All Shall Fade

Chapter 4

Alone in the Dark

There were two things that scared me more than anything else in the world and those were small spaces and total darkness. As the mist crept towards us over the top of the hill, the five cloaked black figures emerged from the darkness on all sides of us, each wielding a long sword. The second I saw them, any light seemed to be sucked out of the place, and the air grew close, making me feel claustrophobic. They walked slowly, each step making my skin prickle with chills, and I suddenly felt horribly alone, even though I could feel my four companions huddled around me. Something told me that these menacing forms were more than just teenagers out to cause trouble in the forest. My eyes darted from one figure to another. They were shadows that appeared darker than the darkness that surrounded them. Like black holes in the night. The chill of their presence seemed to pierce through me, striking fear into my already terrified heart and I thought I heard them hiss quietly. I forced down a tremble of fear as they advanced upon us, slowly, as if they knew we could not run. They had us trapped.

“Back you devils!” Sam cried, rushing forwards and brandishing his sword, one of the figures tossed him aside as if he weighed nothing, and I heard him hit the ground some distance away as the figures continued. Their focus seemed to be fixed on Frodo as Merry and Pippin tried to block their path, but the too were forcefully pushed aside. I knew I should do something to protect Frodo, so I stepped in front of him, trying not to feel intimidated.

“Get back.” I growled as forcefully as I could. They didn’t even hesitate, so I reached up, aiming to draw back to hood of the closest figure – maybe if I could get a face to identify one of them, we could press charges for assault later. It seemed like a decent plan, until something slammed into my side and I was brutally thrown to the hard stone ground. I lay there, stunned and winded as they moved towards Frodo, although two lingered back, one close beside me, but it paid no attention to me. I saw Frodo drop his sword and it skidded across the stone towards me as he fell to the ground and looked up at the figures.

“Frodo…” I croaked as I saw him reach for the ring that hung around his neck, and he slipped it onto his finger. I had to blink to make sure I’d really seen what had just happened. He disappeared. I watched as one of the figures reached inside its cloak and drew out a smaller blade than the sword it held. In a mixture of horror and confusion, I saw him stab at thin air with the smaller blade. I heard Frodo cry out from somewhere, and I knew that they’d done something to hurt him. In a movement that felt dream-like and unreal, I grabbed Frodo’s sword that lay nearby, and plunged it into the leg of the nearest shadowy person. The second I did, a fire-like pain shot up my arm. It shrieked and I screamed, covering my ears as it turned to me, raising its blade and bringing it down. I barely blocked it as I lay on the ground, but the force of the blow shattered the blade of my small sword, and then I rolled away, just as I heard a yell. Both the figure and I turned to see Strider appear wielding a flaming torch and his sword, and he instantly started fighting the black figures. I didn’t have time to observe, as my nearest enemy resumed its activity of trying to kill me. I rolled away from it, dodging its blows and futilely trying to block with what was left of the jagged blade. I didn’t really know what I was doing; I was just relying in instincts. The only other time I’d handled a sword in my life was a large, ornamental katana that had hung on the wall in my grandparent’s attic. When I was six years old I lifted it down, and had managed to accidentally give myself a long cut running down my left arm. Twelve stitches and one life-long scar later I’d promised myself that I’d never touch a sword again. Oh well…

I was abruptly jerked back to the present as what was left of the blade was knocked out of my hand, and the figure raised its sword, preparing for the finishing blow. ‘Oh God, I’m going to die…’ I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the pain, but instead I heard a clash and another ear-splitting shriek. I looked up to see Strider locking blades with my attacker and forcing it back just as I heard Sam cry out.

“Frodo! Frodo!” He shouted as Strider set fire to the figure and it ran away, shrieking as it went. I looked around, and all but one remained, creeping behind Strider’s back. I was about to cry out and tell him to look out, but he’d already turned and thrown his torch straight under the hood of the cloaked enemy, who screamed loudly and retreated down the hill. I winced and began to haul myself off the ground as Strider ran to Frodo and crouched down. Maybe I was losing it... Maybe he hadn’t disappeared. It was the most logical explanation. I clutched at my aching ribs where I’d been hit as I dashed over in time to see Strider pick up the knife that had been dropped by the figure.

