I just want you all to know that there is quite a bit of AU in this chapter, so bear with it. :) Blessings and a very Merry Christmas to you all!

Chapter Fifteen

After their surprising encounter with Bilbo's legendary stone trolls, the company had very abruptly stopped for the better part of two hours.

Aragorn knew that it was most likely folly to stay in one area for so long, especially when they were so close to (and yet so far from) Rivendell. And he wouldn't have done so if Frodo hadn't collapsed after sitting upon the right side of the log.

All the others were so scared and surprised that it took them a moment to realize what had happened.

To Sam, one moment Frodo was sitting next to Aragorn and the next he was laying upon the cold, leaf strewn ground. The fact that he was also unconscious, which was explained a bit later, sent the Gamgee into a fearful fit. And though he was doing his absolute best to make the Baggins comfortable, he was only being an annoyance to Strider, who was checking over the limp hobbit.

"Sam, you're not helping anyone…" the man chided as he brushed the hobbit away, trying to get a better feel of what was wrong.

It was difficult when all of the hobbits were circled around the oldest and though Aragorn did his best to get them away so he could concentrate, he still was having trouble understanding what was wrong.

For one thing, he was exhausted beyond what he had ever been and his temper, though not horrible, was only making everyone else anxious. His side ached badly and he was having difficulty putting all his thoughts on Frodo when his own body was pushing for attention as well.

Sam noticed this as he stacked wood together, as Strider had requested. He watched quietly as he gathered twigs, not daring to say a word, for fear of what the man might do.

The hobbit knew in his right mind, Aragorn would never meaningfully hurt them or make them feel like horrible little vagabonds, but he was clearly not himself- though he was trying so hard to be just that.

Merry who was still shaken, by the fact that he thought the trolls might possibly be real and only playing tricks so they could catch the group unaware, was following Pippin as the hobbit looked through their few bags for something the man had asked for to help Frodo. Had he been more rested and less in a panic, he would have tried looking in Strider's bag first, which was the most likely to have the herb he was looking for.

But Pippin, in his frantic state, did not think of this and Merry did not either. Sam was too busy to notice, for he was watching Aragorn and picking up sticks, and Bill- well, Bill wouldn't have been able to say anything, had he known any of this at all.

This is how they went on for a few minutes, and they would of gone on longer had not the silence been replaced by a jingling sound.

Everyone stopped stock-still and Aragorn didn't even breathe. He sat next to Frodo his mouth dry and breath heaving as the world around him became a dizzy mess of Ring wraith cries and jingling bells.

Merry and Pippin crept over to Sam, who had stopped bent over, eyes on Strider and Frodo, but ears on the now evident sound of trotting hooves.

"What is it?" Merry whispered, shaking so hard that Pippin thought his whole entire body might fall apart. "A wraith?"

Samwise, who had now let go of his wood and was standing erect, listened more carefully. "I don't think so… I'm not feeling terrified…" he looked at the trees and noted that all the animals were still chirping and chattering, in truth, they were even more busy and excited than they had been before.

Needless to say that Sam was puzzled. Never before had he heard animals seem so happy to hear a being trot down a forest road. Even Bill's long ears had perked up and his head was held high, though not in fear, but almost in excitement.

Gulping, Sam motioned them to stay where they were and with resolve as well a fear of the unknown, he clambered quietly forward, towards a patch of low mulberry bushes that had been shaded by tree branches.

Brushing aside some of the branches, but not enough that the stranger would see him, Sam looked out, listening for the sounds that he had heard before.

He looked back, hoping to see Aragorn coming over to aid him.

He nearly gasped when he saw the man had fallen backwards and lay motionless upon the ground, a hand to his side and his breath coming out in short gasps.

"Go, help Strider." He breathed to the other two as he turned to look back out onto the dirt road.

Light filtered through the trees and the leaves swayed emanating a soft brush like sound that calmed his nerves.

No protesting whinnies to be heard nor the scrape of battered hooves. Only a short clip-clop and the gentle groan of leather as someone, unseen, shifted slowly.

Sam was about to run when he saw a soft sparkle out in the corner of his eye. He turned as the sun glittered upon a white, wind swept tail. Tendrils of light sparkled on a wavering mane and the elegant step of a proud warhorse was seen from his hiding place in the bushes.

Upon the great horse, he saw something he had longed to see since the beginning of the journey when they had parted from Gildor and his company of elves who had been heading westward.

He looked upon the face full of concern and yet, it held so much grace and majesty within its features that the hobbit wanted to sigh. The elf's long flowing blonde tresses caught in the wind as he rode and his cape flowed wildly as the cold October wind flew around him.

"Estel?" his voice was strong and caring, yet light and musical. "Mellon? Tithen Pen?"

The words flowed with such grace that Sam sighed, though he did not realize that he had been so loud until the elf looked towards him, his eyes stopping upon the long line of Mulberry bushes.

"Estel?" his question was repeated and he, elegantly slid from the back of his horse. As he did this, the reigns jingled softly, giving a magical feel and almost making the young gardener wait a moment. He did, but then, realizing what a spell this elf was putting upon him, he stumbled back, rather noisily.

"Oh, dear!" he breathed clawing at the dirt, trying to crawl backwards upon the hard packed earth.

Sam could hear the hitched breaths and frightened squeaks as he moved back, wanting to be brave, but at the same time not knowing what to do.

