Hello, hello to all you lovely folk.
Sorry for the slightly longer than usual wait! What with the Easter break (Happy Easter to those who celebrate it!), family coming over, PLUS suddenly finding out I have to move and packing up my entire house (I'm currently homeless, but will be staying with my sister until I find somewhere), it was hard finding time to write anything down.
But I did it! Here is chapter four, perhaps a little rusty from my lack of writing and less than focused mind, but ah well! Just wanted to get something out for you pretties before I move out this weekend.
Oh, and just in case you're wondering, this IS mainly based on the Movieverse. However, (Eg: How they acquire Bill here) some parts may be loosely based on the book if I find the film didn't quite explain it.
I really hope you're all well, happy and healthy! A humongous THANK YOU SO MUCH to all who took the time to review, favourite and follow this story. You guys are truly beautiful people!
Well, do enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!
- Torrance Rose -
Nothing felt real anymore.
Elle felt like she was caught up in some fantastic dream, something she'd fervently wished for since she was in primary school. And now it had actually been granted.
Except there were strings attached to this dream, of course. There always was. See, in this dream she was the spawn of satan. Well, not technically. But she might as well have been.
Did she feel evil? She couldn't actually say.
What she felt was... Whole.
And in her heart, she was determined to do the right thing. To be good. And so what if she had been bred purely to do wrong, right? You don't choose your family. She had the potential to do right, and so she would.
Especially in this world, when she knew how unforgiving Middle-Earth could be. Orcs, uruk-hai, goblins, and trolls traversed through these lands every day... And that's only naming a few. There were unspeakable evils in this world, and there was no way in hell she was about to become another obstacle against the Fellowship.
And yeah, so she couldn't actually remember who was a part of the Fellowship anymore... Or where they went, or if they even succeeded for that matter. But she knew the gist of it. She knew the quest, their goal. The rest was just details.
And Elle would be an asset.
She would not become yet another hindrance in this world, fighting to swallow up every last morsel of light until Arda was drowning in darkness and hate. It was this hard-boiled determination that had her up and rearing to go as soon as the sun rose that next morning.
Aragorn woke her from where she'd fallen asleep in her chair, and judging by the fact that she'd only had a pitiful four hours of anxious, uncomfortable rest she was handling it all pretty well.
That is to say, she wasn't biting anyone's head off or storming about the room in a tantrum fit for a Queen. She wasn't exactly a morning person under normal circumstances, let alone anything else.
So Elle was feeling pretty damn proud of herself as she braided her hair back, waiting for the hobbits to wake up. They were deep sleepers, especially Sam. Aragorn was having a hard time waking them, and while Elle might've normally helped, she was having way too much fun watching him try.
When all four boys were finally alert (Frodo had been the only one to wake up almost straight away), Elle had a moment to check up on her scant belongings. The hobbits were busy eating the dreary porridge the inn had provided for them all and Aragorn had left to acquire a horse, so she took the time to see what Radagast had left her with.
Of course, her messenger bag was rolled up at the top of the pack with her jeans and t-shirt but they didn't take up much space. Her iPhone, lighter, hairbrush, keys, some bits and pieces of makeup and other little knick-knacks a woman finds essential inside the bag.
The rest consisted of a rolled up sleeping-mat tied on top that reminded Elle very much of her yoga mat back home, a coarse woollen blanket, some meagre food supplies and a full leather water skin. All in all, it wasn't a lot. But it would do, for now.
The hobbits were chattering together quietly as they left the motel, the sun barely peeking above the distant mountains. Obviously the terrifying encounter last night had, in the light of day, been utterly forgotten, as they seemed to be in fairly good spirits.
Though Elle did observe their evident hostility toward the Ranger. Clearly, they were just as suspicious of him as Aragorn was of her.
Speaking of which, Aragorn was gesturing toward a nickering pony nearby, and Elle couldn't hold back the grin that spread like wildfire across her face.
Bill the Pony. No way!
"Paid a ridiculous twelve silver pennies for him," Aragorn explained to Sam as they approached the docile mule, "He's old and sickly, but he will do well enough to aid us in our journey."
"I'll call him Bill." Sam answered, his expression stoic.
He couldn't hide his happiness for long, however. Elle could see how eager he was to pet him and tend to the beast as he adjusted the few packs splayed across his back.
"That'll be a love that transcends time." Elle giggled to Merry and Pippin, both boys not quite getting the joke.
The dawn breeze was ice-cold and as refreshing as if she'd just jumped head first into a pool. Elle's breath came out in puffs of mist, her arms pulling her cloak tight around her form. Thankfully the streets weren't very active, with only the more committed merchants up to construct their stalls for the day and advertise their wares. It made for easy passage as they walked briskly up Bree's main road, heading out toward the forest.
Elle fell into pace beside Aragorn, the hobbits a couple steps behind on either side of Bill.
"Couldn't get a horse then?" She asked, concerned that this journey would solely be on foot.
"Nay, my Lady. Someone left the doors to the stables open during the night, and they all seemed to have fled. Whether it be by fear or coaxing, I do not know. The old pony was all I could find." He answered curtly, staring resolutely ahead.
Elle nodded in understanding, feeling a little uncomfortable, before falling behind to walk with the hobbits. It was easier, anyway, to keep up with them. Just one of the Ranger's strides made up two of hers.
When they, too, immediately fell silent as soon as she joined them, their stance distrustful and unsure of her presence, Elle let loose a sigh that sent her overgrown bangs swinging.
This was the weirdest road trip she'd ever been on. Nobody trusted anybody, and obviously that hadn't improved after their little sleepover last night. So far, the Fellowship wasn't all it had cracked up to be.
It was less than an hour before Aragorn was leading their little company under the dense, green canopy of the woods. Passing through thickets of shrubbery and over fallen logs and vegetation, and aiding each other along the way.
