Chapter 4


Strider had taken a seat in the window of the cramped room and watched the road carefully. Sierra had taken a place near the door, intending to hold a vigil there in case of the black riders. Unfortunately, Sierra was greatly worn by fleeing the riders earlier and while the hobbits all slept peacefully in the room, Sierra was quickly fading.

"You should sleep while you can, miss Brander." Strider whispered to her. Sierra shook her head to clear the cobwebs and assured him she was fine, but it was very late and she was very tired. She must have been, for the next moment she was lifted from her seat and assisted to lying down in a bedroll on the floor. Having no more fight in her, Sierra quickly fell deep asleep and Strider, who was more practiced at maintaining watch and working through his weariness, returned to his place in the windowsill. His breath stilled when he noticed four riders seemingly cloaked by the shadows galloping into town. Gingerly, he rested a ready hand on his sword and waited.

It was not long before the hobbits and Sierra all woke with a start, the sound of horses screaming loudly in the night was quickly echoed by the high-pitched, furious screeches of the four horsemen. It appeared the troupe's trick had worked. It was an old one that even Sierra had used once to escape her parents' home when she was grounded: stuff the beds with pillows and make it appear as if there was a body sleeping soundly beneath the covers. Having gotten no more than a few minutes of rest, Sierra was quick to start drifting again when Frodo quietly asked Strider the question everyone wondered.

"What are they?" Strider was quiet a moment before answering. Another screech rang out.

"They were once men," he started, "great kings of men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one they'd fallen to darkness. Now they are slaves to his will." He glanced out the window and watched the riders, still screeching, saddle up and prepare to ride into the night once again. "They are the Nazgûl. Ringwraiths. Neither living nor dead." Another screech rang out and a shiver ran down Sierra's spine. She was right to think them akin to ghouls then, but felt a strange pity towards the riders; they were fools who had fed their greed and got nothing but an eternal sentence of slavery to an evil lord. "At all times they feel the presence of the Ring. Drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you…" it was a moment of quiet between them all then. "Get some rest, all of you. We still have a long journey ahead of us." With the suffocating presence of the Nazgûl riders gone, the hobbits and Sierra all found a much easier time getting to sleep again with the wraiths deterred. Eventually, even Strider slipped into a peaceful, if short, rest.


Dawn had yet to break, but the four hobbits and two humans hurried to pack, eat, and resume their journey. As the party trekked into the forest, Frodo asked Strider where he was leading them. Strider's only answer was "Into the wild." It was safe in the respect that few would ever see them in their travels, but dangerous too, with wild animals and rogues like Strider. For Sierra, if she could choose between the dangers of the wilds versus the Nazgûl, she would take to the wilds any day. In the front of the party was Strider, in the middle were the four hobbits, and lastly there was Sierra, who paused every now and again to check behind the party when she heard or felt something out of sorts. With them, there was Strider's horse, Bill; a fine brown pony with a blond mane and tail, a white blaze on his nose, and a white sock on each foot. The equine bore the gear for all of them, except weapons, allowing the party to move much quicker. At one point in the journey, Merry whispered to Frodo.

"How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" Frodo took a moment to study their guide.

"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer, feel fouler." The black-haired hobbit answered.

"He's foul enough." Merry agreed.

'But certainly not of the fairer sort.' Sierra's thoughts chimed in, reminded of his greasy, road-worn appearance.

"We have no choice but to trust him." Frodo finished. She didn't think she could ever trust Strider, heck, she knew right now she couldn't trust the man as far as she could throw him. But what choice did the party have? Strider knew what those things were, or was that a lie? Though, he did help keep them safe the night before and didn't carry the same or even a similar oppressing aura that Nazgûl at the tree roots did.

"But where is he leading us?" Sam whispered.

"Rivendell, master Gamgee." The hobbit started when the man answered, not realizing Strider could hear him. "The House of Elrond." Sierra glanced at him a moment. She had recognized the name Elrond from the stories at Bag End and from Bilbo, it was with the stories of other Wood Elves and told that Elrond was a very important elf. The hobbits knew of Rivendell and whispered excitedly amongst themselves about seeing the elves. Though Sierra was quiet about it, she too was excited to meet them.

Strider led them all up steep hillsides and through woods thick enough for Merry to touch two trees with his arms spread out wide. They passed through woods with few clearings and crested lands high enough to see for many miles around. Sierra couldn't hope to see the Shire or even Bree anymore for all the trees and spreads of land they'd covered. This went on for about two hours when Pippin yelped in surprise for stepping in the cold high-elevation snow. A few yards later and the hobbits and Bill paused to catch their breath in the thinning air, Sierra stood on the opposite side of the road, keeping watch.

