9 - A Major Setback
Those Wraiths were persistent, I had to admit it.
Dreading that the Wraiths were actually here in the dead of night and I wasn't hearing things, I forced myself to join Frodo. I heard someone gasp behind us.
There, walking through the fog, were five Wraiths, cloaked in black. This was ten times more dangerous, having five find us instead of one. They have one for each of us. Whether that was planned or by chance, I wasn't sure.
"Go!" Frodo urged, whipping out his sword. I dashed back to retrieve mine as the boys pulled theirs out.
Where had the boys gone? They had just been here not a minute ago! They were quick to run from trouble. There was no way that I was being left alone to defend myself!
I whimpered, turning three-sixty until I found a stairwell. It seemed to be the only place they'd go if they were trying to get away. I didn't look back as I skittered to the top of the watchtower. I reached the boys, who were looking around in the darkness anxiously. I jumped into the group, holding my semi-heavy sword.
The wind picked up, the temperature plummeted.
We formed a tight circle, surveying the top of the watchtower. Moonlight bathed us all. I noticed that parts of the watchtower had crumbled and acted like debris across the ground. Maybe if the debris was light, we could throw it at the Wraiths. Then again...maybe that wasn't a smart idea.
I kind of wished for the fire now—maybe Wraiths feared fire. If it could attract them, maybe it could fend them off too.
I felt like I was being pushed into the circle of boys more than standing alongside them. I knew they were concerned for me, but it was kind of ridiculous. I wasn't the one that needed the most protection, Frodo did. He had the Ring. If anything, he should be the one being pushed into the middle of the circle.
My heart quickened. We weren't ready to take on Wraiths. We had no experience with sword fighting. The only advantage we had was most likely luck...if we even had that.
Where was Strider when we needed him?
Speaking of the Man, he was nowhere in sight. I knew he couldn't be trusted! Now is not the time to gloat to Frodo. Do so after you survive this. Taking a look around for Strider meant he sold us out to the Wraiths.
Being here almost defenseless proved that we couldn't trust strangers.
My breath hitched in my throat when I saw darkness move. I tried to take a half step back. Even without its horse, the Wraith was massive and intimidating. An armored hand reached for the hilt of its sword, pulling it out of its carrier.
My eyes scanned the area. The Wraith's four other companions decided to join the party. My mind told me to run away, but my body told me to stay here and take a stand—though it sounded stupid.
Remember, keep Frodo safe. They want the Ring, they can't have it.
The five Wraiths—all swords out, pointed towards us—converged. I wanted to act, but my mind kept me from doing so. Instead, Sam was the first to act.
"Back, you devils!" he barked.
Sam clashed swords with only two of the Wraiths. He gave me a short burst of courage to dive into the fray. Pippin, Merry, and Frodo stayed back. Sam was tossed aside. I tried my hardest but was grabbed harshly and thrown the opposite way Sam had been thrown. I rolled along the cold brick ground. My sword slipped through my hand, scooting a few feet away from me.
I crawled to it only to be smashed into by Pippin. The armored feet clanked across the ground, diverting my attention to them. My eyes bulged.
Frodo was exposed, Merry had been tossed away from him. The Wraiths were herding my adoptive brother backwards. Panicking, Frodo dropped the sword, tripping himself. He scooted along the ground. One Wraith stepped out from the group, ready to finish him off.
My heart leapt into my throat when Frodo suddenly vanished. Damn it!
A loud battle cry in the night made me jump.
So maybe it was wrong to assume that Strider told the Wraiths where we were. He had saved our lives back in Bree, and now he was saving our lives here in the watchtower.
Strider burst into the picture, a sword in one hand, a lit torch in the other. I forgot about my sword, trying to get Pippin on his feet. He was a little dazed still. I watched in horror as Strider challenged the five Wraiths. That wasn't a much better matchup than five Hobbits against them.
Frodo's cry made me seek him. He had taken off the Ring, but he looked like he was in serious pain. Forgetting the slight bleeding on my forearms, I sprinted to him.
"Frodo!" Sam cried. I was the first to get to Frodo, Sam next. Merry and Pippin followed. Frodo whimpered.
"What's wrong with him?" Pippin panicked.
"I wish I knew," I stammered, putting Frodo's head in my lap. I kept crooning and hushing him, though my tone wasn't very convincing—my voice quivered a lot.
None of us Hobbits dared to interfere with Strider's rescue mission, he seemed to have a handle on the situation.
The two flaming Wraiths ran off. I didn't see two more, so only one remained—and it was heading right for us. Frodo cried out, I quaked at the sight of the black figure heading for us.
Strider never missed a thing. He flung the torch at the Wraith, smacking it right in its face, or whatever was under its hood. Flames consumed the Wraith, causing it to flee. Strider paced around, making sure that there were no Wraiths hiding.
