When I woke, I found it was still dark, and I was lying by the fire, Frodo's head near mine. I sat up and saw Merry and Pippin sitting nearby, but there was no sign of Strider. Merry must have heard me sit up, because he turned around. When he saw me awake, he came over to me quickly and said, "Finally, you're awake."

"Are you feeling all right?" Pippin asked, following Merry as was usual.

"Yes," I replied, running my hand through my hair. "I'm fine, I think." But when I tried to stand, my injured leg gave out under me and I fell back to the ground with a grunt of pain. "Guess I'm not so fine after all," I muttered.

"You just sit here until Strider returns," Merry ordered. I was more than willing to comply. Frodo awoke soon after me and he told the others his story about the Ringwraiths, and I was content to listen to it and to the other small chat they engaged in. I began to fidget, however, when fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sign of the Ranger. I was just dreading that the Riders had caught him when he appeared suddenly out of the shadows, startling us into silence. I was so relieved that I believe a few tears came to my eyes, and Strider must have known my thoughts, for he knelt beside me swiftly to explain.

"I apologize for my long absence," he said. "I have been trying to discover something of the Black Riders' movements; but I have found nothing. I cannot think why they have gone and do not attack again. But there is no feeling of their presence anywhere at hand." He paused and looked at Frodo. "Tell me how you were wounded."

"I put on the Ring," Frodo began. "Once it was on, I could see them. There were five figures there, five things that might once have been men. Three advanced towards me while two stayed behind. I drew my own sword out of fear, and two of the three stopped, but the third held both sword and dagger and had a crown upon his helm. He kept coming towards me, and I threw myself at him, crying out for Elbereth. I felt a pain like a dart of poisoned ice pierce my left shoulder, and then I fell to my knees. After that I remember nothing else."

Strider shook his head, looking worried, then ordered Merry and Pippin to heat as much water as they could in their kettles and to bathe Frodo's wound with it. "Keep the fire going well, and keep Frodo warm!"

"What about Dawn's leg?" Pippin asked as he piled more branches into the fire.

"Dawn's leg?" Strider asked, then turned to look at me. "What's wrong with your leg?"

"Last night when the Riders attacked," I said. "My leg pained me again. The pain was as bad as though I was still in the room at the inn. And today, the pain is less, but only a little, and my leg cannot support my weight. It doesn't make any sense, though, because the wound is healed over completely."

"Let me see it." Strider knelt by me again and pushed the leg of my trousers up to reveal the jagged scars on both sides of my calf. His face grew grim and I gasped as we noticed the dark discoloration around the scars and the dark lines that radiated out from them. "There must have been a shard," he said, pulling the trouser leg back down. "There's nothing I can do, however. Even if reopening it would not cause you more pain, I would have nothing to do to it other than what I have already done. You will have to manage until we reach Rivendell. There Master Elrond can heal both you and Frodo."

He paused and sighed. "I don't think the Riders expected to be resisted. They have drawn off for the time being. But not far, I fear. They will come again another night, if we cannot escape. They are only waiting, because they think that their purpose is almost accomplished, and that the Ring cannot fly much further. I fear, Dawn, that they believe your husband had a deadly wound that will subdue him to their will. We shall see! I will do all I can to help and heal him. Guard him well while I am away." Then Strider rose and disappeared again into the darkness.

I waited anxiously for Strider to return, taking turns with Merry and Pippin bathing Frodo's shoulder and keeping him warm by the fire. Then Strider returned with athelas, and after examining the hilt of the knife that had pierced Frodo, threw some of the leaves into a kettle of boiling water and used the water to bathe Frodo's shoulder. The fragrance of the steam was refreshing, my mind felt clear and calm, and when I unthinkingly went to stand to fetch more firewood, my leg didn't give out on me. Granted, it still pained me, but it was steady and supported my weight.