"Gentlemen." Strider addressed, "We do not stop 'til nightfall."

"What about breakfast?" Pippin asked.

"You've already had it." Strider remarked.

"We've had one, yes," Pippin replied, "What about second breakfast?" Sierra stifled a laugh, she knew that the hobbits had an almost instinctive craving to eat and snack throughout the day. Second breakfasts, second lunches, and they even went so far as to request third dinners and elevensies if the time and quantity allowed. Without another word, Strider moved onward, Sierra following dutifully and beckoning her friends to come with a pitying glance. Then Strider shuffled through his bag and Sierra looked at him questioningly.

"Watch this." He muttered, pulling out an apple and lobbing it towards the hobbits. Merry caught it effortlessly and patted Pippin on the shoulder reassuringly. Strider even handed an apple to Sierra, who took it gingerly before taking a cautious bite. She was surprised. The apple was firm, juicy, and very sweet. Briefly, she wondered how he kept apples so pristine when Sierra, who was always so careful when buying apples, always ended up bruising them before they've even reached the table. Soon, every hobbit and human had an apple and they all were munching as they went. It seemed to be a silent agreement among the hobbits that a lonely apple was no standard second breakfast, but was certainly better than no second breakfast at all.


In time, the travelers found themselves wading through a marsh. Sierra had the wit to adjust the packs on Bill's back so they didn't dip into the foul mucky water, but unfortunately couldn't escape getting caught waist-deep in some places. The marsh had made their progress infinitely slower, especially when one or more of the party members would get stuck and needed rescuing. After the first rescue, Sierra wrapped a coil of rope around her like a bandolier and suggested the others have lengths of rope handy, just in case. Additionally, the marsh was also home to clouds of mosquitoes, which greatly irritated everyone and left them with itching spots all over their hands, faces, and the hobbit's legs and feet.

When night did finally fall, the hobbits sat to rest on the driest bit of land they could find and the humans split up to collect fire wood and food. Strider proved a proficient hunter and returned to the impromptu campsite with a young, fat buck. There wasn't much dry material in the way of firewood or kindling, so Sierra returned with a very slightly damp armful of firewood and a small bag filled with moss and the driest grass she could find. It was well enough there wasn't a big fire, any kind of light could alert pursuers or rogues to their position, though Pippin complained it'd take forever to cook dinner with such a pitiful flame.

The night was damp, cool, and dark, but the party ate reasonably well and rested decently in their bedrolls, despite the bugs and itching. Each hobbit and human had taken shifts, so everyone had slept a great deal more than the night of the Nazgûl attack. Strider had taken the first watch and kept himself up with a murmured song that sounded elvish to Sierra, and in its strange, sad melody she was lulled to a dreamless sleep. It seemed only a moment later that Frodo was gently shaking her awake for the dawn watch, but she was grateful for the rest and gladly took up her turn.

It was a half-light hour, not quite dawn, but not quite night either, and the sun would not rise for another half hour at least. Unfortunately, this was also a time of activity for the biting bugs. To keep them from biting every piece of her, Sierra put on thick gloves and wrapped herself in her cloak and hood, leaving only her eyes and the bridge of her nose exposed. She would swat at the bugs invading her vision when they became numerous enough, and quietly kept watch while Frodo began to set up the morning's fire from what was left after a venison dinner. Time soon marched on and the sun had crested the hills it hid behind, only to almost immediately disappear into the thick cloud cover over their heads.

Eventually, everyone woke, ate, packed, and set out again, the poor hobbits feebly trying to keep from scratching at the growing itchy welts. It seemed the mosquitoes had preferred the hobbits, because while Sierra and Strider had itched, they didn't feel the need to scratch half as badly as the halflings did. Their travels soon took them out of the swamp and deep into dry highlands at the foot of some mountains Sierra couldn't recall the names of. Perhaps they were the Misty Mountains she'd seen on maps. Strider paused when they reached a peculiar aged structure in this terrain.

"This was the great watchtower of Amon Súl." He commented, turning to the other five, "We shall rest here tonight."

"You're sure it's safe?" Sierra asked skeptically. Perhaps it was that she played too many games back home that had a medieval setting, but every watchtower in every one of those games had some enemy or challenge that needed to be beaten. Though she greatly doubted undead corpses lay within.

