if it were his anchor to the world he knew.

The rider jumped from its mount, and fell with a slight crunch of the crisp fall leaves, as opposed to the heavy metallic crash he should have heard.

"Ai, na vedui Dunedan! Mae govannen!"

Strider scrambled out of the brush. Sam's eyes widened, and he peered out from under cover.

An elf?

So it seemed. Sam heard Strider greet the newcomer in the same tongue, and wrap him in a quick embrace. Sam grinned a little as the elf awkwardly returned it with an odd look on his face, as if he was not used to it.

Frodo coughed, and suddenly the brightened figure turned and noticed the watchers in the wood. He wore a burgundy cloak of velvet, and underneath a dark tunic and faded leather boots. His white-gold hair was tousled from flight, and his clear and stern grey eyes seemed to pierce the dense brush as he made towards it.

Merry and Pippin stumbled out and stood up, in awe more than anything, and stood silently watching as the Ranger continued talking to the fair newcomer.

"Come on, Mr. Frodo," Sam said finally. "Up you get."

Frodo clung to Sam's supporting arm, and slowly got to his feet, and Sam helped him out of the green obscurity.

"This is Glorfindel of the House of Elrond," Strider said, the relief shining plainly on his face.

"Hail, and well met at last! They sent me from Rivendell to look for you. We feared you were in danger on the Road." His gaze rested primarily upon Frodo, who seemed to be waking up and coming out of the fog a bit. Sam shuffled from foot to foot self-consciously.

Glorfindel began speaking to Strider, and without obvious reason, switched to an Elvish tongue. Frodo listened raptly as his friends abandoned comprehension and their thoughts turned elsewhere.

Glorfindel glanced at Sam for a moment, and the hobbit met the gaze. He quailed a bit under the piercing stare, and averted the stern yet gentle eyes. Frodo slumped slightly against his gardener's shoulder, and Sam shifted to hold him up.

Strider glanced at him sidelong.

Sam could feel it. He was the detriment. A danger to them all.

You can't blame them, Sam Gamgee. After what you've done, it's a wonder they haven't left you behind yet.

"Sam."

He glanced at Frodo, who gave him a small grin.

"It'll work. It has to."

Frodo was upon the great white horse the elf had ridden on, his hood drawn up and his white hands grasping the reins. Glorfindel was slowly coaxing the bit into the horse's teeth, softly murmuring to it.

Sam stood nervously beside Pippin. The thing was still in his pocket. Still.

Glorfindel's feet suddenly appeared before Sam's downcast eyes. Sam flinched in surprise as a hand was laid on his shoulder. Slowly he upturned his face to look up at the fair and gentle gaze.

"I know the fear it causes you. But you must carry it for a little while longer. Do it for your master. Do it for Frodo."

The gentle look in his eyes did something at least to comfort Sam. Slowly he nodded and smiled, and as he turned away, some of the guilt in his heart lessened.

Merry and Pippin were talking to Frodo, seeming to be saying goodbye. Sam couldn't hear them.

Then, for the first time in a long while, the shrieking cry echoed in the grey twilight.

"They're close!" Merry cried.

"We have to move…quickly!"

Strider hurriedly fastened Frodo's sword and sheath to the horse's saddle, and wrapped the reins thrice about Frodo's icy and white hand, his fingers slipping on the leather.

Sam put a hand to his own face. This was his fault. All his fault, wasn't it?

There I go again. I went and waded right in before knowing what's what.

If he hadn't put it on…tears pricked at his tired eyes. Suddenly he rushed forward, taking Frodo's hand in his own and gripping it tightly. His friend looked down at him.

"You'll be alright," he whispered fiercely. "Just wait. I'll be close behind."

Frodo managed a small nod as a fit of wheezing shook him again, and Sam felt a weak squeeze from the icy hand.

Against his will he relinquished his friend's hand and stepped back. A tear slid silently down his face as Glorfindel gave a sharp slap to the horse's hindquarters, crying, "Noro lim, Asfaloth! Noro lim!"

And with a crack like a whip, the great white horse reared and crashed into the bleak obscurity of the brush and was gone.

Please review! b Next chapter up tomorrow.