The hobbits rushed to keep up with Aragorn's brutal pace, his gaze fixed ahead and his gait confident in each step upon the woodland floor.
Elle, in comparison, tripped more than a few times. Usually she caught herself before hitting the ground upon some tree or something, though occasionally Merry would stoop to help her up and continue on their way.
She was grateful for the support, sharing small smiles as they went.
Just like her, the boys were quickly getting fed up with the silence of the Ranger, their grumbling and muttering rising with the sun.
It wasn't long before Frodo broke the tension and finally called out to Aragorn, "Where are you taking us?"
"Into the wild." Was Aragorn's cryptic response as he brushed a low-hanging fern from their path.
"Into the wild? That's it?" Elle scoffed, brows raised. Was that seriously all he could offer? Weren't they supposed to be going to Rivendell? Or maybe that didn't happen yet... Maybe Rivendell was later on...?
The Ranger did not even bother giving her a response, however.
They continued walking for a moment before Merry whispered to Frodo, "How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf's?"
"We have no choice but to trust him." Frodo replied, his expression focused ahead as they trundled on into the brush.
Elle's uneasiness rose as they walked in silence, her mind screaming at her to speak up. She wanted to turn around and shake the hobbits for being so easily swayed. They should be demanding answers from this stranger, not going along with everything he said!
She was just too afraid of what might happen if she did. They'd tell her to fuck off for sure, and wouldn't think twice about the crazy girl from Bree ever again.
Her internal debate was stilled however as Sam again asked Frodo where the Ranger was taking them all, and Aragorn answered quite simply:
"To Rivendell, Master Gamgee. To the House of Elrond."
Those words had never sounded so sweet, and she visibly relaxed once the pressure was gone. Maybe now she might actually be able to enjoy this trip. After all, she was in Middle-Earth. Even the dirt was exciting to this earthling here.
"Did you hear that?" Sam turned to the rest of them with a look of absolute awe, "Rivendell. We're going to see the elves!"
The day stretched on, and so did the terrain. A never ending forest of rolling hills and green, dewy fields laid out before them.
As they trekked the air grew colder, despite the sun above their heads. Packed snow flecked across the ground in sporadic clumps of ice, growing only thicker until the grass had been almost swallowed up by the sudden blankets of white.
They paused at what Elle judged to be just after the normal waking hour (around nine o'clock in the morning, in her opinion), as Aragorn's gaze swept across the frosted fields of snow, in search of his bearings.
She was watching the Ranger at work, seated on a protruding rock, with a curious tilt to her jaw. She felt like it was supposed to be strange, seeing him in action like this, but in reality Elle was finding it difficult to recall much of the Ranger's actions from the films. She knew he was destined to be King of Gondor and was in love with a she-elf, but if those courses ever even came to be, well... she had no idea.
Elle barely even registered the hobbits as they set about starting up a fire, and began pulling out pots and pans from Bill's pack. It was only when Aragorn turned and spoke that her attention was drawn back to the present.
"Gentlemen," Aragorn said as he realised what they were doing, "We do not stop till nightfall."
"But what about breakfast?" Pippin stated as though it were a blatantly obvious reason to stop, the hobbits' movements halting in their tracks under the confused scrutiny of their leader.
"You already had it." Aragorn answered simply, in a matter-of-fact tone.
"We've had one, yes." Pippin allowed, "But what about second breakfast?"
Aragorn looked to the hobbit as one might look toward a child, before turning and walking away without another word. Elle had the sudden urge to slap a hand to her forehead.
"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip." Merry consoled the hobbit, who had the look of a crestfallen puppy.
"What about elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper?! He knows about them, doesn't he?" Pippin was close to pleading as he bombarded Merry with questions, who only shook his head with a smile.
"I wouldn't count on it."
Suddenly an apple sprung from the air and Merry caught it just in time, handing the ripe, red fruit to Pippin with a pat to his back.
Elle couldn't stop her mirth from bubbling forth, grinning and chuckling to herself as she stood and followed after the Ranger with Merry.
But not before they both heard the thud of an apple hitting Pippin's head, Elle falling into peals of laughter as Pippin stared up at the sky in confusion.
"Pippin!" Merry admonished, calling for his perplexed friend to follow.
The environment changed drastically over the course of the next few days as they descended into deep valleys. From sparse snowy fields and peeking bright green shrubs, to wild, dense plains of yellowed grass, littered with boulders of varying, incredible sizes.
They barely spent a single moment of rest throughout the journey, from dawn till dusk. Elle had never walked so much in her life.
Aside from her daily yoga rituals she didn't do much else by way of exercise. Her booted feet were burning, the soles aching and calves stinging in pain. Her breath came in laboured pants for the better part of each passing day, much like the other young hobbits, and her pack became an increasingly strenuous burden to carry.
Aragorn was relentless in his pace despite their constant whining and wishing for rest, and Elle found herself grudgingly appreciative of his iron-clad resolve. The man had strength, she'd give him that much.
She didn't speak unless spoken to, not sure how long she could convince the company of her good intentions if they spotted something amiss with her language and conduct. And, knowing her, she definitely would fuck up.
Plus, being over-tired and all, she was far too drained to spark up anything more than a couple grunts and mumbles, her lack of sleep playing a part in her grumpy, disinterested mood.
Instead she kept her mind busy with thoughts of home, wondering what everyone must think of her disappearance.
By now, Harley would have realised she'd gone missing. Work probably would have only found out recently, seeing as how she'd had the weekend off for once. Elle pondered if she'd been reported missing these past four days. Perhaps there were search parties out in Sydney at this very minute, looking for her.
