First I'd just like to say thank you to those who left such kind reviews! It made my day to hear you guys enjoyed the story! Hopefully you'll like where it goes and I'm also open to any suggestions. Just as a point of interest, in Sindarin the letters DH (for example in the name Eredhel or the word peredhel) are pronounced as the English TH in "then". Anyways, here's the third chapter!
Bill Ferny whistled contentedly as he made his way down the long lane towards his house. The information he had sold to the Black Riders had proven accurate. The hobbit called Underhill had indeed been Frodo Baggins of the Shire. He had gotten a pretty price for that secret. As for why the Riders were interested in Mr. Baggins, Ferny cared not. Anything that made his pockets heavier was fine by him. Perhaps they would be asking about that Strider fellow next or the wandering wizard, and when they came searching he would have answers for them.
He had just taken the turn towards his stable when he was grabbed from behind and slammed against one of the trees that lined the road. Ferny gasped as the air was knocked out of him and looked towards his attacker. They were strong, with a lean build and a hooded face. They had him by the collar and stood a few inches taller than himself. "Let me go or you'll be sorry," Ferny snarled. The cloaked figure ignored him and simply pushed him harder against the gnarled tree.
"I doubt that. I doubt anyone from the town would come running if you cried out. Not that I blame them, you are a cruel wretch of a man."
"Perhaps not the townsfolk but there are darker things that would have no trouble taking care of a mere wanderer." He smiled wickedly.
"The Black Riders would leave you to rot and even if they did come I have no fear of them." It was then Ferny recognized the powerful bow and dark green cloak.
"You're the one who got into a brawl with Tom! You're one of those blasted Rangers!" he exclaimed.
"No, unfortunately for you I am not a Ranger. They try very hard to uphold their honor, a responsibility I'm quite free of. Now tell me what you told the Riders about the halfling," Eredhel growled and the man's eyes narrowed as he let out a snort.
"You have nothing against me, I'm not going to utter a word."
"Wrong answer." In one swift motion she had drawn a knife and pressed it to his neck. She pulled back her hood as he struggled against her vice like grip. "Tell me what you know about Mr. Underhill, what do the Wraiths want with him?" Her face was only centimeters from his now and he looked up to glare at her defiantly. But his scowl was met with cold grey eyes. Suddenly he felt as cold as the metal pressed against his skin.
"I-I d-don't know," he stuttered. "They asked about the name Baggins, I told them he had supposedly moved to Buckland but that it was more than likely a cover story for something else. I pointed them in the direction of Hobbiton and explained that the wizard had mentioned him when he passed through a few months ago."
"The wizard, you mean Gandalf the Grey? Where was he going?"
"I have no idea! The old man was secretive, asked to see Barliman in private. Now let me go!" His hands clawed at his neck but she still had not loosened her hold on him. She searched his face for any hint that he was lying. When she was satisfied he had told her everything she released him and he fell, gasping, to the muddy ground. When he looked up again she was gone, having disappeared into the trees.
Eredhel was deep in thought as she cut through a small patch of forest to get back to the inn. The news that the enemy had heard of Frodo and his home was troubling and she couldn't imagine how the information had reached him from the Shire. Even more concerning however was the delay of Gandalf, the wizard was very rarely late, especially for something as important as his current task. If he was absent then it was not by choice. She continued to ponder this as well as how they would manage to depart Bree until she reached the Prancing Pony. When she arrived, she knocked twice on the door and was met with the nervous face of Butturbur peeping out from the small window. He slid back several locks and opened the door just enough to allow her inside. She slipped past him and heard him re-lock it as she headed up the stairs.
Once at Strider's room she tapped out a familiar pattern on the door. Aragorn answered it a moment later and she entered, her eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. Three of the hobbits were sat side by side on the bed while Frodo stood by the fireplace. He was surveying her cautiously, the letter from Gandalf held in his fist. "I take it your investigation went well?" said Aragorn from the corner, a smile playing at his lips.
"Yes. Ferny told the Black Riders about a Mr. Baggins from Hobbiton who suddenly decided to move to Buckland. He also confirmed that Gandalf passed through here a few months back. Thankfully, he did not know why the Riders are searching for you and I highly doubt he was lying, he values his own neck far too much to risk it over some gold coins."
"Well that at least is a small advantage. We have been awaiting your return, Mr. Baggins has some more questions for us," explained Aragorn. Eredhel nodded and the hobbit took a deep breath, mustering up his courage.
"Strider introduced you and although I wish I could trust you it is quite possible that you could be lying about your identities," said Frodo. Eredhel turned to him and he shrank away from her haunting stare.
"If we were servants of the enemy you would be dead by now."
"Well no offense, but you don't exactly look like the friendliest sort of folk," said one of the other hobbits and Strider laughed.
