Arwen rides on whilst the terrible wraiths give chase. Night gives way to morning, and still they pursue her. Never stopping, never resting, utterly relentless. From forest to open plains, across rivers and broken ground. Sometimes closing, sometimes falling behind. Frodo, half-unconscious, senses their presence, gasping for air, as if desperately trying to say something.
One of the Wraiths closes on him, reaching out with grey gauntleted hands, trying to snatch the Ring from him. Arwen spurs her horse, Asfaloth, onwards to even greater effort. They twist and turn, dodging wraiths and vaulting over stones and fallen trees. You would have been hard pressed to find a more expert rider, hard pressed to find a rider and horse who were in more perfect unison. They were like two dancers, steed and rider had known each other for many decades.
The thick tree line gives way to open ground, a lush and radiant glade, and she feels relief rush over her. She reaches the river, and Asfaloth splashes across the ford. She pauses and looks back at her pursuers, a look of defiance in her eyes. The nine have stopped at the edge of the water. Their mounts rear up, screaming, seemingly terrified of entering the river.
"Give up the Halfling, She-Elf!" The witch king demands from her. Empty words, nothing more. They will not get a rise out of her! She draws her sword, calling for a challenge. "If you want him, come and claim him!" The wraiths draw their heavy blades and urge their reluctant horses across the ford.
Arwen begins to chant to the river. "Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer, Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair! Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer. Rimmo nin Bruinen, dan in Ulair!" (Waters of the Misty Mountains listen to the great word; flow waters of Loud-water against the Ringwraiths!)
Gradually, the water level the spells full power comes into effect. A great flood descends upon the wraiths, swirling and boiling towards them. The waters hurtle around the tight meanders in the river, with peaks like white horses, literally white horses! The wraith's steeds see the raging waters, and immediately panic. They begin to flee, trying to outrun the waters in their terror. The hapless wraiths cannot control their wild horses, and are engulfed by the waters, cast from their mounts and washed away down the river.
Arwen, whilst drained by the enchantment, finally relaxes, a look of honest relief on her pale face. Yet, tragedy strikes. Victory turns to dismay, as Frodo breathing becomes shallow and rasping. He suddenly slumps forward, completely limp, his strength and will to fight on has ended. In great concern, she takes him off her horse and lays him on the ground. She knows what is happening.
"Frodo, no! Frodo don't give in! Not now!" But the young hobbit is too weak. Frodo falls still and stops breathing, possibly for the final time. Arwen embraces the hobbit tenderly, how a mother might cradle her children. She begins to cry. "What grace is given me, let it pass to him. Let him be spared - save him".
Chief, Strider and the three hobbits continue their trek, onwards now to Rivendell. Their thoughts were with Frodo, and they hoped that Arwen had gotten him to her father in time. Chief walks beside Aragorn, who was again leading the way. He glances behind him for a moment, looking out for enemies, but also to check on the hobbits. They were starting to lag behind. Five days of hard trekking, as well as the anxiety for their friend was starting to take its toll on them. For people so small however, they were incredibly determined. Chief had seen such determination before, in soldiers, inside countless marines. He knew the little ones would make it!
Strider meanwhile was showing no signs of fatigue. The man's endurance and stamina were remarkable for a normal human. For a human of his era, Strider was also remarkably tall. What was the average male height of Medieval Europe. 5'7'', 5'8''? This man was a giant compared to them. He wondered if this Strider was a different type of human, a different breed of man. It wasn't implausible. There were elves, trolls and wraiths in this world. If that wasn't enough, there were three little Halflings puffing and panting behind him! It may well have been true.
The man reminded him of Jacob Keyes, and he had the same kind of gravitas, the same kind of dignity, and that same look of strength in his eyes. Eyes could be deceptive of a persons' mood, and even their very personality. Through them you could peer into someone's very soul. It was another of the reasons why John chose never to take his helmet off. He needed to conceal his vulnerabilities from this dangerous and hostile universe.
Meanwhile, the Chief wanted to know more about these elves. They looked like humans, but Chief felt there was something more to them. He would start with the woman who had taken Frodo away. "So I take it that this Arwen is a friend of yours?" He asked Strider, rather bluntly. The ranger turned to look at Chief, a little smile tugging away at the side of his face.
"Yes. A very old friend indeed" he replied. Chief could tell the woman meant a great deal to him, but he wasn't interested in that.
"What can you tell me about these elves?" He continued, getting straight to the point.
"Indeed you must hail from a distant land if you know not about the elves. They are some of the wisest beings in Middle Earth. They are immortal, and devote their lives to learning and wisdom. They pursue perfection in all things. They are very peaceful, naturally, yet when they are called to war, they fight with a skill and fury beyond the skill of any man...although...I do believe that you could challenge that assumption!" He wondered if Chief had even met an elf before now. Many men hadn't after all.