Good luck finding me out here, Elle scorned, amusing herself with the thought of Harley's fake little panic attacks. She was probably soaking up the attention, acting as though she'd lost her very best friend for a chance to get on TV.
They would soon quickly forget, though. She had no family, no friends, no significant other. Nothing to tie her there for long. Those musings brought her back to her supposed heritage, and Elle mentally cringed.
She had been raised in the foster system growing up, being seen as a "problem child". The housing wasn't too bad, it was more the fault of the parents that had left her bitter. Not that she'd ever been physically abused by them, but it had been no secret growing up that she was only there for the sake of a pay check.
Those types of people wouldn't have noticed if a child died under their very noses, let alone anything else. The times had been too many to count that Elle had run away, or spent weeks out of housing without them even noticing she'd left at all. She, and every other kid there, had been nothing more than an easy route to more money.
Her last house, from fourteen to when she'd become a legal adult, had been where she'd first met Angela Gray. They'd clicked because they both had had shit parents, shit lives, shit schools and just about everything else shit you could think of, especially seeing as how they were just getting into their moody, dispassionate stage.
Angie wasn't a foster kid, but she wasn't from a bang-up family either so she might as well have been.
They'd done everything together back then. They'd even gone to get pageboy bobs styled so that their identical, chocolate brown hair could look even more similar. People used to ask all the time if they were sisters, and they usually lied and said yes.
Angie, however, had been so much more of an optimist than her. She'd been a dreamer, and had shown Elle how to dream, too. Those memories were her very first when it came to things like laughter, hope, freedom, happiness. And, even though Angie had died, those feelings hadn't. She remembered, and she held on.
Alright, so maybe she kind of turned into a recluse afterwards. But whatever, nobody's perfect. Elle knew that better than anyone. But she still liked to look at the glass half full, and she still enjoyed life as much as she could for Angie's sake.
She just... had wanted to do it on her own for a while. But it had been getting to that point where she was just downright lonely, going through the motions each day, and had forgotten what it felt like to be alive.
Being here, in Middle-Earth, it had her pulsing with adrenalin and soaring to be free, to explore.
And, fine, so maybe she was in a dream. Maybe she would wake up tomorrow, or a hundred years from now, and find that she'd imagined it all. But while she was here, she was damn well going to make the most of it. Dream or not, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this good.
Even if she was sired from some evil werewolves, or whatever, this was a drastic improvement on her life. It was sad to admit, but it was true. One that felt right and made sense.
According to hospital records, she literally had no birth parents. There was no record whatsoever of anyone having given birth to her, and yet she'd been found in the newborn ward, with her name printed on a hospital wristband and a pink blanket tucked around her.
Of course, nobody had come to claim her.
And now she knew why. They hadn't existed in that realm, and she was never meant to have been there in the first place. She shouldn't have existed in that realm either, according to the old wizard.
And Radagast had been so right, hitting home when he'd mirrored the feelings she'd had since she was a child. Of feeling incomplete, and unnatural. Because she had been incomplete and unnatural.
Now she finally had a chance to realise who she was, to find her place in a world she supposedly belonged in.
No, that she did belong in. She felt that that was true, more than anything else she'd gone through since being here. And so she didn't know any of their customs, or way of speech and dress. So what? She could learn, and maybe even teach them a thing or two.
The thought made her smile. Man, if these people could see the way humans lived in 21st Century, Earth. They'd have an apoplexy.
The sun was finally beginning to dip toward the horizon, signalling an end to their travels as it would do no good to keep on during the freezing hours of the night.
The area was overgrown, wild and weathered with rocks twice the size of herself sticking out like big grey mushrooms against the yellow-green grass. Her eyes caught on the tallest hill for miles, it's ragged cliff edges a sharp cut path leading to the abandoned ruins above.
"This was the great watchtower of Amon Sûl." Aragorn murmured above the rising dry wind, his cloak flapping by his ankles as he scanned the area from his stand on a larger boulder, "We shall rest here tonight."
Elle couldn't have been happier. Her whole body was numb with exhaustion, and her stomach hollow from hunger. She'd been having to ration the muesli-like bars in her pack, unsure of when next they'd have access to food, and the effects were leaving her dead on her feet.
"Finally." She muttered in one exhaled breath, dragging her feet as they shuffled on toward the ruins. The only one who seemed unaffected by their journey was Aragorn, who skipped on ahead to scout.
She was, by far, dealing with it the worst. Her pampered lifestyle of trams, trains and buses hadn't prepared her for marathons like these. It was a miracle she'd even managed to last this long, and Elle had to wonder if maybe her wolf-self had a part to play in it.
Radagast had told her that that portion would be far more placid and easily handled during the day, and he had been right. Once again she mentally prepared herself for the challenge ahead once nightfall descended.
They tied Bill to a tree nearby, with enough room to lay down and walk a bit if need be. Elle chuckled as Sam slyly fed the pony an apple, unknowing that he was being watched.
"Come on, my Lady." Aragorn smiled as he took her hand and lifted her up onto the first edge of the cliff. The stairs had crumbled long ago, missing in large sporadic pieces and making the climb all the more difficult.
"This will aid well in deterring predators during the night." Aragorn explained, though she hadn't asked. Most likely he could sense her obvious reluctance, as it was written quite clearly across her face. Elle sucked in her pride and accepted the help as she clambered up into the abandoned fortress.
The hobbits needed more assistance than she in getting up to the higher passes. The gaps in the rock-hewn stairs barely reached the top of their heads, so she ended up dropping back more than once to help boost one of the little fella's up.
They set up camp in a sizeable, sheltered alcove cut into the side of the cliff, just below the top of the watchtower. They had a decent view of the terrain from here; of brown, weathered shrubs and boulder strewn hills, stretching out endlessly for miles. The sky was smeared with miserable, grey clouds but the stone roof above their heads would serve well against any chance of rain.