"Indeed." Strider started, "No one's been in there for many years. What's there now won't be more than a few rats and small spiders." Satisfied, the hobbits followed Strider and eventually Sierra did too with the tiring pony beside her; Bill seemed calm and she trusted the animal's intuition. They all sat to rest under an outcropping of the watchtower, the hobbits weary and glad to set down for the night. As the sun set, Strider pulled an object wrapped in cloth from his back and placed it on the ground, revealing the object to be four short swords.

"These are for you," Strider said, handing one sword to each hobbit, "Keep them close. I'm going to have a look around." Strider stood to leave.

"An' ya ain't got none for Sierra?" Pippin asked. With that, Sierra withdrew her knives and checked the blades on a bit of skin from the deer from last night; the pelt split nicely under the sharp edges.

"By the looks of it, she's already set." Strider commented, "Stay here." With that, he was gone. Several hours had passed and three of the hobbits volunteered to watch while Sierra and Frodo rested. Sierra was startled out of a somewhat pleasant sleep by Frodo's sudden cry of alarm.

"What are you doing?!" She looked around and panicked when she saw the fire at the center of the circle of three hobbits. Frodo quickly started to stamp out the fire. "Put it out you fools! Put it out!" Sierra picked up a large piece of the deerskin, shooed Frodo away, and quickly smothered the small flames under it. Sam, Merry, and Pippin protested, but Frodo was quick to hush them. There was a moment of silence where they all waited for something to happen; it was shattered by a familiar and terrible screech.

The Nazgûl had found them.

Going to the edge of their covered perch, all five watched as five black figures waded through the fog clinging to the ground below. Frodo drew his sword, prompting the others to do the same, and everyone hurried into the tower. The four hobbits and human woman stood ready, the hobbits with their short swords and Sierra with her knives. Each was on high alert and looked around wildly for the Nazgûl to appear. Frodo spotted the first one as it drew a terrible long sword from its scabbard. It was soon joined by the four others and each of the hobbits seemed to terrified to move. Even Sierra's hands were slick with sweat in their presence. Sam was the first to overcome his fear.

"Back, you devils!" he shouted as he charged one of the shadowy shapes, his sword clashing loudly against the ringwraith's. A moment later, they watched Sam get thrown back into a wall of the tower. Merry and Pippin were thrown aside as well and when Sierra made a move to defend Frodo, she was also hurled, this time into a statue, and the breath was instantly knocked out of her as pain blossomed in her back and spots danced in her vision. She was down and the five Nazgûl moved in on Frodo as they cast aside Merry and Pippin. She watched dizzily as Frodo magically disappeared. One ringwraith seemed to see him and reached towards where Frodo had been a moment ago. An instant later, the wraith recoiled and stabbed the seemingly empty air, bringing Frodo's pained scream into the air.

"Frodo!" She cried, clumsily scrambling to her feet. Suddenly a figure descended from above and surprised the Nazgûl: it was Strider. Wielding a lit torch like a weapon, he swung at the wraiths and they recoiled against his fierce attacks. Suddenly Frodo reappeared, screaming in pain, and Sam ran to him. Turning, Sierra hurried to aid Strider in beating back the ringwraiths with her knives. One of them had caught on fire in Strider's desperate attack and screamed in agony. Another had drifted too close and had also caught the flame. Soon, four of the Nazgûl fled the battle, screaming in fury and in pain, but one remained, determined to kill Strider and take back the Ring. With true aim, Strider pitched the torch at the final wraith and it screeched loudly as it fled the battle with its companions, a flag of flame flying on its shoulders.

Frodo's pained cries caught Sierra and Strider's attention.

"Strider!" Sam called as the man hurried to Frodo's side, "Help him Strider." The other hobbits and Sierra hovered near them all, wanting desperately to help their friend but no knowing how.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." Strider said, studying the quickly disintegrating blade the Nazgûl wielded, "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine." He murmured, helping Frodo up from the ground and carrying him in his arms. They all moved as fast as they could through the dark forest, Strider's torch leading them as he carefully carried Frodo's frail form. "Hurry!" He commanded, the screams of the ringwraiths seemingly all around them.

"We're six days from Rivendell!" Sam shouted as they struggled through the thick black brush, "He'll never make it!"

"He's a tough hobbit, Sam." Sierra reassured the portly halfling as she winced and touched her sore and certainly bruising back, "One way or another, he'll make it." Strider murmured comforting words to the quickly deteriorating Frodo. Sierra briefly wondered if he truly would survive, and if her words weren't more for herself than for Sam. Pitifully, Frodo pleadingly cried out for Gandalf and everyone winced and worried now for not only the Baggins but also their missing wizard. This adventure had quickly become a nightmare for everyone involved.


Tune in for another chapter next week.

Do feel free to leave comments. I welcome constructive criticism.