"Thanks" Chief replied, taking the compliment. He was also a little confused. The elves were immortal? How was that possible? "Has an elf ever died from old age?" He asked in curiosity.
"Not that anyone knows of, and the elves never speak of such things. I think in their hearts that many elves are ashamed of their inheritance, and wish that they could die of peaceful causes. An elf can be killed, just as easily as any man, but an elf has never been known to die of old age. Although, elves have been known to give up on life, on occasion. Losing a loved one for instance. Elves have died from broken hearts"
"Oh for heaven sakes!" Snapped Cortana, her voice hidden inside of Chief's helmet. "That is the last straw! Chief, this guy is messing with you! All this bullshit about elves and trolls and horseshit monsters has to stop. It is not possible that anyone can be immortal!" Her frustrations were starting to get to her, and rampancy was drawing ever closer. She was too stubborn to let Chief know her problem.
Chief, oblivious to her turmoil, wasn't so sure. He had seen photos of strange creatures that lived on earth and other planets. He had learned about deep sea anemones, and the many species of jelly fish. Such animals didn't age. Others had regenerative abilities and could restore their genome indefinitely, so could theoretically live for ever. Some Spartans even had markedly slower ageing rates. Kelly for instance had possessed this trait. She had always held a seemingly implausible youth and grace for her years. How he missed them all.
Aragorn continued on, and he still wanted to know about Chief. "Many beings which live in Middle Earth are said to be immortal. The Nazgul are beyond death, their souls return to our world should they ever be slain. The Onodrim, mysterious creatures who reside in the oldest forests of the world, creatures of bark and wood, cannot die. And then there are the Maiar and the Valar. They pose as wizards, as wise men and powerful warlords in our world. They possess great power and sorceries, powers not of this world."
Now this was too much for Chief. Cortana may have been right after all! "That cannot be possible" He replied, suppressing his irritation. He wasn't about to alienate this man, not yet anyway. Aragorn sighed, he knew how farfetched it sounded. He had been sceptical in his youth. But seeing such things with your own eyes tended to alter ones opinions.
"You are a stranger to our lands Spartan. You obviously have no knowledge of wizards and demons. You've already seen the elves. In time, you will meet the Maiar. It is irrelevant if you believe I am deceiving you." He was still shocked that the Master Chief dismissed him so easily. It had been so long since anyone had actually challenged him. The rangers of the North had always followed his lead with blind obedience, and he had always hated it. He almost felt relieved that someone wasn't following him unreservedly.
John also brushed the dismissal off, but unfortunately, Cortana couldn't. "The absolute nerve! The son of bitch thinks you're ignorant! Ask him how the hell your damn grenades work! Go on Chief, ask him!" She was starting to lose it a little, he had to say something.
"Cortana, calm down!" Aragorn turned round in confusion. John had forgotten his loudspeaker.
"What was that Chief?" He could have sworn the warrior was talking to someone else.
"It's nothing Strider." The Spartan replied, sending another look at Cortana, which finally seemed to cool her temper. He hadn't realised her fault yet. Or perhaps his mind simply refused to acknowledge it. After all, her bolshiness was nothing new!
Aragorn nodded in acknowledgement. He'd seen worse. Still, he was growing slightly tired of being called by that name. "Strider is my false name Chief. You must already know that. My real name is Aragorn...can I ask what your real name is?" Chief wasn't sure, he was always uneasy about such things. Yet if this Aragorn trusted him enough to reveal his real name.
"You can call me John" Aragorn nodded simply and smiled, glad that Chief, that John, was starting to trust him.
"Slow down for a minute John, let the hobbits catch up. We're nearly there." The three hobbits looked tired, fear was wearing them down. They all had troubled looks on their faces, and Sam most of all. Something had been plaguing him mind the whole way, and he desperately needed to ask Aragorn something.
"What did Arwen say, about the five wraiths and four others? Are there more of them? Didn't we deal with the ones at the watchtower?" Aragorn's face was dark and stony.
"The wraiths are no longer men of this world. They are creatures of energy, as I said before. They cannot be killed, they cannot die".
'Creatures of Energy'. The words stuck in Chief's mind. Energy could not be destroyed. It was immutable. It was one of the physical laws which the universe was held together by. "However" Aragorn continued as he started to move again, "Their resurrection is not a natural one. The nine, the Nazgul, are eternally bound to the life force of their master, the dark lord Sauron. Whenever they are destroyed, he binds them together into life once more...If you can call what they have life. They are unthinking, and are slaves to his will...they will never stop hunting for..." He suddenly stopped dead.