Elle collapsed onto her backside, completely burnt out as she stretched her sore, abused feet. Her breath was coming in laboured puffs from the climb, her side burning from exertion. A nice, soft bed would be a blessing right now, not to mention a long and thorough bath. She hadn't washed since the inn, bar a quick wipe-down with a damp cloth.
Neither could be helped, and right now she'd make do with the sandy, bare ground instead.
Elle raised her eyes sleepily, soaking in the stunning sunset sinking below the mountains. Colours of gold and dusty pink streaked the grey clouds, bursting with a serene, soft kind of beauty.
Aragorn stood at the edge of the drop, his matted black hair swaying in the breeze as he searched the grounds for any sign of their hellish pursuers.
Elle let her eyes wander absently, in awe as her sight focused in on every small, insignificant detail. From up here she could see exactly where they had been upon first sighting Amon Sûl, as clear as if it was only a scant few feet from her face.
It was probably a kilometre and a half away from their camp now, and while she'd probably have been able to see that far before, well, now she could really see it. As in, no blurry far-off objects for her. If a person had been standing there, she'd easily be able to discern every feature of their face, the stitching of their clothes, and lip-read the words from their mouth.
Further then that, however, her sight slowly became less powerful. But that was fine with her, she'd never been able to see like this before and had never even dreamed it could be possible.
Her sense of smell and hearing in comparison was ridiculous. Elle sniffed at the air, scenting the birds that roosted above their heads, and the herd of... what smelt like horses, that had passed through here a few days ago. And, while the sky looked like it could rain at any moment, Elle could smell that it would not do so for days. She was baffled by this knowledge, and couldn't even explain to herself how by just one simple sniff she knew so much.
The hobbits were all complaining loudly over their empty bellies and tired feet, Pippin having gone so far as to begin massaging his oversized, hairy soles. Elle was thankful she had boots to help cushion each footfall, and had no idea how the boys could've handled the walk so well. It had seemed so much easier in the film, and now she could finally appreciate just how well-worn hobbits' feet were to the elements.
Aragorn turned from his scouting, approaching the fatigued group with purpose. He swung off his pack and pulled from it a rolled up blanket, lowering it to the dusty ground.
"These are for you gentlemen," He said as he flipped open the brown material and began handing out the four old swords within, "Keep them close."
"What about me?" Elle said as she scrambled forward, watching as the hobbits' took the weapons gingerly and with wonder.
"I am sorry, my Lady," The Ranger replied sincerely, "I was unprepared for a woman on this journey."
Elle grumbled something unintelligible, envious of Frodo's stricken face as he lifted the sword from it's scabbard. The blade was dull and not anything particularly special, but it was a weapon all the same. Elle had to tell herself that despite her want to help, she didn't actually have any fucking clue what to do with the thing.
The hobbits' seemed to agree with her sentiments, as they stared at each other in turn with no idea of what they'd gotten themselves into. The poor boys had probably never lifted a weapon in their lives, let alone been given one and expected to fight. This was no fairy tale anymore, and suddenly everything was becoming all too real and deadly.
"I'm going to have a look around." Aragorn spoke with unmistakeable authority as he turned back to the spectacular view, "Stay here."
Elle swallowed the urge to retort, unused to being bossed and ordered around. At the library she'd been someone treated with respect, someone in a position of power. She supposed she'd have to get used to being unimportant now, seeing as how she'd proved herself to be nothing short of useless so far.
"As if we'd go wandering around here." Elle huffed beneath her breath, falling back against her pack like a pillow. Aragorn either didn't hear her or didn't bother acknowledging the remark, as he swept out of sight without a second glance.
"Are you well, Lady Elle?" Frodo enquired as he took a seat beside her, his bright blue eyes stark against the darkening sky.
Elle shrugged inelegantly from where she lay, "No, I'm shit. This whole day has been shit. But I'm here, and that counts for something."
Frodo nodded along, though his naturally pink cheeks reddened slightly at her cuss, "I feel the same. At least we're doing something now."
Elle smiled and let her eyes droop shut. She was so tired, and so drained.
"Frodo?" Elle whispered as she settled in for a light nap, giving in to the ebb and flow of exhaustion rushing over her.
"Yes?" The hobbit replied sleepily as he laid beside her in a similar fashion.
"My name is just Elle... Not Lady Elle..." She sniffled as she curled her cloak tight around her, "Just Elle, okay?"
"Okay." The hobbit agreed with a yawn, before they both drifted in and out of sleep.
"What are you doing?! Put it out, you fools!
"Put it out!"
Elle snapped awake to the echoing sounds of a struggle, and within a split second she was on her feet and hissing, crouched protectively for any sudden attack.
The speed of her movements threatened to give her a head rush, as she tried to focus on what was happening. Where was she?!
Her eyes immediately snagged on the dying flicker of light to her left, and she focused in on Frodo as he danced about, stamping out the thoughtless fire the boys had lit.
"Oh, that's nice! Ash on my tomatoes!" Came Pippin's infuriated response as he fought to save his dinner from Frodo's large foot.
Elle didn't have time to question her defensive response to being woken, because the next thing she knew an unearthly shriek filled the cold, misty air and sent each of the boys silent. The cry pulled goosebumps to the surface of her skin, and her heart plunged instantly into ice.
"You idiots!" Elle snarled, the growl in her throat still evident as she scanned the grounds from their campsite. Her breath caught and froze in her chest as she easily picked out the five Black Riders' closing in on the base of the watchtower.
They were trapped.
"Up, get up to the top!" Elle hissed, shoving the boys toward the stairs as they snatched up their swords in fear.
