The morning sun fought to break through the mist, casting a soft glow over the forest as Arwen and (Y/n) rode at a breakneck pace, the trees a blur around them. The wind whipped their hair, the sound of hooves pounding against the earth in an urgent rhythm. Frodo's pale body lay slumped in front of Arwen, his breaths shallow, his skin clammy with the darkness of the Nazgûl's poison.
The air was thick with dread, and (Y/n) could feel it pressing down on her chest, a weight of ancient malice clawing at the edges of her consciousness. The Nazgûl were close, too close. She could sense their twisted presence, their blackened spirits hungry for the One Ring.
Her sharp gaze flicked to Arwen, who kept her focus on the path ahead. The determination in Arwen's face mirrored her own, but (Y/n) could see the flicker of fear in her eyes. This was no simple chase—this was a race against death.
Suddenly, from the shadows of the pine forest, two Ringwraiths emerged, their black horses galloping with inhuman speed. (Y/n)'s heart leapt as she glanced back to see two more of the dark figures sliding in from different directions, their cloaks billowing like smoke in the wind. Arwen urged Asfaloth faster, but even as the white horse sped ahead, more Ringwraiths appeared, closing in from all sides. Their shrieks filled the air, cold and piercing like shards of ice cutting through the morning air.
"Arwen, keep riding!" (Y/n) shouted, her voice strong despite the pounding fear. "Do not stop for anything!"
Arwen nodded, her face set with grim determination. "Noro lim, Asfaloth!" she cried, pushing her horse to its limits. The white steed responded, galloping faster than ever, but the Nine Ringwraiths were relentless.
As they burst from the cover of the trees, the sight of the river Bruinen came into view, the wide expanse of water glimmering ahead of them. Without hesitation, Arwen urged Asfaloth into the river, the horse leaping into the shallow water and charging across the ford.
The wraiths pulled up short at the edge of the water, their horses whinnying nervously. For a moment, there was silence, the only sound the rushing of the river and the heavy breathing of the two women and Frodo.
Arwen reached the other side and pulled her horse to a halt, her chest heaving with adrenaline. She turned, her sword drawn, and faced the Ringwraiths with defiance. Behind her, (Y/n) brought Hades to a stop as well, her hand on the hilt of her blade, her eyes blazing with determination.
The leader of the wraiths, the Witch-king, stepped forward, his dark voice cutting through the air like a deathly whisper. "Give up the Halfling, she-elf," he hissed.
Arwen's grip on her sword tightened as she glared at the wraith. "If you want him, come and claim him!" she shouted back, her voice fierce and unwavering.
The Witch-king screeched, his anger palpable as he drew his sword and led the Nazgûl into the river. As they began crossing, (Y/n) felt the familiar pull of darkness surround them, their malevolence like a storm pressing in.
But (Y/n) was not afraid.
Her eyes narrowed, and she urged Hades closer to Arwen and Frodo. The Ringwraiths were almost upon them, their twisted forms blacker than night itself. In a low, steady voice, (Y/n) began to chant, her words ancient and powerful, barely audible to anyone but herself and the forces she was calling upon.
With a sudden burst of energy, a ring of fire erupted around them, the flames flickering with a life of their own, forming a barrier between the wraiths and their prey. The fire crackled and roared, keeping the Nazgûl at bay, and even Arwen glanced in surprise at the fierce display of (Y/n)'s power.
"(Y/n)... what have you done?" Arwen asked in awe, her voice breathless.
"Keeping them at bay until we cross," (Y/n) replied, her voice strained from the effort it took to maintain the spell.
As the wraiths recoiled from the flames, (Y/n) felt something stir within her—an old connection to the shadow she had once served. The Nazgûl shrieked in frustration, their black horses rearing back, unable to pass through the protective fire. But (Y/n) could feel the strain of the spell, the darkness pushing back against her, testing her strength.
Frodo moaned in pain, his body trembling as the poison continued to ravage his fragile form. His life force was slipping away, and (Y/n) knew there wasn't much time.
"I cannot hold this much longer!" she shouted, her voice tight with effort. "We need to cross the river!"
Arwen, her face pale with worry for Frodo, nodded and raised her arms, calling upon the river's power. Her voice echoed through the air, her Elvish words carrying with them a command that sent a tremor through the earth itself.
"Non o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer: Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer!" she cried, her voice filled with urgency.
The ground trembled, and (Y/n) felt the shift of the earth beneath her. From the far distance, a distant roar filled the air as the river began to rise. The sound grew louder and louder until the water itself surged forward, a mighty torrent crashing toward the ford. The water took the form of great, foaming white horses, their manes billowing like the waves of a storm.
The wraiths screamed in terror as the river engulfed them, swallowing them whole in a swirling cascade of water and power. Their piercing cries were drowned out by the thunderous roar of the river as it carried them away, disappearing into the depths.
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of the rushing water. But Frodo was still pale and trembling, his breath shallow, his life slipping away.
Arwen, her face stricken with fear, cradled him in her arms. "No... no, Frodo, no!" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Frodo, don't give in... not now!"
(Y/n), sensing that time was running out, rode closer, her heart heavy with the knowledge that Frodo was teetering on the edge of death. She dismounted Hades and knelt beside him, placing her hands gently on his chest.
"Come on Frodo," (Y/n) said, her voice steady but filled with tension.
(Y/n) closed her eyes and began to murmur softly, her hands glowing with a faint, ethereal light. She reached into the shadow that had infected Frodo, absorbing some of the darkness into herself. The poison, vile and corrupt, burned as it seeped into her, but she didn't falter.
Arwen watched in awe and horror as (Y/n) absorbed the darkness. "You are taking it into yourself... but why?"
(Y/n) opened her eyes, her face pale but resolute. "To give him enough life to reach Rivendell," she whispered, her strength weakening with every passing second. "But it will only be temporary... only Elrond can save him fully."
As the last tendrils of shadow left Frodo's body, (Y/n) felt the pain course through her, a deep ache spreading through her veins. She gasped, her body trembling from the effort, but she remained upright, determined not to show weakness.
Frodo's breathing slowed, his color returning just enough for Arwen to see that he was no longer at death's door.
Arwen looked at (Y/n) with a mixture of awe and gratitude. "You've saved him," she whispered, tears in her eyes.
"For now," (Y/n) replied, her voice hoarse from the strain. "But we must get him to your father... before it's too late."
Together, they mounted their horses again, the danger behind them for the moment, but the weight of the battle still clinging to them. As they rode, (Y/n) felt the lingering shadow of the Nazgûl's poison within her, knowing it was only a matter of time before it took its toll.
But for now, Frodo was safe. And that was all that mattered.
YOU ARE READING
Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}
Fanfiction(Y/n) or The Lonely Dragon, a name that was known across Middle Earth. Feared....admired.....worshipped All she wanted was to be normal, but that wasn't the case. She was made to be a weapon of war, the spawn of Sauron himself. His plan B if the Rin...