"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost," recited the ranger.
"The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost," whispered Eredhel with a hint of a smile.
"That was in the letter as well! So you must be who you say you are," decided Frodo.
"Bilbo wrote that for Aragorn when he met him in Imladris," said Eredhel. She removed her hood and the hobbits gazed curiously at the pointed ears poking out from her dark brown hair.
"I believe he mentioned you before," said Frodo. The older hobbit had often told him the story of his quest with Gandalf and the dwarves. Sam had also heard the tale and both of them had been particularly interested in his visit to Rivendell and Mirkwood. Over the past few years it had become more common to see elves pass along the borders of the Shire, making the journey to the Grey Havens. It was considered great fortune to come by one on the road and their beautiful songs were said to be beyond compare.
"I had just returned from an orc hunt when the company of Thorin Oakenshield came to Rivendell. I met Bilbo during his stay in the valley, and then accompanied them to the Misty Mountains before taking my own path. I was also at the Battle of Five Armies" she explained. They stared at her curiously, here before them was an elven warrier, the like of which they had only ever heard of in stories and songs. A moment later a curly haired hobbit spoke up.
"Well I'm Merry Brandybuck," He bowed. "That there is my cousin Peregrin or Pippin Took and the other is Samwise Gamgee." Eredhel inclined her head to each of them in turn, noticing that Sam in particular was staring at her with wide eyes. The four hobbits then set their bags on the floor and began to get into the bed. Strider placed a chair against the door and sat in it while Eredhel stood next to the window. She watched the glistening rain drops trickle down the pane, leaving silvery trails in their wake. Over an hour later a screech broke the silence and the hobbits woke with a start.
"Our trap has been found," said Eredhel grimly.
"What are they?" asked Frodo.
"They were once great men, kings among their people, then under the deception of Sauron, were gifted nine Rings of Power. They were blinded by greed and did not pay heed to what peril the rings would bring. One by one they fell to his darkness. Now they are slaves to his will," explained Strider softly. "The elves call them the Nazgùl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. Always they can feel the pull of the Ring and they are drawn to its power."
"Terror is their greatest weapon, it causes their enemies to flee rather than fight," said Eredhel suddenly, causing the hobbits to jump. She seemed to blend into shadow, so much so that they often forgot she was even there. "They can sense fear and their Black Breath sends even the bravest warriors to their knees. As long as you carry the Ring, they will never stop hunting you." Frodo looked over at the elf. Even in the darkness he could feel her grey eyes boring into him and he shifted uncomfortably. "Go back to sleep. They will not risk searching anymore rooms tonight." she said. The halflings glanced around nervously but returned their heads to their pillows. Each of them remained shaking for a good time after.
They set out bright and early the next morning, leaving Bree while the sky was still grey and the streets were empty. Aragorn had acquired a pony from old Ferny (at an outrageously high price) and Sam had taken a particular liking to him. The animal, which Sam had christened Bill, now carried a few bags along with some provisions. Once they were out of view, they left the road and headed into the wooded hills. Eredhel scanned the path below them, looking for any sign of the Black Riders while she listened to the hushed voices of the hobbits. "Strider, where are you taking us?" asked Frodo.
"Into the wild," their guide answered.
"I'm still not completely convinced that these two are friends of Gandalf's," whispered Merry, though Eredhel and Aragorn could easily hear him.
"She is an elf, I do not think evil can endure in the Fair Folk's hearts. As for Strider, I believe if he were a servant of evil he would look fairer but feel fouler," said Frodo.
"Well he's foul enough but what the elf?" asked Pippin quietly. "Did you see what she did to that man at the tavern? No wonder Butturbur was scared of her. Sometimes when she looks at me I feel odd, as if she can see right through me. Right quiet too, could sneak up behind you and you'd never even know."
"And I wouldn't fancy having one of those arrows pointed at me," added Merry.
"I know but we must trust them," insisted Frodo.
"Where are they leading us?" came the voice of Sam as he led Bill by the reins behind them.
"To Rivendell Master Gamgee. To the House of Elrond," replied the ranger.
"You hear that! We're going to see more elves!" said Sam happily. They continued traveling through the trees, stopping only at night. This was a shock for the hobbits when they attempted to cook what they called "second breakfast". Fear of their enemy pushed them to move as quickly as they could and during the night either Strider or Eredhel stayed up on watch. After several days they reached the Midgewater Marshes. The weather was cold and a constant mist hung around their knees. The hobbits wrapped their cloaks tightly around them and swatted at flies. Eredhel was the only one who did not seem to be bothered by the dreary weather. She did not shiver from the wind or pull up her hood against the rain, often turning her face towards the falling drops.