We talked out what we were going to do now, and decided that we couldn't remain at Weathertop. We had to make for Rivendell as quickly as possible, but there was no way that Frodo could walk. Once again one of the ponies was unburdened to allow Frodo to ride. We decided to cut over the Road again, risking being seen by the Riders, but it would make our journey shorter and safer, for we would be in a more direct line to Rivendell, and there would be more cover in the wooded lands across the Road. We made our way quickly through the dreary land, keeping watch in twos by night.

Four days passed and there was no sign of the Riders. On the fifth day we saw the River Hoarwell and the Last Bridge, and far beyond it the River Loudwater, the Bruinen of Rivendell. Hope grew in my chest at the thought of Bruinen and how near we were to the Elves and safety, but Strider was still wary and thought we would be fortunate if the Bridge was not held against us when we arrived. The next morning we reached the Road, and Strider bid me come with him to check the Road while the others stayed behind. We crept forward quietly, barely making any sound, for Rangers are trained to be stealthy, and Hobbits are naturally silent when they want to be.

Strider was crouching at the edge of the Road examining the ground for footprints when pain lanced through my leg again. I gasped and fell to one knee, trying to remain quiet though my body was telling me to scream. I clenched my teeth and balled my hands into fists, willing myself to silence. Strider returned from the Road and saw me. Kneeling beside me, he asked, "Is it your leg?"

"Yes," I said, holding out my hand to him. "Help me stand."

"I should look at it again."

I shook my head violently. "No, you already said there's nothing you can do. I can manage the pain until we get to Rivendell. Just help me stand up." He took my hand then and pulled me to my feet. "And don't mention my leg around the others," I added as we made our back to them. "They already have enough worries of their own, especially Frodo." He nodded.

When we rejoined the others, Strider told us there had been rain a few days before that had washed away all prints, and that as far as he could see there had been no horseman on the Road since. We hastened to the Bridge after that, and Strider left us concealed in a thicket while he checked the Bridge. When he returned, he had good news: it was clear of the enemy, and he had found an elf-stone in the middle of the Bridge. To him the stone meant that we could cross the Bridge unhindered, but he would not dare the Road without some clearer token. We crossed the Bridge safely and came to a narrow ravine that led northwards, which we began to follow. That night I excused myself from the camp under the pretense of relieving myself, and, hidden behind a bush, removed my trousers to look at my leg. I pursed my lips and slipped the trousers back on, knowing now why my leg pained me so much: the black lines criss-crossed my leg thoroughly now, and had reached my hip.

We were passing through dark valleys and sinister hills now. There were tall stone towers and ruins lining the crests of the hills, and I remembered we were getting close to the troll cave where Bilbo had had his first big adventure. Frodo asked Strider who had built those ruins, and as he answered that they had once been inhabited by Men who fell under the shadow of Angmar, I shuddered. The Witch King of Angmar was the one who had stabbed Frodo under Weathertop, and now were walking and sleeping in lands that once knew his evil. I used this to explain the source of the nightmares we would have at night, and to explain why Frodo was getting increasingly worse: shaking and shivering, even with his overcoat on and blankets wrapped around him, and his left arm getting colder and colder.

It began to rain on the seventh day from Weathertop, and by the night we were all soaked to the bone. The next day we had to turn too far north, out of our way, and Strider was worried our food would run out. That night we slept in a shallow cave on the side of a hill, and Frodo tossed and turned all night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped when morning came, but it was still cold and dreary. Strider left us in the cave as he climbed the hill to get his bearings. I helped Pippin put the bags back on the pony, and as I bent back and forth to take things from the ground and put them on the pony's back, I noticed a growing ache in my side. I stepped behind the pony to hide myself more thoroughly, and lifted up the hem of my shirt with apprehension. There were black lines spreading across my torso from the waistband of my trousers. I let my shirt drop back down quickly and returned to packing.

