Silverhelm: A Tale of Two Enemies

Frodo Gets Stabbed Because Of Stupidity

The sun's rays were yet to illuminate the sky when we woke the hobbits. They were very surprised to find they had slept through all of that and confused about why I was there until Aragorn told them the whole story. At once we began the day's march.

We had been walking for two days when we left the marshes behind. I had passed the time by narrating my adventures to the two younger hobbits, Merry and Pippin, who were immensely interested in such matters, and impressed that I, a woman, could fight so well. When Pippin made this comment, I shared a look with Aragorn, both of us remembering the orc ambush.

We saw a hill ahead, arising out of the plains. Finally, a change in scenery.

"That is Weathertop," Aragorn said. No, not Aragorn, Strider. He had told me to call him Strider because that is what the hobbits called him, and he didn't want to tell them who he was just yet. "We will reach it by nightfall if we make a good time."

"It was once the watchtower of Amon Sul," I said reverently. My human ancestors, on my father's side, were from the great kingdom of Arnor.

Soon we reached the watchtower and proceeded to climb it. It was completely abandoned and was falling into disrepair. Night had fallen, and the hobbits were settling down for a good night's rest. Little did they know what was to come.

"Get some sleep," Strider ordered the hobbits. "We leave at daybreak tomorrow. Lyrasael and I will have a look around." I followed him, pulling my bow off my shoulder. We surveyed the surrounding area, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Strider was pushing some brush aside, making a general ruckus, when I heard it. I high-pitched screech, coming from the direction of Amon Sul. I tilted my head towards the sound. No hobbit could make such a noise.

"Strider!" I hissed. he grunted but did not respond, and continued trying to push aside a branch while holding another back too. He hadn't heard the cry. "Aragorn!" I said louder. He stopped, then cocked his head towards the sound.

"The Halflings!" he cried. I but my bow on my shoulder again. We simultaneously drew our swords, Narsil and Nahtar (though Narsil was broken... Ha!) and charged towards the Amon Sul.

There we found that the hobbits, all of which had drawn their swords, were cornered by Nazgul. Strider and I picked up a burning branch from the fire and charged at the Ringwraiths. As we hacked and slashed, one of the Nazgul's swords cut me across the ribs. Though it was a shallow cut, it hurt like Mordor, but the pain lent me strength. With a cry of fury, I backhanded the Nazgul with my torch, setting it on fire and knocking it off the tower.

As I looked over to the hobbits, I saw that Frodo had used his ring to make himself disappear. I cursed silently. Fool of a hobbit! Did he not realize that that would draw them to him?

"Frodo!" I cried out in warning, but too late. A Rider had stabbed him with a Morgul-blade. It looked like the pain from his wound lent him strength, too. With a cry of "Elbereth", he thrust his Barrow-sword into the Rider. The Rider stumbled back, and I slashed it with my sword, knocking it off the battlement. As I did that, I looked at Frodo. The hobbits had converged upon him, and he was obviously in pain, but that would have to wait. As Strider fought with two Nazgul at once, another came up behind him, raising its sword to strike.

Thinking quickly, I threw my burning branch at the third Rider, whose cloak caught on fire. As it ran about, it knocked one of the Riders Strider was fighting, over the tower, then fell off as well. His other foe taken care of, Strider easily pushed the last Nazgul off the battlements. While they seemingly plummeted to their doom, that was not the last time we dealt with those fell servants of Sauron.