It was getting dark and they were about to stop and set up camp when a loud splash broke the gloomy silence. Pippin cried out as he was submerged up to his neck in icy water. No sooner had he started to struggle however when two hands grabbed him under the arms and lifted him from the water with ease. He was set back on the ground and turned to find Eredhel behind him, straightening her bracers. "Th-thanks!" he stuttered. The elf nodded and gave him a small smile then dropped back to keep an eye out behind them. Pippin gazed after her for a moment and decided maybe she wasn't so bad. He didn't quite know what to think of her really. She had looked rather fair when she smiled but she reminded him of a wolf, that no one was sure was tame. He pondered this, and many other things as he snuck glances back at their second guide.
A few minutes later they found a spot to set up camp and Sam began to make a fire. Strider grabbed his bow and made to go off in search of food but Eredhel laid a hand on his arm. "Let me save both of us some time," she said with a smirk. He laughed, laying his bow on a rock beside him and took a seat next to it as she went off into the fog. Eredhel's footsteps were silent as she focused on her surroundings. After twenty minutes she heard a sniffling and soon came across several deer, grazing on the long shoots of grass that grew out of the water. Her arm reached into her quiver and carefully drew an arrow. She placed it on the string and pulled back, feeling for the perfect amount of tension. She lined the arrow up with a buck at the edge of the group and aimed for just behind its shoulder, shooting in one fluid motion. Another arrow was already nocked but she did not need it. The buck fell, the shaft sinking halfway into its ribs. Eredhel picked it up and headed back to the camp.
"Nice shot," said Aragorn as she came into the firelight. Eredhel nodded and dropped the creature in front of him. After Aragorn had skinned the animal Sam eagerly began putting together a stew. Once they finished their meal the hobbits quickly fell asleep, tired after walking all day. It was Aragorn's turn to keep watch but Eredhel lay awake. Elves did not sleep the same way as humans but he would never allow her to take his place. She preferred the cover and security of trees and the flat, open marshes made her worry. If an enemy found them there would be nowhere to hide. Late in the night she heard Strider softly singing the song of Lúthien Tinúviel, an elf who gave up her immortality for a mortal man. Eredhel got up and went to sit on a rock next to her friend.
"How long has it been?" she asked.
"Too long, I have not returned since our encounter with Elladan and Elrohir," Strider explained.
"She will have missed you." Eredhel looked over at him as he took a long draw from his pipe.
"I know but your sister deserves someone far more virtuous than I," he said sadly.
"It is only his blood, not his weakness that runs through your veins. His mistakes are not yours. Your choices and fate belong to you alone, do not allow your lineage to affect them," she said as she placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Words of wisdom, as usual." He chuckled and stared into the embers of the fire. "What about you? Have you since visited the Last Homely House?"
"I returned once, over ten years ago and stayed only for a few weeks. I left with my brothers when they went to join the Dúnedain. It is not my wish to go back to the valley," Eredhel replied. Aragorn sighed and shook his head at her response but remained silent. He could hardly judge her for her decisions when he too had chosen the life of a vagabond, wandering from place to place. The two of them sat together for the rest of the night. They did not speak much but neither of them minded the silence. Both found the others presence comforting and they passed the hours engrossed in their own thoughts.
The next morning the group cleared away the signs of their camp and continued on. They hiked all day before stopping in a small dell set into the side of a great, grassy hill. It was so high up that they could see for leagues around them in every direction. "Where are we?" asked Merry.
"This is the great watch tower of Amon Sûl, better known as Weathertop. It is frequented by Rangers and offers a good view of our surroundings," explained Aragorn and handed each of them a small sword. "We're going to look around. Stay here." Eredhel followed him out into the surrounding darkness. The two made their way around the hill, searching the land below for any sign of pursuers.
"We are still four days from Rivendell," she said.
"Four if you were on your own perhaps but with the hobbits and pony it will take us six. That's only if we meet no trouble," he replied. The elf nodded and they continued to scope out the road below them. Almost half an hour later a scream rang through the air, followed by the yells of their companions.
"The Wraiths!" hissed Eredhel and they sprinted back to the dell.