Maybe he's someone to trust after all.
My thoughts strayed to Frodo when I felt him convulse once under me.
"Strider!" I cried desperately. He ran to our little group. "Help him, please."
Strider picked up a blade—one of the Wraiths'. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," he said gravely. The blade disintegrated, as if it never existed.
"What does that mean?" I fretted.
"It means that this is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."
Strider snatched Frodo in his arms, Frodo howled in pain. The rest of us quickly gathered our things, leaving the watchtower, following Strider. Tears blurred my vision. Frodo couldn't leave us like this.
Strider kept Frodo slung over his shoulder, a torch in hand. We crashed into a patch of forest. Sam kept up with the pony. From afar, the Wraiths' screeches followed us.
"Hurry!" Strider called, looking over his shoulder at us. Whatever hit us, whether plants or branches, we knocked them aside. I didn't care that my forearms stung from being exposed to the night air, or that my feet were screaming to stop.
"We're six days from Rivendell," Sam yelled. "He'll never make it!"
We had no choice but to take a rest in the middle of the forest. We took what cover we could in brush and near some rock formations. Strider made Merry and Pippin have homemade torches so that there was more than one light to shine. Sam went to tie the pony up while I stayed near Frodo. I held him in my arms.
He didn't look like he was getting better. His eyes were an unnatural light, bright blue. His skin was paling. It broke my heart to see him this way. I ran my fingers through his hair, stopping to feel his forehead.
"Frodo?" I whimpered. I felt his forehead longer. "He's going cold." I looked to see Strider scouting ahead of him. "We've got to do something!"
"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked. I dreaded the answer as much as he did.
"He's passing into the Shadow World," Strider murmured solemnly. "He'll soon become a Wraith, like them."
"That can't happen!" I panicked, holding Frodo closer to me. "There's got to be a way to save him. We've got to keep him alive, Strider. There has to be a way."
I shivered when hearing another unusual noise. My breaths shook.
"They're close," Merry muttered.
"Sam," Strider said, "do you now the Atheleas plant?"
"Atheleas?" Sam asked, confused.
"Kingsfoil."
"Kingsfoil, aye, it's a weed."
"It may help slow the poisoning. Hurry!"
Sam and Strider fled from our temporary camping site, leaving me with Merry and Pippin. I blinked back tears. I wanted to do something—anything—that to help Frodo.
The only thing I could do was try and soothe him with words and my embrace.
The time that Sam and Strider were gone was unbearably long. Time was passing quickly for Frodo. Would he die in my arms before Sam or Strider came back with that plant?
Stay positive. If the situation was in reverse, Frodo would be doing the same for you.
After a while, my legs were stiff from sitting on the forest floor. I gently laid Frodo on his back, reluctant to go far from him. I grabbed my sword, throwing the holster around my waist. Merry and Pippin were on guard duty. For the fools I knew them to be, they had hardened over these past few days. Neither had joked around much since joining Sam, Frodo, and me. It was eerie, seeing a serious side to them.
"They aren't back yet?" I whispered, standing beside Merry. He was closest to Frodo, so I stuck near him. I wanted someone to talk to. I figured it could help my anxiety, but any noise from Frodo made it spike right back up.
"No," Merry reported.
"Do you think something happened?"
"I hope not."
I glanced over my shoulder at Frodo quickly. "If they can't find that plant, Frodo won't make it."
"They'll find it, Marlena." Merry grabbed my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Someone's coming!" Pippin cried.
I left Merry's side to hover near Frodo, my hand ready to whip out my sword. Merry and Pippin backed up to be behind me, ready to assist.
My muscles relaxed when Sam burst through the bushes.
"Did you find the plant?" I blurted.
"No," he groaned. "Has Strider had any luck?"
"He hasn't come back." I felt Frodo's head. He was getting even colder, like ice. "I thought he was with you?"
"We split up to look for the weed."
"Do you think something happened to him?" Pippin asked.
"We would've heard something." Sam looked down at Frodo. "He's not getting better?"
"Worse," I moaned. "Unless Strider comes back with that plant, we can't do anything for him."
"Marlena," Pippin said. "Your arms..."
"I know they're bleeding, Pip. They can be taken care of later."
The steady beat of hooves made us Hobbits—except for Frodo—look ahead. Sam joined Pippin and Merry behind me. Strider hadn't taken the pony along with him, so it had to be a Wraith. Did it think that we wouldn't hear its horse's hooves hit the earth?
"Get ready," I murmured, crouching near Frodo, who was whimpering in pain. I'm not afraid of them. Those Wraiths are going to understand what happens when they hurt my family.
Thankfully, when the figure came into view, I was glad to accept that my assumption was wrong.