The Tenth Companion

Chapter One: The Unexpected Arrival

It was noonday in Rivendell, the sun sat high in the sky, and I was sitting in the courtyard, my hood pulled up as usual and growing restless. My sister had set off on her horse earlier and has not returned. Where she had gone, I did not know, she had left without a word to me.

I did not have to worry much longer. The sound of hoofs beating against the cobblestone resounded in the courtyard I was sitting in. I looked up from my book and found her elder sister atop a horse with what seemed to be a young child in her arms. She was thundering towards her young sister, urgency in her eyes.

"What is it Arwen?" I asked for I was worried about what might have happened to her. I felt a dark presence with her as if she brought something truly evil onto our lands.

"Astora, the Hobbit has been stabbed with a Morgul blade. Fetch Ada, and hurry." Arwen, my elder sister, urgently commanded me. I recognized the presence now, it was the One Ring, and the injured hobbit ha sir with him. He carried a great burden.

I picked up my rarely worn skirts and ran to our ada's study, completely forgetting my book. A Morgul blade was a dark blade, if not treated probably in time, the victim would turn into a ringwraith, wielders of the blade. It worried me that Arwen has a victim of their wrath, but I could not dwell on that now. The little hobbit will soon leave the light, I cannot let that happen.

I ran through our home and burst through the doors of my father's study. He was pouring over maps again, but he looked up when I threw the doors open.

"Astora, what is it, my child?" My father, Lord Elrond, asked as he saw my worried face.

"It is Arwen, she has brought a hobbit, he holds the One Ring, but he's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," I informed him.

"Bring me to him, quickly." I led my ada back into the courtyard, where Arwen was pressing some kingsfoil into the hobbits shoulder wound.

"Astora, grab my herbs, hurry. And set up a room for the hobbit." I ran to the infirmary and grabbed some herbs, then to an empty room where I set up a place for the Hobbit and my father to work. Ada and Arwen came in soon after and placed the hobbit onto the bed. He looked sickly.

His face was pale with a greenish tint, his eyes were open, but glazed over. I could see his wound now, in his shoulder. IT was dark green and pulsing with what seemed like dark energy. The Hobbit was in serious danger.

"Leave, my daughters. I must work alone." Arwen and I took our exit at our father's words.

"Arwen, why in Middle Earth did you have a victim of the Ringwraiths'?" I asked her, no longer able to hold myself back.

"Relax, sister, I am fine. Aragon just ran into some trouble while escorting the hobbits here." She answered calmly, beginning to walk to her room. I glanced over at her and noticed a scratch on her cheek.

"What was Aragorn doing with a hobbit that holds the One Ring?" I whispered fiercely to her, keeping my voice down to avoid eavesdroppers.

"Gandalf sent him to bring the hobbits here. Ada plans to hold a council to decide its fate." Arwen explained as we turned another corner of our beautiful home.

"Where is Gandalf?" I pondered. I worried about him. He can care for himself, but he can also get himself in so much trouble.

"I do not know. There has been no news from him as of late." We were now outside Arwen's door, but she had paused to answer my question.

"Go, sister, you are a mess." I smiled at her disheveled hair and rumpled clothes. It was rare to see Arwen in such a state.

"I will, but please, will you tell Bilbo of his nephews arrival?"

"Is his nephew the one father is tending to?"

"It is."

"Then I will. Have a good day." I gave a little nod of farewell to my sister, then turned to go find our hobbit guest. Bilbo had been to Rivendell before, about 60 years before. He was old now, but he was well enough to have made the journey from the Shire to my home by himself. Hobbits truly are hardy folk.

I found Bilbo out on a patio overlooking one of our incredible gardens, one of my favorite gardens actually. He was writing in his book again with a blanket draped over his shoulders, like always. He had told me when he first arrived, "I want to finish it before I'm dead?" And finish it, I believe he will, he was on the last few pages after all.

"Ah, Astora my dear. What brings you to me?" Bilbo patted the seat next to him on the bench, inviting me to sit and I did.

"It is your nephew. He has arrived at Rivendell, but I fear he is injured." I explained to him in a gentle manner.

"Frodo? He's come, that's my boy. I'm sure he'll be alright, Astora. Though we may not look it, we hobbits are tough." Bilbo chuckled. He didn't seem the least bit worried, and neither should I if father was tending to him. Ada will heal the wound, but the poor hobbit would carry the scar forever.