“He’s been stabbed with a Morgul blade.” He said as the blade appeared to dissolve, leaving only the hilt... This was all getting too weird. Strider seemed to drop it in disgust as I pushed Merry and Pippin out of the way.

“We need to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.” I stated, pulling back the collar of Frodo’s shirt, revealing the ugly blackened wound. “There’s no blood.” I gasped in amazement as he groaned in pain. Strider pushed me to the side as he examined the injury.

“This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine.” He said quickly, lifting Frodo off the ground and supporting him against his shoulder as he stood and quickly ran to the edge of the hill, holding his flaming torch high so we could see where we were going.

“What do you mean ‘Elvish’?” I cried as I followed him, “We need to get him to a hospital or something!” He ignored me as he continued down the hill, past where we had been resting and on down towards the forest. As I ran after him, I became aware of a painful throbbing in my arm, but I bit down hard on my bottom lip and ignored it. It was probably some kind of sprain or something, but it didn’t matter. Frodo needed medical attention and that was what mattered. I looked back to see Merry, Pippin and Sam close behind me – dragging Bill the pony along with them. I saw their anxious faces and tried to smile comfortingly. If Frodo wasn’t bleeding, the wound couldn’t be that bad… Right?

“Hurry!” Strider called back to us and I adjusted my pace to a gentle jog. I could hear Frodo crying out in pain, speaking confusing words that I didn’t understand.

“We're six days from Rivendell! He'll never make it!” Sam cried from behind me and I cast him a glance before speeding up a little. Somewhere in the darkness behind us, I could hear the calls of the black figures.

“Hang on Frodo.” Strider whispered in a tone that I found surprising. After our cold introduction, I hadn’t expected him to sound so… Caring.

“Gandalf!” Frodo cried out, the sound echoing off the trees that grew thickly around us, making me feel just as trapped as I had been on the ruin.

“W-what were those things?” I gasped as we ran.

“Ringwraiths.” Strider answered, his stony exterior returning.

“Wraiths? Like… Ghosts?” I asked. This couldn’t be possible.

“You could say that.” He replied, slipping past trees as if he was a ghost himself.

“No… This can’t be real.” I shook my head in disbelief. How did I always end up in these situations? Another screech echoed off the trees, distorting itself so I couldn’t pinpoint the source. Suddenly, the trees stopped and I found myself standing in a small circular clearing, surrounded by three large stone statues that resembled extremely grotesque creatures. They reminded me a little of the ogres and trolls from storybooks I read as a child. My arm was still throbbing, and with every rapid beat of my heart the pain seemed to grow a fraction worse. I saw Strider laying Frodo on the ground as he made a choking sound and stared up at the statues. Sam made his way over to him and held his hand.

“Look, Frodo. It’s Mister Bilbo’s trolls. Mister Frodo?” He tried to coax a response out of his friend, but Frodo just made a wailing sound similar to the ones the Wraiths had been making. “He’s going cold!” Sam cried as I dashed over and crouched on Frodo’s other side, watching helplessly as he broke out in a cold sweat and his eyes began to darken.

“Is he going to die?” Pippin whimpered nearby and I looked up, waiting for Strider to tell us that everything was ok.

“He is passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a wraith like them.” He answered solemnly and I shuddered as somewhere in the forest, a Ringwraith shrieked and Frodo seemed to answer with an echo of the sound.

“They’re close.” Merry stated fearfully.

“Hang in there Frodo.” I whispered, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of my hoodie as I felt tears prick at my eyes. ‘Don’t cry… Stay strong.’ I sternly told myself as Strider turned to Sam.

“Sam, do you know the Athelas plant?” He asked quickly.

“Athelas?” He questioned.

“Kingsfoil.” The man rapidly explained, as if time was running out for Frodo.

“Kingsfoil? Aye, it's a weed.” Sam nodded in understanding.

“It may help to slow the poison.” Strider stated as Sam stood and quickly disappeared into the forest. Strider turned to follow him, but then turned back to me. “Stay with the Hobbits.” He commanded me sternly and I nodded, whilst wondering what he meant by ‘Hobbits’. Maybe it was some kind of nickname for the shorter guys. I frowned in confusion and turned back to Frodo, but something caught my eye. I stared at my arm for a long moment, watching as spidery black lines, like veins, slowly inched up the inside of my wrist. They started at my fingertips and had spread across my palm, and seemed to pulse ever-so-slightly with each thud of my panicked heart.

