Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

The men were crowded around too closely, knit together like chain mail made to keep me away. As if I was a sword, and Frodo their heart. I had to push through them forcefully, their stupor freezing them in their spots. When I finally broke through, Frodo was still not there, but Peregrin crashed into me. Looking up at me with frantic eyes, he began to stutter.

“Help! He-he took Frodo! He snatched him away and I couldn’t do anything!” He stammered out.

“Where? Where did he take him?” I asked quickly, and Peregrin’s eyes flickered over to the staircase. I briefly made out the shape of a man, but he disappeared up the stairs to quickly. “Go with the others.”

With determination propelling me forward, I parted the crowds once more and walked confidently to the staircase. Ascending it, I waited until I was out of view from the rest of the bar before taking out my swords. They glimmered in the moonlight flooding in from the window; the Elvish inscriptions gleaming. They had been a gift from Elrond, and I prayed they would not fail me now.

To my left I kicked in the first door, preparing myself for the nothingness that was inside. To my right, I repeated the process. Again, and again, and again, until finally I came upon the right room. There was a man inside who had a sword pointed towards me. I lunged at him, a familiar feeling rushing through me as we locked in momentary combat; a euphoria flooding me as my blade slashed across his skin.

“Stop!” Frodo cried. The man blocked my final attack and I reluctantly looked over at the hobbit. “He is not a foe.” He explained. I exhaled my breath, all anger dissipating as I studied the man. His eyes were burning on me; his pale eyes that looked familiar. I took a few steps back, surveying him from afar.

“Have we met before?” I asked, a memory flooding into my mind.

Running, then crashing. Another body mirrors my own as we stumble backwards and fall onto the ground. Apologies are exchanged and his hand flies to his arm. Are you alright, I ask. Yes, he replies. Blood has stained his clothing and his skin. I smile. No you’re not, I tease. He grudgingly lets me help bandage him. Thank you, he says, eyes making an impression. Their pale blue, yet still green, colour was impossible to miss, impossible to forget. You’re welcome, I reply. He means to say something more, but I leave. Never get tied down, I had told myself, never.

“The North Downs…” He muttered, and I shook the experience.

“What were you doing?” I asked suddenly, remembering the reason for being here. Without warning, the remaining three hobbits burst into the room, one carrying a candelabra, one carrying a stool, and one brandishing his own fists as means of offense. I signaled for them to lower their weapons, and they did so wearily while I returned my attention to the man before us.

“You have brave friends, Master Baggins.” He announced. “But they cannot save you. They are coming.”

“Who are ‘they’?” I demanded, taking a step forward while the hobbits looked nervously between themselves.

“I shall explain later, we must leave now.” He said urgently. I hesitated, giving my heart a moment to judge his character. If I felt even the slightest hint of ill intentions, I would take these hobbits the other way. I waited, and there was nothing. Without removing my eyes from the man, the ranger, I nodded.



“Have you enough blankets?” I asked aloud to the four hobbits. They were all tucked snugly into a double bed, covers pulled up to their necks like children. Frodo was the only one still awake, and he nodded slowly. His eyes were distant, gone elsewhere with his thoughts. I offered a smile before turning to the door and making sure it was locked. I then doused the lamp at the bedside and joined the ranger at the window. I began to remove the small bandage he’d wrapped around the wound I’d made, feeling ashamed upon seeing the depth of the injury.

“The wizard is not coming.” He said in a low voice. I nodded once, carefully threading a needle I had acquired from the bartender. I was careful to wash the wound before beginning to sew it up.

“Will they return home?” I asked in an equally quiet voice. We were like two parents discussing matters their children were not meant to hear, hushing our voices despite their listening. I hoped Frodo was asleep.

“No, they will go to Rivendell.” He said, wincing slightly.

“I’m sorry.” I muttered, trying to work as quickly as possible. “Rivendell? Is that where Gandalf will be?” I asked, my heart rising a little at the thought. This meant I would be able to see two friends at the same time. The man nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the glass; waiting. “What is coming?”

“The Nazgûl.” He said. My eyes grew wide, and for a moment I stopped working.

“Here? Why?” I asked. He turned to look at me for the first time, all seriousness now taken over.

“The ring he carries, it is no toy.” He whispered. I crunched my eyebrows together.

“But it cannot be—“ I stopped short, realizing by his stare that I was in fact right. The one ring, Sauron’s prize possession, in the hands of a hobbit. “What does Gandalf want to become of him?” I hissed. The ranger sighed, as if sharing my emotions. I looked back at the hobbit who now lay asleep, and sighed as well.

“What is your name?” The ranger asked quietly. Turning back to face him, I hesitated.

“Vanya Maethoriel.” I replied, watching as his eyes danced to the ceiling momentarily.

“It means…’Beautiful Warrior’.” He said. Smiling slightly, I replied.

“Pedich Edhellen?” I asked. You speak Elvish?

“Im guine Rivendell, an anaan.” He replied. I lived in Rivendell for a time. I smiled, knotting the thread and quickly wrapping up his arm.

A screech pierced the air outside, and we looked out the window in unison, the hobbits sitting upright in the bed. It was a screech, not a scream. A scream can only be created by something alive; the Nazgûl were not.

“What are they?” Frodo asked. Aragorn looked back at him while I watched the black riders break down the gate.

“They were once men, 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 falling into darkness.” He said. The horses grew restless and I prayed Feredir would be safe. "Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring. Drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

I looked over at the hobbits, all their faces painted with fear at the prospect of being hunted by something that was neither alive nor dead. I felt unreasonably attached to these brave hobbits; as if it was my duty to protect them. Save them from any further peril than they were already in. Walking over to them, I crawled onto their bed; their feet did not reach halfway down the mattress.

“Would you all like to hear a story?” I asked, another cry stabbing at our eardrums. Peregrin nodded his head vigorously. I smiled, pulling up one of my sleeves and showing them a large scar I had from a fight.

“What on earth is that?” Peregrin asked.

“I was young, and I was foolish, and I thought it would be a good idea to go marching alone into Mount Gram.” I began.

“The refuge of the Goblins?” Meriadoc breathed in disbelief. I nodded, almost laughing at the memory.

“I was twenty six years of age, and I believed I was invincible. I got through quite a few of the creatures, but needless to say I had to retreat. I had only a few scratches, but as I was leaving this great big goblin—the leader no doubt—lunges in front of me!” I said in mock horror, animating my story to get their mind off of the creatures so close by. “And how he moved so swiftly with big of a stomach was beyond me, half of me believed him to be a cave troll. But he comes at me, and I go to slide beneath his legs. And just as I think I’ve cleared him, his rusty blade drives into my arm.”

“How did you escape?” Samwise asked in wonder.

“Well I took the blade with me.” I said, causing them all to cock their heads to the side. “They were all so shocked he’d actually hit me that I was able to slip away. Of course it was quite the nasty wound to stitch up, and there was an awful lot of blood on the ground but I lived.” I smiled. “Now get some sleep, we’ve a long trip ahead of us.”

“You’re staying with us?” Frodo asked, a hint of happiness ringing in his voice that I was glad to hear.

“Did you expect me to desert you all?”