It was empty but as they whipped around they saw several black figures entering the ruins above them. Aragorn grabbed a torch from the fire and followed Eredhel as she ran up the hill, her bow drawn in preparation to fight the riders. The four hobbits were standing in the middle of the ancient temple, attempting to ward off the black creatures that were encircling them. Eredhel nocked an arrow and sent it flying into one of their faces. Another followed, this one striking it in the neck. The Wraith screamed and fled down the hill, leaving the other four behind. Eredhel turned back to the hobbits to see that three of them had been cast aside and the remaining Nazgûl were advancing on Frodo. She ran towards them and watched in horror as he slipped on the ring. The Witch King reached for where he had vanished and let out a shriek as he stabbed the air. Eredhel ran towards him, drawing her blade with a snarl. Her opponent hissed at her, swinging for her throat as she reached him. She ducked and stabbed towards his knees but was blocked. They continued to exchange blows and she could hear the hobbits calling to her. Casting a look over her shoulder she saw the two of the remaining wraiths advancing on them while the third joined his leader. Eredhel's brow narrowed in concentration as she defended against both her enemies. Finally she parried one of their swords and swung for their head while kicking him backwards. It won her a few seconds and she quickly drew her bow, sending an arrow into her other opponent. Not waiting to give them a chance to recover she turned and ran towards the halflings. A second later Aragorn jumped onto the hilltop, the attackers retreating from the hobbits to challenge him. Eredhel pulled out her long knife and ran to help him just as Frodo became visible once more. The pair fought against the remaining Wraiths, forcing them to retreat back down the steep slope. Once they were gone Aragorn raced to Frodo's side. The hobbit was gasping for air and clutching his shoulder in pain.
"Help him Strider!" said Sam frantically as he watched the man pick up a black sword then throw it to the ground, the blade turning to ash.
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade. He needs the healing powers of the Elves," he replied and picked up Frodo from the ground.
"They're regrouping," yelled Eredhel as her eyes searched the road below them.
"Can't you help him?" cried Merry, turning to her.
"No, I have some skill in healing but a dark magic runs through those blades, only my father has the skill to heal such an injury," she answered and followed them down the hill.
"Hurry!" the Ranger shouted.
"You said we are six days from Rivendell. His wound will worsen, he won't make it," whispered Eredhel. They continued running for several hours, finally stopping when exhaustion threatened to overtake them. Strider checked Frodo's wound and poured some water on it but it made little difference. After a few hours rest they resumed their plight, fearing that the Wraiths were right on their trail. Strider and Eredhel led them deep into the forest, making their trail as difficult to follow as possible. They continued like this for the next two days, going as fast as they could and stopping only when weariness forced them to. Soon Frodo had to be placed on the pony when Aragorn grew tired. The halfling's face turned grey and his vision began to flicker. It was near midnight on the second day when they stopped in a clearing inhabited by three stone cave trolls. The same three that had captured Bilbo and the dwarves all those years ago. Sam mentioned this to Frodo but his friend only murmured in reply. Aragorn turned to the hobbit.
"Sam the athelas or kingsfoil plant, do you know it?" he asked.
"Aye, it's a weed. It's got pointy leaves and small white flowers does it not?" replied Sam.
"Yes, it may slow the poison, we must find it!" They ran into the trees to search the forest floor. Eredhel brushed aside ferns and leaves, trying to catch sight of the pale petals. Suddenly she straightened, sensing someone nearby. The feeling was familiar but she had trouble placing it. Eredhel bent and moved towards Aragorn, but there was somebody behind him.
The man turned around to find a sword at his neck. His eyes widened as he looked up at the smooth face and red lips smiling at him. "It is not often that a Ranger is caught off his guard," said a warm voice.
"Yes and even less often that he travels alone," added Eredhel, her knife drawn. The cloaked figure turned towards her and it was the last person in Middle Earth that Eredhel expected to see. "What in the name of the Valar are you doing here Arwen?"
"Word reached Father of your pursuit by the Wraiths, Elladan and Elrohir are hunting so I came searching for you."
"Yes well, the Riders caught up to us and the Ringbearer was stabbed by one of them," explained Aragorn. He rose with a clump of athelas in his grip and they followed him back to the hobbits. Once in the clearing, Arwen rushed to Frodo's side and spoke soothingly in elvish to him. Aragorn joined her and placed a few leaves on his wound. Frodo gasped and his eyes fluttered.
"That will only buy him a few hours. Five are behind us and we have no idea where the other four could be," said Eredhel, standing above them. Arwen turned to her sister, she had not seen her oldest sibling in years but at the moment she had to focus on the injured hobbit.
"Yes, we must get him to Father" she said and Aragorn picked him up once more to set him on Arwen's horse.
"Dartho guin ti. Rych le ad tolthathon, (Stay with them. I will send horses back for you,)" he said but Eredhel stopped him.
"Rochon ellint he, (She is the faster rider,)" Eredhel nodded in her sister's direction.
"Andelu i ven, (The road is too dangerous,)" he insisted.
"Frodo fîr. Ae athradon i hir, tur gwaith nin beriatha hon, (Frodo is dying. If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect him,)" Arwen said firmly. "I do not fear them."
"Be iest lîn, (as you wish,)" agreed Aragorn and Arwen mounted the horse. Eredhel adjusted Frodo's position then turned to her sister.
"Ride hard, stop for nothing."
"And Arwen, do not look back," added Strider. The elf leaned low over her horse and urged it forward. They galloped away and were soon lost among the trees.