"Where is Strider?" Frodo's voice was stung by terror, his eyes madly swinging from left to right as they scurried up the last remaining stairs.
"He hasn't returned yet." Sam replied breathlessly.
Elle ushered them into the middle of the platform, the circular dais open to the elements. The space was large, and ringed by crumbling arches and columns that had long ago succumbed to the wild.
"Get behind me." Elle panted, ears pricking at the slightest sound. It was difficult to hear over the four hobbits' fluttering hearts and laboured, terrified breaths, but if she tried she could just make out the thud of steel scraping against stone as the Ringwraiths closed in.
A low, warning growl vibrated from within her chest, and she sensed the hobbits' fearful shiver as a tremor swept violently through her body.
Fuck, not now!
Elle clenched her jaw tight, muscles spasming as her breath quickened radically, to the point that her chest was pumping out air every half second, her nostrils flaring from the strain.
"Lady Elle, what's wrong?!" Merry cried out from behind her, grasping her arm just as she shook her hair back and bared her teeth, fangs descending rapidly from her jaw.
"J-just stay back!" She barked at the poor, oblivious hobbits, digging her nails into her palms to enforce calm. This was no time to lose control, not now when they were mere minutes away from death.
And then, as if the timing couldn't get any worse, they appeared.
All five of them, with gaping, endless black holes where their faces should have been. They swept slowly out of the gloom, drawing their swords with demented hands sheathed in metal. The air grew thick, heavy, until they were drowning in it.
Elle recoiled, her stomach threatening to reject it's meagre contents as the stench of rotting, desolate flesh hit her. All doubt that she was in fact here in Middle-Earth fled as she was confronted by these inhuman creatures, stinking of death and hatred and fear. If there was anything to prove that this place did indeed exist, it was these unspeakable corpses.
The wraiths descended, making not a sound as they glided over cracked and dusty stone toward them. Her eyes zeroed in on their leader, and Elle knew that there was no disputing what she was seeing and feeling anymore. This was real, and they were about to be killed.
Her struggle over her wolf ceased, and for once Elle felt completely in sync with the beast. She was allowed to kill these things. Hell, she wanted to. They were not something innocent to be protected from her, these things should not have been alive in the first place.
The Ringwraiths unsheathed their swords in unison; the vile, black blades jagged and glinting in the dappled moonlight. Cautious, they began to close the distance. And Elle was ready for it, unable to resist the pull of the wolf as she clawed for control.
Yes, yes! Death, kill, bite, rip...
It was only the sudden trembling of the hobbits as they stumbled back that brought her spinning to her senses. She didn't yet know, or even understand, the prowess of the wolf, and she could not unleash such an unstable creature so near. For all she knew, she could just as easily kill these boys as turn against those ghastly figures.
With a mental shout of pain she reined in her impulses, locking them away inside her mind. It would cost her dearly in the long run, the pain she could already feel building for sealing away such a side of herself, but for now she had to stay in control.
In any case, it would be stupid to just run headlong into the unknown. She didn't even know if the wolf would stand a chance against such things, her keen eyes sharp on their advance as the wind tugged delicately on reeking, black cloaks.
"Stay back!" Elle growled, baring her fangs protectively as they crept closer.
They ignored her, their movements faultless as they each pointed their blades forward, descending like a hawk upon it's prey.
They stank of the ugliness and hatred of their souls, twisted into something unnatural and wrong.
"I said, STAY BACK." Elle screamed, teeth snapping at their blades instinctively as she guided the group back across the dais. She must have seemed about as scary as a turnip, because they did not even bother glancing in her direction.
"E-Elle!" One of the boys whispered, terrified, but did not get the chance to continue as she was suddenly shoved roughly aside by one of the Ringwraiths.
She fell against the concrete hard, skidding and grazing her palms against loose stones, before she rolled and shot back to her feet.
"Back, you devils!" Sam cried out with a swing of his sword, to be tossed to the floor as well.
The Ringwraiths had merely battered away the boys' clumsy attempts to attack, sending their swords flying and the hobbits tumbling into a pile. One by one they had tried to protect Frodo, but now he was all that was left to stand between them, and the Ring.
Elle ran to the boys, but they appeared unharmed as they each climbed to their feet, stark white and shaking in terror. Pippin looked like he was about to throw up himself, his pale face drenched in a ghostly sheen.
The wraiths turned to them as one, approaching once more as Elle pushed the hobbits behind her again and snarled in warning, the blood rushing through her ears at an alarming pace. She was holding on by a thread, demanding control as the wolf continually slammed against her mind, fighting to break free.
"I will not let you win." Elle hissed between her teeth, her words meant for not only the Black Riders, but for herself as well. Shaking and disorientated she futilely prayed for help, blinking back tears as she mustered up a weak snarl.
And then everything stopped, acting as if in slow motion, as the leader of these damned creatures turned slowly toward the black call of it's Master.
Frodo had revealed the One Ring.
That subtle glint of gold, settled in the small hands of the little hobbit, was unmistakeable from where he lay fallen.
"Frodo, no!" Elle screamed out, holding the boys back as they fought to rush to the aid of their friend.
The Witch-King, for she knew now just what he was, stepped soundlessly toward his kill. His sword pointed, arm outstretched, and before Elle knew what was happening Frodo had slipped the Ring onto his finger and disappeared from sight.
With his disappearance, Elle's eyes snapped back to the advancing four wraiths.
Tears stung her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she snapped and snarled at the approaching Nazgûl, damning the stupid Ranger all the while for abandoning them in their time of need.
If she sacrificed herself, she may very well be able to give the hobbits the head start they needed to escape. Perhaps not all of them would have to die this night. Elle took a deep breath, preparing herself to run headlong into the Ringwraiths and distract them for as long as she could.