Strider returned and told us that we had to find the Ford of Bruinen or else we would become lost. We broke camp and went on, coming across a valley that led south-east. We followed it to a ridge of high land and were presented with a choice: go back or go over. We decided to risk the climb, but it was very difficult. Frodo had to get off and walk along with us. I let him lean on my shoulder, supporting his weight and helping him climb since his left arm was entirely useless. We reached the top at nightfall, and Frodo threw himself to the ground. I knelt beside him and took his hand; it was ice-cold and limp, and he was shivering violently. "We cannot go any further," Merry said to Strider. "I am afraid this has been too much for Frodo."

"I agree," Strider replied. "We can go no further tonight." He lit a fire under a pine tree in a shallow pit, and we huddled around it for warmth. Frodo laid there and muttered, and I wrapped him in both our blankets, putting his head in my lap and stroking his hair. The next morning Strider surveyed the land and said that we were now headed in the right direction and that he had seen the Loudwater again, although we would have to make for the Road now, for it was the best way to find the Ford. Going down the other side of the ridge was easier than going up, and Frodo was soon able to get back on the horse. Pippin found a path that we followed to a troll-cave, which Strider, Merry, and I opened. Strider believed it was abandoned and had been for a while, so we went on, Merry and Pippin running ahead. Soon they came back with a story of trolls in a clearing not far ahead. Strider picked up a stick and said, "We will come and look at them." Frodo said nothing, but I was struggling to keep a smile off my face.

We reached the glade and saw the huge trolls there, whereupon Strider went up to one and said, "Get up, old stone!" and hit it, breaking the stick on its back. I laughed then, and Frodo laughed too, and said, "Well, these must be the very three that were caught by Gandalf, quarreling over the right way to cook thirteen dwarves and one hobbit."

"I had no idea we were anywhere near the place!" said Pippin. We decided to take a rest in the glade, and ate lunch under the shade of the trolls' legs.

"Won't someone give us a bit of a song, while the sun is high?" asked Merry when we were finished. "We haven't had a song or a tale for days."

"Not since Weathertop," said Frodo. We all looked at him. "Don't worry about me! I feel much better, but I don't think I could sing. Perhaps Dawn could dig something out of her memory."

"Come on Dawn!" urged Merry. "There's more stored in your head than you let on about."

I laughed, waving away his statement. "I don't know about that," I said, though inside I was worried. Was I revealing more than I realized I was? "But how does this sound? It's not really poetry, not like the kind the Elves write, but these stone trolls brought it to mind." And I proceeded to recite the poem about the troll and Tom that Sam recited in the book.

"Well," laughed Merry. "It is as well you used a stick, and not your hand, Strider!"

"Where did you come by that, Dawn?" asked Pippin. "I've never heard those words before."

I mumbled something about a book and memorization, but Frodo cut in. "It's out of her own head, of course. Dawn has always liked poetry, but I never knew she wrote her own. I am learning more about her on this journey than I learned in all the years I've been married to her. First a conspirator, now a poet. She'll end up becoming a warrior – or a wizard!"

I laughed. "I don't think so," I said, smiling. "I like what I am and I don't want to be anything else." In my head I was laughing too, but not a merry laugh. Frodo would learn just how much he didn't know me when I finally got a chance to talk to him at Rivendell.

We followed the path to the Road and walked quickly along it towards the Ford. Suddenly, there came the sound of hooves on the Road behind us, and we left the Road to hide in a patch of hazels. The sound of the hooves grew louder, but then a different sound came on the breeze, faint but clear. It sounded like the jingling of bells on a harness. Strider was stooped to the ground with a hand to his ear, listening to something with a look of joy on his face. The sun set fully, and the sound of the bells and hooves grew nearer and clearer. Then into view came a white horse, its headstall flickering and flashing as though it was studded with living stars. The rider had golden hair streaming behind him, and there was a white light shining through him as through a thin veil.

