*~*The Ever Spirit*~*
There was an eerie silence surrounding the Great Road as an Elf led a Man and four Hobbits down the road. One Hobbit, mounted upon a great white horse, looked half dead. His skin was gray and ashy; his eyes were clouded over, and he didn't appear to know where he was. The hobbit closest to him, who was leading a pony laden with belongings, looked extremely worried as he looked up at his dieing friend. They had done all they could do for him, now his life was left to chance. Sam sighed and looked away, he was there to help Mister Frodo on his journey but it appeared that the journey was about over. Let's just pray that Elrond is a miracle worker like Glorfindel tells us. If not Mister Frodo is- Sam couldn't let himself finish the thought.
Depressed, Sam looked down the dismal road. Sam blinked to clear his vision, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again, but he still saw it. A little way down the road, under a tree, there laid the crumpled form of a woman. Sam glanced at Strider and was rewarded with a look of pure astonishment on the Man's face. Softly he whispered, "You see her too, don't you Strider?" And without a word Strider was gone. Twice Sam saw him running through the trees, but he disappeared each time. Within moments of his departure Strider was by the woman's side. He gently turned her over so that her face wasn't in the ground, and took in a sharp breath as he looked at her face. It was understandably dirty but it was also covered with cuts and bruises. Her simple homespun dress was made in the style of Minhiriath, and was torn to shreds and on her stomach a gash He gently turned her over so that her face wasn't in the ground, and took in a sharp breath as he looked at her face. It was understandably dirty but it was also covered with cuts and bruises. Her simple homespun dress was made in the style of Minhiriath, and was torn to shreds and on her stomach a gash was still bleeding. Her feet were red and swollen, probably from running a long way, he thought. Her chest moved ever so slightly, the one sign that she lived. This girl had been beaten, severely beaten.
There was an eerie silence surrounding the Great Road as an Elf led a Man and four Hobbits down the road. One Hobbit, mounted upon a great white horse, looked half dead. His skin was gray and ashy; his eyes were clouded over, and he didn't appear to know where he was. The hobbit closest to him, who was leading a pony laden with belongings, looked extremely worried as he looked up at his dieing friend. They had done all they could do for him, now his life was left to chance. Sam sighed and looked away, he was there to help Mister Frodo on his journey but it appeared that the journey was about over. Let's just pray that Elrond is a miracle worker like Glorfindel tells us. If not Mister Frodo is- Sam couldn't let himself finish the thought.
Depressed, Sam looked down the dismal road. Sam blinked to clear his vision, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again, but he still saw it. A little way down the road, under a tree, there laid the crumpled form of a woman. Sam glanced at Strider and was rewarded with a look of pure astonishment on the Man's face. Softly he whispered, "You see her too, don't you Strider?" And without a word Strider was gone. Twice Sam saw him running through the trees, but he disappeared each time. Within moments of his departure Strider was by the woman's side. He gently turned her over so that her face wasn't in the ground, and took in a sharp breath as he looked at her face. It was understandably dirty but it was also covered with cuts and bruises. Her simple homespun dress was made in the style of Minhiriath, and was torn to shreds and on her stomach a gash He gently turned her over so that her face wasn't in the ground, and took in a sharp breath as he looked at her face. It was understandably dirty but it was also covered with cuts and bruises. Her simple homespun dress was made in the style of Minhiriath, and was torn to shreds and on her stomach a gash was still bleeding. Her feet were red and swollen, probably from running a long way, he thought. Her chest moved ever so slightly, the one sign that she lived. This girl had been beaten, severely beaten.