Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Thirteen - The Ringwraiths

Word Count: 2,532 words. 

Warnings: None. 

"Is he important?" Aragorn asked the elf beside him, leaning closer after her decision to help the small creatures.

Arathiel turned to look at him. "The Hobbit himself is not necessarily of any great importance but he carries the Ring and I simply know that Mithrandir has tasked him with carrying it," – she sighed – "Such a heavy burden for a such a small thing."

She was looking at the Hobbit again. Frodo Baggins. She could see the family resemblance to Bilbo but rather thought that he was more like Rose. That worried the she-elf. Bilbo was stubborn but practical in his ways, as Hobbits often were, but Rose... She could be reckless. Reckless enough to get herself and others hurt. It was a wonder no one ended up dead on their travels to the Lonely Mountain. The hope was the Frodo didn't follow in his aunt's footsteps, but hope was often futile in times like these.

Strider looked at the people in the Inn for a moment. "Where is Gandalf?"

She shook her head. "I sense that he told them to meet him here," – she looked at her companion again – "but I also sense that Mithrandir will not make it."

"Has he been killed?"

Arathiel shook her head. "No, but he has been taken by some great evil. I cannot contact him."

"Baggins?" a shrill voice exclaimed and simultaneously, the two figures hidden in the corner turned back to the crowds. "Sure I know a Baggins."

"Pippin," Arathiel muttered. "He's a friend of Frodo's. He's going to reveal him to any of Sauron's followers in this room."

"You think that he has followers in here?" Aragorn asked, hands pushing against the back of the chair as if to move. Arathiel was in a similar position.

"I can feel darkness and not just from the Ring."

"He's over there," Pippin told the stranger, pointing to the table where the other Hobbits had settled with their drinks. "Frodo Baggins. He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side... and my third cousin... twice removed..."

Frodo jumped suddenly from the table and rushed towards the bar where Pippin sat, talking to the Innkeeper. "Pippin!" he screamed.

Baggins pushed against him. "Steady on Frodo," Pippin warned.

The Hobbit stumbled backwards, foot tripping on a man's boot. Arathiel gasped lightly when she noticed the glint of gold in the air as he fell. The Ring turned in circles as Frodo reached for it. As his back hit the cold ground of the Inn, the Ring slid onto his finger and he disappeared from view.

The elf stood up from her seat, a sharp pain in her side. Where the wound was. Aragorn placed a hand on Arathiel's arm. "What is it?" he asked, worried.

His eyes wide at what had happened to Frodo, his gaze flickered back and forth between the elf and where the Hobbit had disappeared.

"The Nazgul," she breathed, feeling them approach. "They can sense the Ring. They're coming for him."

That wasn't the only thing that she could feel. The strength of the Ring was calling to her. The darkness begging her to be consumed. Whispers filled her mind. Whispers of his words and his promises.

With a sudden jolt, the pain was gone and looking up, both Arathiel and Aragorn could see Frodo crawling along the ground towards them. She rushed forward, taking his arm more harshly that she intended too and turning him to face her.