Rangers of the North (Aragorn)

Chapter Four: Athelas

Averael paced nervously. They had carried Frodo a little further into a better place of shelter, and Sam looked around. She looked too, and saw three massive stone trolls surrounding them, frozen by the sun long ago.

"Look Mr. Frodo, it's Mr. Bilbo's trolls!" Sam told the weak Frodo in hopes of trying to get a reaction. Frodo just turned his head to the side limply and gasped for breath. His eyes were foggy and pale. Sam felt his forehead.

"He's going cold!" He told Strider. Averael knelt next to Frodo and felt his forehead as well. His skin felt like ice. She drew her hand away, and took off her own cloak, wrapping it tight around Frodo to try and warm him. Strider looked around, holding a torch, standing above everyone else. Pippin looked crestfallen.

"Is he going to die?" He asked Averael. She looked down. She had seen this happen before, twice. Both times, the victim had been lost. They had became wraiths and sent to Mordor. She didn't know where they were now. The memories were old but vivid, and she feared for Frodo's life.

"He's passing into the shadow world. He'll soon become a wraith like them." Strider answered when Averael failed to speak. Strider called her name a moment later. She looked up and saw him beckoning. Standing, she followed him to a spot behind one of the trolls.

"You've seen this before, haven't you?" He pointed out. It was more a statement than a question. Averael didn't look him in the eyes.

"I once knew two people stabbed by the same kind of blade. Both were lost to the Wraiths." She answered quietly, emotion flooding her chest. 

"You knew them well?"

"My parents." Averael answered, her voice cracking. "When I was young, we were attacked by those Wraiths. My father told me to run as far and as fast as I could. I did. The next time I saw them, they were like Frodo." She sniffed. "There was nothing we could do. A friend of my parents took me in and raised me, but still..." She stopped. A tear fell from her cheek. 

"How old were you?" Strider asked.

"Eight." She choked out. It had been 73 years, but not one detail was missing. She felt a comforting arm around her and she sniffed, wiping the tears away. A screech tore through the air. Strider withdrew his arm and hurried to the hobbits. Averael followed, trying to manage a normal worried face so she didn't worry the hobbits more than they already were. 

"They're close!" Merry said.

"Sam! Do you know the Athelas plant?" Strider asked hurriedly.

"Athelas?"

"Kingsfoil."

A look of recognition crossed his face. "Kingsfoil. Aye, it's a weed." He said.

"It may help to slow the poison. Hurry!" Strider said. The two ran through the woodland, looking for the plant. Averael stayed with the hobbits, waiting impatiently. She heard a horse behind her and turned. There was a white horse, its rider dismounting, hurrying to Frodo. Strider followed behind.

"Frodo Im Arwen. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nin. Tolo dan na galad (I am Arwen. I have come to help you. Hear my voice. Come back to the light)" she said. Averael's Elvish was broken, but she understood enough to know that this Elven maiden would help. Frodo gasped again, eyes wide. He sounded like he was hardly getting enough air. 

"Who is she?" Merry wondered aloud. Strider walked over to Frodo, chewing some Athelas. Arwen mopped Frodo's brow. 

"She's an Elf!" Sam exclaimed. Averael joined them near Frodo.

"He's fading." Arwen said. Averael turned her head away. She couldn't bear to see another person fall like this. Strider pressed the chewed Athelas on Frodo's wound. The hobbit gasped in renewed pain. 

"He's not going to last. We must get him to my father." Arwen said. Strider carried Frodo over to Arwen's horse. "I've been looking for you for two days. There are five Wraiths behind you, where the other four are, I do not know." 

Strider grabbed the horse's bridle. "Dartho guin perian. Rych le ad tolthathon. (Stay with the hobbits. I will send horses back for you.)" he said.

"Hon mabathon. Rochon ellint im. (I'm the faster rider. I'll take him.)" Arwen argued.
"Andelu i ven. (The road is too dangerous)"

"What are they saying?" Pippin asked. Averael shushed him, trying to piece together their words as fast as she could. She decided that her Elvish needed some polishing. 

"Frodo fîr. Ae athradon i hir, tur gwaith nin beriatha hon. (Frodo's dying. If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect him.) I do not fear them." She climbed onto her horse behind Frodo. He flopped over and the Elf had to support the fading hobbit. 

"Be iest lîn. (As you wish.)" Strider grabbed her hand, but she pulled it away roughly. 

"Ride hard, don't look back." He said, looking down and turning. Arwen kicked her horse into a gallop without another word. They sped away towards Rivendell. Averael could see the same look in Strider's face as the night in the marshes. She stepped over to him.

"Something's wrong." She said.

"It's nothing." Strider said again, turning away from her. 

"Yes, there is, I know it." She said. "You can tell me. I trusted you with something that has haunted me for years." She stammered, remembering the traumatic event once again. It wasn't something she thought of often. He looked at her, sighing slightly. 

"I lost my father when I was two years old. My mother Gilraen took me to Rivendell and put me under the care of Lord Elrond." He looked down. "I only saw her once after that, and then she died. I remember the first time I ever saw Arwen." He continued. "She'd returned from Lothlorien after visiting her grandmother. I fell in love, but she has her heart set on another elf."

"I'm sorry," Averael had no idea. He knew what it was like to lose both parents. 

"No matter." He said, standing straight and brushing the topic aside. He walked to the hobbits, who had been attempting to light a fire. He started the fire quickly, then went off to hunt.