"When I scream, you boys run." Elle whispered frantically to the hobbits huddled behind her, "I'll distract them and give you time to get Frodo and escape."
"No, Lady Elle!" Merry cried out, once more grasping her arm, "You can't do that!"
"It's our only chance!" Elle shot back, pulling in lungfuls of air as she willed her heart to slow from it's frenzied pace, "Please, they can't get to the Ring."
With those words, a sudden image of Frodo being stabbed straight through the shoulder by the hand of the Witch-King swam before her eyes.
Gods, no. She knew what came next!
Elle spun just in time to see the Ranger appear over the edge, her heart leaping into her throat as she froze in fear for him. It was short lived however, as she watched Aragorn charge straight into the midst of battle and send the Ringwraiths scattering back defensively.
Frodo appeared seconds later, an agonising scream ripping hoarsely from his throat as he clutched his shoulder, scrambling back against a fallen pillar and away from the fight.
She wanted to go to him, but they were cornered on opposite sides with Aragorn fighting against the Ringwraiths in the middle.
Elle's eyes locked on Aragorn, hypnotised as he moved and swept fluidly between their sword swings, parrying them back with dance-like ease. In one hand he held a lit torch, the fire lighting up the gloom as he utilised this too, sweeping them back with the flames.
In her fascination, she momentarily relaxed her hold on the hobbits, and, seizing his chance, Sam let lose and made a run for it. He ignored her cries of protest as he dodged between the shrieking Nazgûl, sliding under ringing blades as he raced to the aid of his injured friend.
Elle had Merry and Pippin in each arm, and was trembling futilely as her breath came in sour gasps. She felt like she should be doing something. She should be helping Aragorn, not standing here, frozen and gaping like a useless ninny.
Her limbs wouldn't work, and her head refused to stop spinning. Elle fought the urge to be sick as Aragorn sent two of the Ringwraiths fleeing, screaming like Banshee's as their cloaks went up in flames around them. The other two followed suit, fearful of the bright fire as they disappeared over the cliff face.
Aragorn was panting hard, his hair dripping with sweat as he swung to face the remaining Black Rider. The Witch-King was all that was left, his movements stilled from where he was approaching a cowering Frodo and Sam.
The Ranger wasted no time in hurling the torch straight into the Nazgûl's faceless head, his aim hitting true as the creature's foul shrieks sent shivers racing across Elle's spine.
Her mouth hung open, wondering what the torch could be sticking in to as it flailed around helplessly, before the Witch-King turned and fled with the rest of it's kin into the night.
"Strider!" Sam yelled for help, holding on to Frodo as he writhed and cried out in pain.
Elle wiped the moisture from her eyes with the sleeve of her sullied dress, staggering toward the two hobbits.
"Help him, Strider." Sam begged.
Aragorn knelt by Frodo, picking up the fallen sword beside him. It was as ugly and evil as the one who it belonged to, and the Ranger held it with disgust.
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade."
Elle watched as the blackened blade crumbled to ash in his hands, and Aragorn dropped the cursed hilt with a clang in revulsion, "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."
Completely trusting in the face of death, Sam stepped back and allowed the Ranger to hoist Frodo into his arms, an anguished groan ringing from the hobbit's colourless lips. He twitched and trembled in his arms in silent torment, eyes rolling back into his skull.
Elle felt as if she'd like nothing more than to run away and hide. To pretend this night had never happened at all. Her fangs retracted slowly within her jaw, the wolf retreating docilely now that the immediate danger had passed.
All she had left now was the anxiety that clawed at her insides, and she managed to stumble a couple times as she followed after the group in a daze.
What was supposed to happen next?!
She couldn't remember at all. Did Frodo die? Did the Ringwraiths return? Would they even get through this night alive?!
It was all too much, and somehow she managed to shove back those turmoiled thoughts in to the pit of her skull and swallow down her many fears, until all she had left to feel was the blessed numbness of shock.
They would get through this night. Even if she had to force the change and tear apart each and every Black Rider herself, they would do it.
The climb down the watchtower was somehow easier. Perhaps it was the adrenalin that tripled their efforts and had them careening down like seasoned hikers, sparing no amount of time in taking the more dangerous drops cautiously.
They stopped only once to shoulder their belongings, and upon reaching the bottom of the cliff thanked the stars that Bill remained unharmed and still tethered nearby.
Their speed was unmatched as they jogged, weaving around boulders, toward the forest that crept closer with each kilometre their feet ate up. Elle could no longer feel the pain of their earlier trek, her boots springing from the cushy grass with each step she took. She felt terrified and alive, and strangely well rested despite how brief her nap had been.
Was this a side to her wolf, that left her in little need for recuperation? Or just the adrenalin, playing tricks on her mind once more? She had no idea, and frankly didn't really care as they raced breathlessly and in silence toward the dark edge of the woods.
Frodo groaned in strain with every jostling step; the entire company wincing each time, in fear for his life. Elle could smell the blood congealing at the entrance to his wound, and the sickly sweet scent of the poison coursing through his veins, dragging him down into the Shadow World.
The poisoned shard of the Morgul blade refused to let it's host bleed out. It had trapped the venom inside as it worked toward his heart, forcing Frodo to bear the brunt of his pain. It was horribly ingenious, and a sickening way to die. Elle wouldn't wish it upon her worst enemy.
After an hour of cross-country running the group finally broke through the tree line, their pace slowing as they circled past fallen branches, trees and bushes. Aragorn still held Frodo in his arms, and the little hobbit was shaking rapidly. He didn't look to be conscious anymore, his eyes wide and glazed over. Unseeing.
Elle had a stitch in her side, but she was barely aware of it as she pushed on. Nothing was compared to what Frodo was feeling right now, his groans a constant reminder of her failure to protect him.