“What’s that?” Merry asked, standing over both Frodo and myself.

“I-I don’t know.” I stammered in confusion. The more I looked at the lines, the more my arm seemed to hurt. I shook my head to clear my thoughts as I turned back to Frodo, hushing his pained cries. “It’s ok Frodo, Strider and Sam are finding something that will help.” I tried to comfort him as dark circles appeared under his eyes, making his skin seem more transparent. He was fading, I could feel it. “Just hold on a little longer Frodo.” I choked on my words as I gripped his hand tighter – as if I could physically hold on to his life. Suddenly, he turned to the side, and I followed his gaze. For a moment I could see nothing, but as my eyes adjusted to the gloom of the forest, I saw a woman walking out of the trees, with Strider and Sam close behind. She was clothed in grey, which was probably why I hadn’t spotted her at first. Who was she?

She spoke mesmerising words in a language I didn’t understand. I couldn’t identify it, but then again, I’d sucked at languages in school.

“Who is she?” Merry whispered as she approached Frodo.

“Frodo.” She said quietly, crouching down opposite me. I locked gazes with her for a brief second, before she looked down.

“She’s an elf!” Sam stated in quiet awe as I stared at her pointed ears. Elves and Wraiths? What the hell was going on here?!

“He's fading. He's not going to last.” She said in a melodic voice, turning to Strider who knelt beside her. “We must get him to my father.” I watched, unable to look away as Strider chewed up the leaves of a small plant and pressed the greenish pulp against Frodo’s wound, causing him to gasp in pain. I squeezed his hand and quietly hushed him, gently pushing his dark curls away from his cold forehead.

“I've been looking for you for two days. There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are I do not know.” The woman told Strider as he placed his hand on mine which held Frodo’s, coaxing his fingers out of my grasp, before lifting Frodo off the ground. I stood and followed them over to a tall pale grey horse that stood nearby. Strider lifted Frodo into the saddle as I looked on, feeling more useless and helpless than ever. Suddenly, Strider started speaking quietly in the language the woman had been speaking, and she replied. It sounded like they were arguing.

“What are they saying?” Pippin asked and I shrugged in reply. From what I could gather by their body language, they were arguing over who was going to ride the horse. Did it matter? Shouldn’t they be getting Frodo to safety rather than bickering?

“I do not fear them.” The woman said quietly and Strider answered in the strange tongue. From the way they looked at each other for a moment, I could tell that they were in love. I saw the meaningful glance they exchanged as the woman mounted the horse and sat behind Frodo, taking the reins and holding him close. Strider caught the reins for a brief second.

“Arwen, ride hard. Don't look back.” He said to her quietly, before releasing the reins. She said something to the horse in her language and suddenly they were off, a blur of grey movement disappearing into the trees ahead of us.

“What are you doing? Those wraiths are still out there!” Sam cried as Strider stared after them.

“She will get him to Rivendell faster than we can.” He assured Sam.

“Do the Wraiths have horses?” I thought out loud as hoof beats and shrieks echoed around us, making me shrink away from the sounds.

“Yes.” Pippin answered quietly.

“Then will she out-ride them?” I asked, turning to Strider. He didn’t answer. “Will she?” I cried.

“We can only hope.” He sighed, turning away from me. “We cannot afford to rest tonight. We keep walking.” He announced to the group and I sighed. No sleep. I don’t think I’d have been able to sleep anyway, knowing that those things were out there, hunting Frodo.

“Why do they want Frodo?” I asked as we set off in the direction that the horse and rider had gone. Strider didn’t answer me, and I felt that he didn’t trust me enough to give me an answer. “Will he make it?” I whispered, walking at Striders side, determined to get an answer out of him.

“If they make it to Rivendell in time.” He said, increasing his pace as he strode away from me. So that was why they called him ‘Strider’.

“In time.” I echoed, silently praying that they would make it before Frodo lost his battle.