"What is it?" Chief asked, almost anxious. But he realised that there was no threat. The hobbits had caught up, and were gazing at the river. The four hobbits had never seen one as large as this one. It was incredible!
"Why have we stopped Strider?" Pippin asked. Then everyone heard the horses.
Heralded by the thunderous sound of hooves, a patrol of elven guards rode out from behind the trees. They had been spotted, the elves were here on orders. "They certainly do have grace" Cortana remarked. "But I still don't believe this immortality nonsense!" Chief knew that time would tell, truth was always revealed in the end.
The lead elf rode across the river, and greeted the five companions. "Good morning friends. I am Mithrellas Amras, Captain of my Reavean Lancers. Lady Arwen sent us here to await for your arrival." The captain spoke with great authority, yet his voice was also warm and inviting.
"How is Frodo?" Merry asked him. The captain smiled warmly at the hobbit, taking Chief and Cortana back somewhat. He had charm and warmth that neither she nor Chief had known of a soldier.
"He is doing well. He heals, resting in the house of Elrond" Mithrellas replied kindly. The three hobbits breathe a sigh of relief now knowing that Frodo was okay. Aragorn and Chief were also relieved, but didn't show it so much.
"He has been through much, but now he, like yourselves, are safe. Come travellers, you must be weary from your long journey. Lord Elrond, master of Rivendell, invites you to his home with warm and open arms. You will be safe here."
They didn't need telling twice. They all began to cross the river, Chief following last. As soon as he got near to the elf captain, a lance was placed in front of him, blocking his way. The elven captain's face grew suddenly stern. "Just a moment good warrior, I do not recognise your kind. What is your name?" Aragorn intervened, placing a hand on the lance.
"He is a friend of the ring bearer, and a friend of mine. He calls himself a Spartan. Without this warrior, Frodo may not have survived. He is human, and I sense no darkness in his heart. He has done only good. He is not a servant of evil."
Mithrellas was surprised to say the least, that someone so tall could be a human. Only the men of Numenor had been so tall. But the line of Numenor had ended long ago, Aragorn was one of their last. He did not trust this Spartan, he even feared him a little. But he trusted Aragorn and his judgement. He gave the strange warrior the benefit of the doubt.
"I will let you pass, brave warrior" He announced, warm and charming once again. "If you are a friend of the ring bearers, you are a friend of Rivendell's. You will be honoured here, Spartan. We are in your debt!" If Chief had been a normal man, he might of started blushing.
"Thank you" he said, experiencing but the mildest feelings of flattery.
"These elves seem nice" Cortana remarked, "Seems like not all aliens are bad ones after all!"
The five companions, escorted by the elven lancers who followed behind them, made their way up the steep mountain road. With renewed vigour, the quickly arrived at the front gates. The gatehouse was very beautiful, a work of art. It was inscribed with elven runes and decorations, embroidered with the finest gold and silver thread. Swirling waves and curves were surrounding fine gems, precious amethysts and sapphires that glistened and twinkled like stars in the morning light.
They passed through the ornate doorway, and were amazed at what greeted them. The four hobbits were stunned. Even Chief marvelled at the tranquil beauty of the elven town. Aragorn and Mithrellas simply smiled at their reactions. It was good to see people react so well to their home.
"Isn't this pretty..." Cortana whispered, also taken aback by the splendour of the place.
"The climate is cool and refreshing in winter, never frigid. A thin blanket of snow will cover the houses in a breath-taking layer of fine powder, never forming ice." It was as if the captain was advertising a hotel or something! Cortana thought to herself. "The warm seasons are temperate, and the summer air will relax the body and warm the soul. A light and refreshing breeze will blow through the whispering trees, never forming a gale. The birds will sing in the morning and the evening, and will retire to the lower valleys with the coming of dark, ensuring a fine and peaceful night's sleep."
The captain could have gone on and on about this utopia, this elven sanctuary. But he would allow the travellers to discover those other wonderful things which he knew so well for themselves. "I will lead you to Lord Elrond now. Later, when Frodo is fully recovered, you may go and see him. But for now, you will recover yourselves. Elrond will see to you, he will gladly find you rest and a well-earned supper."
Chief didn't often give in to pleasure. But irrelevant of what he wanted, he knew it was going to be a nice stay here in Rivendell. The broad and leafy trees, crystal clear ponds and rivers. Powerful, beautiful waterfalls that drove from the rivers above, carving into the sides of the tranquil valley below. Great and gleaming arches and bridges, that looked as if they had been grown, not built. The elven beauty filled the entire valley, alongside dainty houses and great stone buildings that filled the space above and below. He could enjoy his rest and security, even he couldn't deny these wants.
