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Beauty and a Beast
The Watchtower of Amon Sûl
Arryn and Aragorn stopped as they noticed ruins at the top of a tall hill. Arryn knew that Aaliyah was feeling uneasy, so she dismounted, and she rubbed her nose.
“Amin will call lle manka lye need lle…” She said, softly. * I will call you if we need you* She gently slapped her horses rump, and she sped off like a streak of black in the day. The Hobbits made their way towards Aragorn.
“This was the Great Watchtower of Amon Sûl. We shall rest here for tonight.” A chill ran down Arryn’s spine, and she shuddered. There was something wrong here, something evil. Unsettling as well. It made her fingers clench up into fists, and she took a deep breath, and she unclenched them. The Halflings started to take a well-earned rest, while Aragorn and Arryn were preparing to investigate the nearby lands, with a small hope to be able to catch something for dinner for the 6 of them. Aragorn opened one of the bags, and he took out 4 small swords, and he handed them to the 4 Hobbits. Arryn began to think; maybe it was just her, and she was sensing something far away.
“Keep them close. We’re going to look around.” Aragorn instructed.
“Do not make a fire, it may attract attention, and that is not really what we want know, at this time of night…Stay here” She said, absentmindedly.
She and Aragorn left the Halflings, and they split up. Arryn took the bottom half, and Aragorn the top. Arryn looked around, and she found nothing, which she found extremely odd. She could feel the strange shiver go up her spine. Something was near, she pushed it out of her mind, and she decided to go look for her brother, maybe he had more luck than she. Before she could find him, she heard the shriek of a Nazgûl, and the terrified screams of the hobbits. She ran back, as fast as her legs could carry her. When she arrived to the top, she hoped to find her friends, but instead she found a burning fire. She watched in horror, as she saw a Nazgûl stab Frodo.
“No!” She cried. The Nazgûl turned to face her, and she felt that shiver run through her. She stared back into the faceless creature. He was the Witch King of Angmar. He had this vibe about him. He was frightening, but he somehow felt familiar to her. She shook her head, bringing her back to the present. The Witch King was about to attack her, she avoided it, and she ran and stood protectively in front of Frodo. She remembered the fire, and she held her hand out towards the fire. The Witch King ran over to her, his blade raised. She began to sweat.
“Come on. Come on! Please work!” She thought. The Witch King was about to stab her in the chest…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Finally, at the last moment, just he was about to bring his blade in contact with her, a flaming torch flew into her waiting hand, and she brought it through its chest. It shrieked, and he ran towards the edge, and she was not sure if he fell or not. Before she had time to think, she was attacked by another. She swung the flaming torch, and her sword together, and she lit it on fire. It also turned and ran to the edge.
She felt something cold and sharp enter at her shoulder, and she felt woozy. She pushed the pain out of her head, and she threw her torch in the hood of the beast. It shrieked, and he fell off the hill. She turned her attention back to Frodo, and she and Aragorn ran over to him. Arryn looked at his wound, and she felt terrible, and she touched the side of his every growing cold face. Aragorn picked up the blade.
“He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade…” The blade turned to ash.
“This is beyond my skill to heal…” Arryn said, as she grabbed her shoulder. Aragorn noticed, and he inched away the clothing from her shoulder. Sure enough, she had the same wound on her shoulder, as Frodo did at his side.
“I’m…..fine.” She lied.
“He needs Elvish medicine…” She added.
Aragorn picked Frodo up, and he carried them down the hill. As Arryn and the other Hobbits descended, she let out a soft four tone whistle, and she heard the soft neigh of Aaliyah. Aragorn put Frodo on Aaliyah’s back, and he made Arryn sit behind him, for she could not run as well as she used to. In the distance, they could hear the cries of the Nine Riders.
“Hurry!”
“We’re six days from Rivendell! We’ll never make it!”
Arryn argued, but she didn’t have the strength to continue.
“Hold on, Frodo.”
“Please, hold on Frodo.”
“Amin will call lle manka lye need lle…” She said, softly. * I will call you if we need you* She gently slapped her horses rump, and she sped off like a streak of black in the day. The Hobbits made their way towards Aragorn.
“This was the Great Watchtower of Amon Sûl. We shall rest here for tonight.” A chill ran down Arryn’s spine, and she shuddered. There was something wrong here, something evil. Unsettling as well. It made her fingers clench up into fists, and she took a deep breath, and she unclenched them. The Halflings started to take a well-earned rest, while Aragorn and Arryn were preparing to investigate the nearby lands, with a small hope to be able to catch something for dinner for the 6 of them. Aragorn opened one of the bags, and he took out 4 small swords, and he handed them to the 4 Hobbits. Arryn began to think; maybe it was just her, and she was sensing something far away.
“Keep them close. We’re going to look around.” Aragorn instructed.
“Do not make a fire, it may attract attention, and that is not really what we want know, at this time of night…Stay here” She said, absentmindedly.
She and Aragorn left the Halflings, and they split up. Arryn took the bottom half, and Aragorn the top. Arryn looked around, and she found nothing, which she found extremely odd. She could feel the strange shiver go up her spine. Something was near, she pushed it out of her mind, and she decided to go look for her brother, maybe he had more luck than she. Before she could find him, she heard the shriek of a Nazgûl, and the terrified screams of the hobbits. She ran back, as fast as her legs could carry her. When she arrived to the top, she hoped to find her friends, but instead she found a burning fire. She watched in horror, as she saw a Nazgûl stab Frodo.
“No!” She cried. The Nazgûl turned to face her, and she felt that shiver run through her. She stared back into the faceless creature. He was the Witch King of Angmar. He had this vibe about him. He was frightening, but he somehow felt familiar to her. She shook her head, bringing her back to the present. The Witch King was about to attack her, she avoided it, and she ran and stood protectively in front of Frodo. She remembered the fire, and she held her hand out towards the fire. The Witch King ran over to her, his blade raised. She began to sweat.
“Come on. Come on! Please work!” She thought. The Witch King was about to stab her in the chest…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Finally, at the last moment, just he was about to bring his blade in contact with her, a flaming torch flew into her waiting hand, and she brought it through its chest. It shrieked, and he ran towards the edge, and she was not sure if he fell or not. Before she had time to think, she was attacked by another. She swung the flaming torch, and her sword together, and she lit it on fire. It also turned and ran to the edge.
She felt something cold and sharp enter at her shoulder, and she felt woozy. She pushed the pain out of her head, and she threw her torch in the hood of the beast. It shrieked, and he fell off the hill. She turned her attention back to Frodo, and she and Aragorn ran over to him. Arryn looked at his wound, and she felt terrible, and she touched the side of his every growing cold face. Aragorn picked up the blade.
“He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade…” The blade turned to ash.
“This is beyond my skill to heal…” Arryn said, as she grabbed her shoulder. Aragorn noticed, and he inched away the clothing from her shoulder. Sure enough, she had the same wound on her shoulder, as Frodo did at his side.
“I’m…..fine.” She lied.
“He needs Elvish medicine…” She added.
Aragorn picked Frodo up, and he carried them down the hill. As Arryn and the other Hobbits descended, she let out a soft four tone whistle, and she heard the soft neigh of Aaliyah. Aragorn put Frodo on Aaliyah’s back, and he made Arryn sit behind him, for she could not run as well as she used to. In the distance, they could hear the cries of the Nine Riders.
“Hurry!”
“We’re six days from Rivendell! We’ll never make it!”
Arryn argued, but she didn’t have the strength to continue.
“Hold on, Frodo.”
“Please, hold on Frodo.”