“Aragorn?”
The single word echoed around the cave as he smiled at me. My lips pulled into a wide grin as we looked at each other.
“Rana.”
My smile became wider as he spoke my name and held his arms out. I ran towards him and threw my arms around his neck, crushing him in a hug. He laughed and hugged me back, before lifting me by my waist and spinning me around – like he always did when we had been parted for a long time. I felt giddy with happiness and was still laughing when he set me back on my feet.
“Im gelir ceni ad lín.” (I am happy to see you again) I murmured softly, gazing into his stormy grey eyes. “I missed you.”
“I missed you also,” He replied, hugging me again, “There was never a day when you were not in my thoughts.”
I smiled, feeling like I could explode with happiness. There was no place I would rather be, than here, in the arms of my closest friend.
We stood for a few minutes, before I looked up at him.
“I was tracking you up until several years ago, where did you go?” I asked quietly, releasing myself from his embrace. He ducked his head and sighed.
“I was travelling, with Gandalf. We were searching for the creature, Gollum.”
“Gollum?” I repeated the harsh word curiously.
“Yes, he is a creature that was previously in possession of The One Ring.” He murmured.
“The Ring? But it was lost!” I cried, suddenly fearful. Aragorn shook his head sadly.
“It was found. And I fear that we may have realised it too late. I pray that there is still time.”
“Do we know where the ring is now?” I asked. He nodded slowly. “Where?” I whispered.
“It’s here, in Rivendell.”
My eyes widened and I felt pure, unaltered fear rising up inside me.
“What must we do?” I kept my voice low, trying to remain calm.
“A council will be held soon, to decide the fate of the Ring, as soon as Frodo is awake.” He replied.
“Frodo?” I frowned, “The nephew of Bilbo Baggins?” I had known the old hobbit for many years, but it had been some time since I had seen him. I had never met his nephew. Aragorn nodded, confirming what I had just said. Hundreds of questions threatened to burst from my lips, but I finally settled on the obvious one.
“What is the matter with Frodo?”
Aragorn’s face fell and he sighed, running one hand through his matted hair. He held out his hand and I took it.
“Come, I’ll show you.”
***
Aragorn lead me into a bright, airy room. The walls glowed crimson as they reflected the light of the setting sun. I looked over at the large bed. A Hobbit lay there. His face was drawn and pale, and he wore a loose, white shirt. I walked over to his bedside and stood over him; brushing back his thick, dark curls I could see he was deeply asleep. All around me I could smell the sweet scent of athelas, a commonly used healing herb. I turned to Aragorn.
“What happened to him?” I murmured. He walked to my side and pulled back the neckline of Frodo’s shirt. I gasped quietly at the sight of the deep, ugly wound, just below the hobbit’s shoulder.