I smiled with relief, and Strider dashed down to the Road, although the rider had already stopped and was looking our way. It was Glorfindel, an Elf-lord of Rivendell, though much older than he seemed. I had often wondered if this Glorfindel was the same one that had been in the great war against Morgoth in the First Age of Middle Earth, or if he had been named for the other Elf. Strider beckoned to us then, and we hurried down the slope to him. Strider introduced us to Glorfindel.

"Hail, and well met at last!" Glorfindel said to Frodo. "I was sent from Rivendell to look for you. We feared that you were in danger upon the road."

"Then Gandalf has reached Rivendell?" asked Frodo hopefully.

"No. He had not when I departed; but that was nine days ago. Elrond received news from some of my kindred traveling in your lands, saying the Nine were abroad and you were astray bearing a great burden with no guidance. There are few in Rivendell that can ride openly against the Nine; but such as there were, Elrond sent out north, west, and south." He told us then that he had taken the Road and it was he that left the elf-stone at the Last Bridge. He also chased off five Riders, three from the Bridge and two others later. Since then he had been tracking us and followed us once we came down from the hills. He said that we had to risk the peril of the Road now, but that he did not know where the other four Riders were. He feared we would find the Ford held against us when we arrived.

Frodo swayed then, and clutched my arm. I put my shoulder under his arm and held him up, saying, "My husband is wounded, Glorfindel. I know we have to go on, but he needs rest. Can you do anything for him?" The tall Elf took Frodo gently from my arms and looked in his face gravely. Strider quickly told him what had happened under Weathertop and showed him the hilt of the blade, which he had kept. Glorfindel examined it and gave it back, and then felt Frodo's shoulder with his fingers, his face becoming more grave at what he found. I watched Frodo, and saw in his face that the pain was lessened.

"You shall ride my horse," Glorfindel said. "His pace is light and smooth, and if danger presses too near, he will bear you away with a speed that even the black steeds of the enemy cannot rival."

"No, he will not!" protested Frodo. "I shall not ride him, if I am to be carried off to Rivendell or anywhere else, leaving my friends behind in danger." Here he looked at me.

Glorfindel smiled as I shook my head. "I doubt very much," he replied. "If your friends would be in danger if you were not with them. The pursuit would follow you and leave us in peace, I think. It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that brings us all in peril." Frodo could not argue with that, and so he was persuaded to mount the Elf's horse, Asfaloth. That enabled us to put more of our burdens on the ponies again, so that we had to carry nothing. We set off again into the night and only rested when dawn came. After about five hours' rest, Glorfindel woke us and gave us faelnirv to drink. It was clear and tasteless, and gave us strength and vigor; even the stale bread and dried fruit seemed to fill us after drinking that. We continued on with only two brief rests, and even still Glorfindel seemed anxious to keep moving. But when night came it was obvious that we could no longer, and so we slept under the trees.

The next morning was the same, with more endless walking and little rest, and the only comfort was the fact that with each mile we were getting closer to safety and peace. But with each mile also came worry and fear, for I knew the Riders were slowly closing in behind us, Frodo was fading quickly, and if my pain was doubled with each mile, so undoubtedly was his. In late afternoon we passed under the shadow of tall pine trees and into a cutting with walls of red stone. Echoes of our footsteps rang around the walls, and there also seemed to be echoes of footsteps following along behind us. Suddenly our way ran out from the tunnel into the light again, and we saw the Ford of Rivendell and the far mountains behind it.

There was still an echo of following feet in the cutting behind them; a rushing noise as if a wind were rising and pouring through the branches of the pines. Glorfindel stood and listened for a moment, then sprang forward and shouted, "Fly! Fly! The enemy is upon us!" Asfaloth began to canter, Merry, Pippin, and I followed behind, and Strider and Glorfindel came last as a rearguard. Five Black Riders appeared from the tunnel and reined their horses in, halting. "Ride forward! Ride!" Glorfindel called again to Frodo, but Frodo didn't immediately obey. He checked the horse to a walk and turned in the saddle, looking back at the Riders. Fear and anger crossed his face, and then he drew his sword as if to confront the Riders. "Ride on! Ride on!" Glorfindel called again.