"Oh, Strider, please wake up!" he hissed as he came closer. But, it was no good. You could see that the man was shaking and sweating all over, clutching his side and groaning. He seemed to be conscious, yet when they spoke his name, he did not respond.

Part of Sam wanted to run up to the elf and shout: "Help us, please!" But the other part of his was wary from there trip to Bree. He remembered what had happened there when they had gotten too chummy with the locals, and it had been all but good.

As hard as he wanted to believe that this elf was there to help them- he knew that it was highly possible that this beautiful, amazing creature of Eru was just a ploy- someone who was acting kind, but really wanted something valuable of their's…like the Ring.

Turning over, Sam shook Strider with all he had left in him. Sweat was pouring down his face and drenching his hair. He panted- trying to breathe normally but finding it difficult. "Strider? Come on! Wake up!"

Behind him, the leaves rustled and he heard Merry and Pippin squeak with horror.

He turned about, hand jumping directly to the hilt of his sword. He leapt up, in front of the other, shaking like a dog frightened of its master's booted foot. But, he held his stance, eyes gleaming with all the fury he could muster.

"Stay back you!" he heard his voice shudder and all the sudden his throat felt weak. He gulped, but unsheathed the blade and pointed it at the elf. "Stay back!"

The elf, fairly puzzled, bent down a bit so he could come through the bushes. His horse followed wordlessly and he stood now with his entire slender frame upright.

Merry and Pippin, who had not before seen the elf, smiled excitedly and pushed away from each other.

"Hoi, where did you come from?"

The tall firstborn began to answer, but his words were cut short as Sam shouted back at Merry and Pippin his words low. "How do we know we can trust you?"

At this, the blonde elf glanced behind the hobbit, his face lighting up, then darkening with worry. His gaze turned back to the hobbits and he licked dry lips. " I see you are in need, maybe I can help." he stopped a moment but then motioned to the saddlebag that hung from the saddle upon his gleaming gray steed. "I have some-"

He was cut off as Sam advanced a bit, still guarded, but a little less menacing, if he was ever at all menacing. "What is your name?"

The elf stopped a moment, stooping down. "My name, young hobbit, is Glorfindel of Rivendell. I am an advisor to the great Lord Elrond." He offered the information eagerly, obviously wanting nothing more than to help the four hobbits...'or is that five?' He questioned, seeing someone else laying behing the three that stood before him. "I have been sent to help you, I believe."

Feeling relief as he noted for the first time the elf's genuine attitude, Sam put his blade away and nodded wearily. "My master is sick, and our friend is hurt-maybe you know him..." They parted and the elf's eyes widened as he stepped forward quickly, his breath seeming to catch within his throat.

The elf, though worried, laughed at Sam's statement. "Know him?" He breathed, reaching for Strider's forehead. "He is my master's foster son! He is my friend."

As his finger's brushed the man's skin, he hissed and pulled away. "Oi!" he pursed his lips. "That is some fever, what has happened to him?" He turned and looked at Frodo for the first time, his eyes growing even wider, if that was possible.

He was speechless a moment, reaching for the young hobbit and shivering when he felt the icy chill that lay over the halfling's body. "What..."

Merry, finding his tongue gulped and spoke. "We were attacked upon Weathertop, Strider did all he could to protect us, but only Frodo knew his intentions..." he stopped and breathed deep, feeling the intense, blue-grey eyes upon him. "I stabbed Strider in the side to protect my cousin." He lowered his head and slowly raised his eyes to meet the elf's once more. "I am sorry- I was just scared and I saw no possible way to trust him since he was not sharing everything with us."

Glorfindel smiled, almost knowingly. "Awww, was he being secretive again?" he chuckled. "Strider, or Estel, has a love to disguise his problems- we have noticed that through the many years we have known him."

Pippin, seeing the moment as bright and cheerful smiled big. "How many years have you known him?"

The elf smiled. "Oh, about eighty-four years, maybe more, maybe less. Though," he quirked a blonde brow. "I don't think it could have been much more since he was only one when I met him."

"Eighty-four years?" Sam seemed a bit confused and he looked at the man once more, his eyes becoming large as saucers. "He looks to be in his late thirties at the most!"

Breathing tiredly, Glorfindel looked up and smiled gently at all three hobbits. "There will be time for questions later, right now, your friend is in terrible danger. It is but a miracle he has lasted so long with such a deep wound. We must get Frodo to Rivendell as soon as possible."

Pippin smiled excitedly. "Can you get him there? We were on our way, but Strider collapsed and you came, and well..." he stopped, realizing there wasn't more he needed to say.

"I can, but we will have to continue at a quick pace. Once Frodo awakens he may ride to Imladris alone."

"Alone?"

Glorfindel ignored the fright in the gardener's voice and continued to grasp the limp hobbit in his arms and place him upon the strong back of his waiting horse. At first, Merry could hardly see Frodo admist the ultimate majesty of the white stallion, but eventually he caught sight of his cousin and smiled wearily.

Pippin looked back at Strider who still lay upon the ground, now totally unmoving upon the forest floor. He was plale and looked horrible with great marks under his eyes; his hair was soaked with sweat and he, though mostly at peace, had marks of agony upon his forehead.

Licking his lips, he looked to the elf. "What about Strider?"

Glorfindel smiled and knelt down, looking into the hobbit's eyes and chuckled and rubbed Pippin's bushy hair. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to bring him along won't we."

At this, the youngest hobbit smiled brightly and ran to grab Strider's backpack.

TBC