"This is going to be a little different to the usual routine, isn't it! It's going to be a welcome change John, you'll see!" Cortana remarked, trying to reassure her Spartan. John couldn't actually remember the last time he had been in a place of such safety and ease. He had to make the best of it.
Mithrellas had now lead them to their destination, a fine looking building by any account. "This is the house of Elrond. He will make sure that your time here will be fine and good. I will leave you now, goodbye friends...Ere rhinc, min rocco-ecthel (move out lancers!)".
And with that, he and his riders galloped off back towards the way they had come, and as the sound of hooves died away, the five were left to their own devices. "It would be ill mannered to keep Elrond waiting" Aragorn announced. He was in good spirits, and started walking towards the grand and beautiful building Mithrellas had lead them to.
"Aragorn seems to know his way around here Chief...I'm glad that someone does!" He and the hobbits simply followed suit. The man commanded trust. Chief was starting to view Aragorn with the same respect as a superior officer of the UNSC.
Elves who passed the group by began to stare, and whispered amongst themselves. "You'll have to find me a translations book of some kind Chief...I can't stand not being able to understand what they are saying!" The feeling was shared by Chief, but he had no reasons to worry. It was harmless chatter, nothing more.
Once they had reached the doorway to the house of Elrond, they were greeted by another elf. He wore fine robes of azure blue and silky white and gold. His robes were detailed with sage green, and the common leaf and spiral patterns of the elf culture. His face was ageless, nether old nor young. Though his eyes betrayed the memory of great sufferings of ancient times. A testament perhaps, to the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight. His eyes were grey, like the clearest moment during dusk or evening, and within them was a pale warmth, like the light of the stars.
Venerable he seemed, like a king, and yet also like a seasoned warrior, healthy and at the zenith of his strength. He was the Lord of Rivendell, mighty and revered amongst both Elves and Men. He was lord Elrond, and he had come to greet the companions of the ring bearer. "Welcome friends, welcome to Rivendell. My people welcome you with warmth and open arms!" Chief was a little taken aback. Such an aura this man seemed to possess. His presence was most remarkable, and his being almost glowed with light and majesty.
"We are in your debt, good companions. For your actions have ensured the safety of your friend, Frodo Baggins, and may have ensured the survival of our three races. We cannot thank you enough for your actions. You will be welcome to stay in Rivendell for as long as you desire." He began walking forwards, he was regal and majestic beyond all measure. Then he turned towards John, and his only reaction was to smile, broad and warm, as if he had seen it all before!
"You must be the Spartan. Your presence here has caused quite a stir amongst my people, something that very rarely happens here. You must have many questions about our world and our races must seem very strange...but now is not the time for such questions. Your friends are weary and in need of sleep and much rest. You yourself must be weary Spartan, you will find great sanctuary and peace here in Rivendell. You will be able to let go of your fears and anxieties here." Chief nodded, he was without words. Elrond took no offence, who merely smiled in slight amusement.
"Go now and rest, and if you need it, breakfast is being served inside my halls. We are plentiful here, you will not go hungry or be without. On that you have my word. In the morning, you may come and find me, and I shall be ready to answer any and all questions you need answering. I hope you will find comfort here Spartan. You have no reason to be afraid anymore."
The clarity and wisdom of the man was remarkable. It was if he could stare into the very centre of your being and understand the very nature of your soul. He could see things about Chief that even he could not see. Yes, it was remarkable. The repression of his emotions, his anxieties about human contact. His fear of losing control, of failing a mission, of failing those he loved and missing those he had. ALL of this, was based on fear. His fear of failing to be a good Spartan, and his fear of being human. Chief sensed that Elrond knew all of this, somehow. In so many ways, John already felt as if a colossal weight had been taken off of his shoulders.
"Thank you, Lord Elrond" He said finally, and he bowed his head in respect for the man.
"You are most welcome, John." That startled Chief a little, the way Elrond had revealed the knowledge of his name. "Eat if you are hungry, rest if you are weary, sleep if you are in need of it. Go to my house, find whatever room that suits you and use it as you will. In the morning, all of your questions will be answered, and all your needs will be attended to."
With that, Elrond bowed low, and turned and walked away. Attending to some other business that the five weren't aware of. "Well, he was a remarkable person wasn't he?" Cortana said to him.
"He is" Chief replied. Such hospitality that he had shown, he had not experienced charity like it. This entire sanctuary was a little overwhelming. Time was a good teacher, and he would learn what to truly make of the place when due.
"So Chief...when are you gonna ask these elves where Santa's workshop is?"