They staggered on through the undergrowth, the tall, thin trees casting eerie shadows in the moonlight and bathing them in pale, blue light.
"Hurry!" Aragorn rasped, fearful for the hobbit in his arms who was now ice cold and fighting for breath.
"But we're six days from Rivendell!" Sam wheezed in desperation, "He'll never make it!"
"Hold on, Frodo." Aragorn whispered, squeezing him tighter for warmth.
Elle was hollow with fear, panting and scrambling after the Ranger as branches whipped and tore at her face and skirts. She barely noticed.
"Gandalf!" Frodo began to scream, thrashing in Aragorn's arms. Elle wanted to cry for the boy, furious with how helpless she felt.
Why couldn't there be hospitals here?! Or cars, for that matter! A bit of modern medicine would have at least slowed the effects enough for them to get to the elves in the first place.
But who was she kidding. This sort of thing would never happen where she was from, it was just wishful thinking and wasn't going to do any good. She had never felt so hopeless in her life.
A warm, soft hand suddenly engulfed hers, and she looked down into Merry's tear-streaked face beside her as they ran. He smiled reassuringly up at her, though it didn't quite reach his big, brown eyes.
Elle squeezed his hand back, and the group kept on.
Their pace slowed considerably over the course of the night, until finally some three hours later they collapsed in the shadow of some large rocks for a much needed break.
Frodo's face was contorted in a state of agony as he moaned and writhed, twitching on the floor where he was wrapped up in his cloak. His eyes were wide and an unnatural ice-blue, their colour fading fast. Sam hurried to tie Bill to a nearby tree, leaving a wooden bowl of water for the pony before rushing back to Frodo's side.
Elle began to help Pippin strike up a fire with the tinderbox, in an attempt to counteract the freezing temperature and warm Frodo, while Aragorn scanned for danger.
Once the flames were bright Merry brought over some sticks and began lighting up a few torches, passing them around. With the sudden glow of the fire, she could now make out the towering boulders around them, finding with some surprise that they were in actual fact stone statues of three incredibly aggressive looking trolls.
The memories hit her with startling force, of Bilbo Baggins and his clever game of wits with the trolls who'd deemed him and his dwarven party dinner. She would have laughed with joy at finding such a significant site, had she not been clutched between the frozen hands of fear.
Elle's fingers trembled as she handed a torch to Aragorn, her eyes pleading as she walked with him out of earshot from the boys.
"Will he survive?" She asked, hopeful.
Aragorn looked drained, exhausted. He did not answer, but rested a hand comfortingly on her arm. Her shoulders drooped in defeat.
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam called out to his friend, breaking the silence as he raised a hand to Frodo's forehead, "He's going cold!"
He turned imploringly toward the Ranger, his expression begging for an answer, a cure. Anything.
Aragorn crouched down swiftly, pulling the cloak tight around the trembling, unconscious hobbit.
"Is he going to die?" Pippin whispered, his voice shaking.
"He's passing into the Shadow World. He'll soon become a wraith like them." Aragorn answered gently, his gaze sweeping the dark forest for any sign of the Ringwraiths that followed.
Elle bent beside Frodo, pushing back the damp curls from his forehead. His skin was sickly, sallow and pale, with not a trace of the familiar rosiness of his cheeks. His body spasmed beneath her touch, her warm fingers leaving a trail of fire against his icy skin.
"He hasn't got much time left." She choked out, the shock of the past few hours leaving her numb with disbelief.
A sudden shriek on the breeze echoed from afar, grasping everyone's attention as they all stiffened in turn.
"They're close." Merry's tone was laced with horror as he slowly stood from his squat by the fire, glancing about anxiously.
"Sam, do you know the Athelas plant?" Aragorn asked briskly, gesturing for the hobbit to come.
"Athelas?" Sam said as he scurried over.
"Kingsfoil."
"Kingsfoil! Uh, it's a weed!" Sam jumped to, eager to assist.
"It may help to slow the poisoning. Hurry!" Aragorn ordered the stocky hobbit, who quickly ran off in search of the plant.
Elle turned back to Frodo, her eyes searching his face for any sign of life. Any sign that he was fighting against the effects of the poison.
"Pippin, I want you to hold his hands and keep them warm okay?" Elle stammered out, figuring it was about time to try some form of a modern approach here.
Pippin hurried over and took Frodo's hands between his, rubbing them to create friction and hopefully stimulate some warmth into the boy.
"Bring that torch over here." Elle asked Merry, who stepped up beside her and lowered the flame to provide some heat and light.
Elle took a deep breath, fumbling on the buttons of Frodo's tunic as she opened it up to survey the wound. She took note of every pathetic thump of his heart, each half-hearted pulse through his veins that only served to send the shard of the blade further toward it's destination.
Pulling back the damp material, Elle inhaled sharply. The wound had not bled one single drop, the congealed blood blackened and oozing around the jagged hole. The surrounding skin was tinged yellow from the venom, angry red and purple veins branching outward like a spider's web.
"Oh, my god..." She breathed, the smell of the poison so much more prominent now. It was like curdled milk; sweet, tangy and sickening.
Her stomach roiled in distaste, but Elle pushed through. Taking the tattered and torn ends of her skirt, she ripped up through the material until she had a few decent sized strips she could bind it with.
Frodo's head suddenly tilted to one size, staring off into the distance with a pained expression, though his pale eyes seemed to be soaking in an image unseen by everyone but him.
Elle turned to look, and found herself staring up at the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen in her life. She was dressed in flowing robes of blue-grey, her raven black hair pinned back from her face. Elle's mouth fell slack as the angel approached, dropping down beside her as she placed a slender hand to Frodo's head.
Aragorn appeared with her, crouching down as he focused solely on the hobbit and began to chew on the ends of a green, flowering plant.
