The Shape of Shadows [2]

The Journey to Rivendell

They departed from Bree at the break of dawn the next day. Aragorn bought a horse from a man in the village and they loaded the bags onto it to allow them to move faster. Aragorn and Amara walked together at the front of the company speaking in hushed elvish, so as not to worry the hobbits, about what may happen as a direct result of what they were currently doing. The hobbits were mainly silent until Frodo could not contain his curiosity further.

"Where are you taking us?" Frodo asked coming to a stop.

"Into the wild." Aragorn replied without missing a step.

The hobbits shared uneasy glances before following.

Amara dropped back slightly. "We are going to Rivendell. To the house of my father, Lord Elrond."

"Did you hear that? Rivendell. We're going to see the elves." Sam said excitedly.

After they had been walking for a few hours, Aragorn and Amara turned around to find the hobbits stopping and beginning to unpack the cooking supplies.

"Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall!" Aragorn called.

"What about breakfast?" Pippin asked.

Aragorn shot him a look of confusion before glancing quickly at Amara. "You've already had it."

"We've had one yes. What about second breakfast?" Pippin said matter-of-factly.

Aragorn and Amara shared a look before continuing on walking.

"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip." Merry said, shouldering his pack.

"What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper?" Pippin said his voice growing increasingly worried. "He knows about them, doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't count on it." Merry said as an apple came flying over the hedge. Merry caught it and handed it to Pippin.

They continued on foot, coming in contact with all of the elements. The hobbit's wondered why Amara never raised her hood so she had to explain to them that if she was to do so, she would vanish. The land became more treacherous as they crossed into the marshland. Amara and Aragorn moved with ease but the hobbits were struggling to stand and getting eaten alive by flies and midges. More than once, Amara or Aragorn had to pull them out of a particularly deep bog hole.

After a week and a half, they reached the old fortress at Weathertop. It sat in ruins atop a barren hill.

"This was the great watchtower of Amon Sûl." Aragorn informed the hobbits as he came to a stop, looking up at the ruins. "We shall rest here tonight."

They set up camp underneath the ruins on a rocky outcrop that was sheltered from whatever weather may choose to present itself during the night. The hobbits quickly dropped their bags and dropped to the floor, exhausted.

Amara turned to Aragorn. "We should have a look around." She muttered, her thoughts in the goblin caves of the misty mountain when she had been travelling with the dwarves. She was unwilling to be caught off guard again.

Aragorn nodded before turning and pulling a roll of fabric from his bag. He rolled it out in front of the hobbits to reveal four short swords. "These are for you. Keep them close." He threw them all a sword. "We are going to have a look around." The hobbits began to unsheathe their new swords with curiosity.

"Stay here." Amara told them as she shared a look with Aragorn before the two of them went in opposite directions.

Amara was walking the lower tunnels when she heard the tell-tale screech of a Nazgûl. She quietly moved to the edge to see five of the black riders approaching. She heard the hobbits moving up to the top of the ruins as she worried about where the other four wraiths could be. She grabbed a fallen branch and set it on fire as she drew one of her knives with her free hand. By the time she reached the top of the tower, Sam, Merry and Pippin had already been thrown to the floor. Luckily, they were uninjured. She heard a cry of pain and turned to see one of the Wraiths seemingly stabbing thin air. But she knew better.