I took the words from Glorfindel before he could shout them himself: "Noro lim, noro lim Asfaloth!" The white horse leapt forward and began galloping away toward the water. The black horses followed as the Black Riders gave their shrill cry and were answered by the other four Riders, who came bursting through the trees to the left. We all threw ourselves to the side of the Road to avoid being run down, and we soon lost sight of Frodo and the white horse behind the black horses. I turned to see Glorfindel and Strider get up and begin running after them, and I and the other hobbits followed. Glorfindel led the way to a small hollow near the river and started a fire there, then made torches and gave each of us one. We heard Frodo crying out, his voice shrill and thin, and the Riders answered, their voices dark and menacing.

Then the Bruinen became a rushing flood of water, and the three black horses and their riders were swept away. Glorfindel emerged from the hollow with a shout, waving his torch, and we followed him, hoping to frighten the other horses into the river. It worked, and soon there was no more threat from the enemy. We doused the torches by throwing them into the river, then waited for the flood to abate before crossing quickly to get to Frodo. The pain in my side had increased greatly and when I reached him, my legs gave out under me and I fell to my knees beside him. He was lying facedown, and I rolled him over. His sword was beneath him, broken, and when I took his hand it was cold as ice, as was his face. Tears began to blur my vision, and then a hand rested heavily on my shoulder; it was Strider. I heard Merry's voice. "Is he-?"

I shook my head violently. "No," I said, my voice breaking. I tried again, louder. "No, he's not dead." I looked up at Strider, who had a sad look on his face, then at Glorfindel. "He's not dead! Merely unconscious." I looked down at Frodo again, and then tried to lift him. "Help me carry him to Rivendell," I said. Then I tried to stand, but found my legs would not obey, and I instead fell over onto my side. I lifted myself on my hands with a gasp, and Strider bent over me, Glorfindel at his side.

"Show us," he said simply. I bowed my head and pulled the hem of my shirt up a little, keeping my modesty but revealing the lines that now covered most of my stomach and sides. Both Strider and Glorfindel looked grave, and the Elf picked me up and set me on his horse. Then Strider lifted Frodo up and cradled him in his arms, and said, "We will go quickly to Rivendell. If anyone can heal Frodo and Dawn, it will be Lord Elrond." Then he led the way, taking the long, easy strides that gave him his nickname. Merry and Pippin walked on either side of him, and Glorfindel walked by his horse's head. We walked for many minutes in silence before Glorfindel broke it.

"How did you come to learn Elvish?" he asked me, quietly, so that only I heard.

"Bilbo," I replied. "I spent many nights at Bag End with him and Frodo, learning to read and speak it. I am not very good at it, though."

"You speak it well enough and with enough authority that my own horse listened to you when you told him to run." I shrugged. "Also, you knew my horse's name, though I had not said it before. And though the dark lines that mar your skin have dimmed it, I can still see a light that shines from within you." I kept my silence, waiting for his question. "You have knowledge of things that you should not know, and you shine like an Eldar. What are you?"

"Many have asked that question, Glorfindel," I replied, looking him in the eyes. "And they will receive their answer soon, when we reach Rivendell." I thought for a moment, wondering whether I should go ahead and tell him, since the Riders were gone and we were across the River now, or wait a while longer. I came to a decision and said, "You will receive the answer soon as well. But not now. You will have to wait a bit longer. But I promise you, you will have the answer." He nodded.

A party of Elves appeared on the path we were following, and soon they joined us. They had been sent out to find us and bring us to Rivendell. One of them took Frodo from Strider, who looked as tired as I felt, and the others surrounded us and supported Merry and Pippin as they walked. Another hour or so passed, and then we crested a hill and the Last Homely House appeared. I sighed with relief at the sight of it, and Glorfindel looked at me with a smile. "Dawn Baggins," he said. "Welcome to Rivendell."