"Frodo?" The angel murmured, her voice soft and lyrical as she leant over him in concern.
Without word, Aragorn began packing the chewed up pieces of Kingsfoil into the wound, and Elle cringed as Frodo gasped and wheezed for breath.
"Who is she?" Merry whispered from somewhere behind her, mirroring her thoughts exactly.
"She's an elf." Sam replied in amazement.
Of course she was. Elle now noticed the pointed tips to her ears peeking through her hair, stark white against the black, and the distinctly flowery, yet spicy scent that differed so greatly from the earthy tang of the hobbits, and the masculine, leather-like musk of the Ranger.
And just like that she knew. It was Arwen, the beloved daughter of Lord Elrond.
"He's fading." Arwen said, her eyes aghast as she took the offered strips of skirt from Elle and began winding them beneath his armpit and around his wound to hold in the crushed up plant.
Elle couldn't seem to find her voice, too stricken by fear for Frodo and in awe of the beautiful she-elf to do much else.
"He's not going to last. We must get him to my father." Arwen continued, standing gracefully and turning to Aragorn as he lifted the hobbit into his arms.
"I've been looking for you for two days," She went on as she followed Aragorn toward a gorgeous white mare pawing obediently at the grass. Elle stood beside the hobbits, watching in confusion and unable to find her voice. What was going on?
"Where are you taking him?!" Merry demanded as he stepped forward, distrustful as always.
The two ignored him as Arwen murmured frantically, "There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know."
Aragorn hefted the hobbit gently up upon the unknown steed, tucking his cloak in around him as he replied in a language Elle didn't recognise. It was as lyrical and soft as Arwen's voice, caressing her ears like a delicate, crooning song.
Arwen replied similarly, both of them looking deep into the other's eyes as she laid a hand upon his.
"What are they saying?" Pippin stuttered, confused and scared. They continued on in their foreign language, ignorant to the puzzled, outraged stares they were receiving. She'd had enough.
"Excuse me." Elle stepped forward aggressively, fed up and angry that they weren't including the rest of them in the conversation, "Just what the hell is going on?"
Both of them looked to her, startled by her crass outburst. Finding herself a little embarrassed, Elle refused to back down as she curled her fists and scowled at them both.
"We deserve answers, Ranger." She said scathingly.
"I must take Frodo to my people to heal." Arwen told her simply, before turning back to Aragorn and saying, "I do not fear them."
Aragorn took Arwen's hand in his, murmuring what Elle supposed must be some form of a goodbye.
"Ride hard. Don't look back." He finished in English.
The she-elf leapt up onto the saddle, her robes billowing around her as she held Frodo close and leant down to whisper something in the same strange language to the horse. Without even an acknowledgement toward the rest of them, she took off with the unconscious hobbit into the forest.
"What the fuck are you doing, mate?!" Elle immediately rounded on Aragorn after gaping openly at the speed of the elf's departure, "You don't just send Frodo off randomly with some stranger, not when he's dying!"
"Those wraiths are still out there, Strider!" Sam backed her up just as quickly, both their voices rising quickly into frantic, panicked shouts.
"Be calm, my friends." Aragorn assured them both, "She is no stranger. That was Arwen, the daughter of Lord Elrond. She is our best chance of getting Frodo safely to Rivendell."
"And what, now we're left out here as wraith-fodder?" Elle sneered, "Genius plan!"
Aragorn looked taken aback, before he replied quite calmly, "There is no need for sarcasm, my Lady. The wraiths seek only the Ring, they shall not waste time on us while their prize threatens to slip from between their fingers."
"Great, so we've just sent Frodo off to certain doom instead." Elle grumbled, though her tone was lacking in it's earlier acidity.
She was being unreasonable. She knew she was acting like a child, not to mention snapping at the man who'd just saved all their lives.
For some reason Elle couldn't quite muster up the energy to appear apologetic. Plus, now that her sudden burst of anger had ebbed away, only to be replaced by overwhelming exhaustion, she really couldn't care less.
Instead she took Sam's offered arm of comfort and staggered back to the fire, dropping down to her knees. She was finally feeling the effects of their four hour run, her muscles quivering like jelly as she raked a shaking hand through tousled curls. The braid had come sundone sometime after their encounter with the Nazgûl, and she hadn't even noticed.
"We shall rest here for the remainder of the night." Aragorn spoke with authority, tossing the last few torches back into the fire, "Lady Arwen will send horses once she arrives in Rivendell. We shall not have to walk for much longer."
The other two hobbits edged back toward the fire, silent and robotic as they followed Aragorn's lead and each rolled out their sleeping mats and blankets to sleep. They were all drained, and utterly spent. Too tired to argue anymore, they gave in to rest.
Elle moved, lethargic in her actions as she sluggishly rolled out her own mat and pulled the rough, woollen blanket Radagast had packed over her shivering form.
Everything was quiet for a moment. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. The only sounds were the crack and spit of the flames, the groan of trees leaning in the wind, and the rustle of leaves from above.
"You had better be right about this, Ranger." Elle whispered into the gloom, before the weight of her eyelids proved to be too much and she passed out.
Wowza, longest chappie yet AW YEAH!
A lot happened here, hopefully it wasn't too much at once. Very stressful events so far for our Elle, she just can't catch a break right now! Rivendell promises much needed rest and recuperation.
I was watching the first film the other day actually, and it got to the scene in Moria where Legolas says something along the lines of "We cannot linger here." And I had a nice little giggle to myself. Did not even realise when I titled this baby, but there you go!
Anyhow, please don't forget to review the chapter. Lemme know what you liked and what you disliked, etc etc. I'm very keen to hear! Also Follow/Favourite and all that jazz :)
Hope to hear from you all,
-T
xo