The Shadow Hunter

Chapter 15: Point of No Return

In the dark she saw a fire flickering, small but bright. There was no sound in her dream, only the sound of her breathing and heartbeat. Whispers, she could hear whispers reaching her ears. Whispers of a language she didn’t comprehend, but foul and evil. Then she heard screams, and shrieks. She knew the owners of those voices, but couldn’t find them in the dark abyss. Her body trembled as she ran aimlessly, searching for those voices.

“Put it out you fools! Put it out!” shouted Frodo in the real life. Varilerin was instantly forced awake and leapt at the Hobbits, drawing her bow in alarm. She only caught glimpses of Frodo putting a small campfire out by stepping on it with his hairy feet, while the other Hobbits watched in horror and confusion.

“I thought I told you not to light a fire!” Varilerin immediately scolded them. The Hobbits stayed silent as the fire diminished into mere ashes, not understanding her intentions. Varilerin let out an angry sigh as she walked towards the edge of the watchtower, returning her arrow as it would be useless to face their imminent enemies. She knew her dream was no ordinary dream. It was a terrifying premonition of what to come, and she knew the owners of those shrieks too well. In an instant she caught five Nazguls riding towards the tower and encircling it. She grunted before she returned to the bemused Hobbits. “The Ringwraiths are coming. We cannot run now. Go to the watchtower, now!”

The Halflings obeyed her orders almost immediately and climbed to the top of the watchtower. Varilerin followed behind them, fearfully watched as the Ringwraiths chased them and slowly disappeared in the dark of the night. They reached the watchtower to find it empty, for the time being, and she instructed them to unsheathe their weapons, The Hobbits anxiously drew their rusty swords, while Varilerin unsheathe her own. She had not used it for a long time, but her hands were still swift and skilful. She silently hoped that her skills were enough to protect the Hobbits from the outnumbering enemies. She knew she couldn’t defeat the undead warriors, but at least she could defend them until Aragorn returned. She tried to calm her mind and body, but found herself unable to. The occurrence was too familiar for her. She knew what was going to happen next.

The next few seconds were complete silence, until five hooded figures emerged from the edges of the watchtower, encircling the group as they raised their horrifying swords, ready to slaughter them. The group backed off to the centre of the watchtower, cornered and seemingly unable to escape their fates.

“Give the Halfling, she-Elf!” one of the Ringwraiths hissed. “Your fate is now sealed. Death cannot escape you!”

“I care not about death,” Varilerin simply replied as she readied to receive their blows.

“But you do not fear your own death, Daughter of Shadows,” another hissed. The name struck her mind with fear. She could literally hear inaudible chuckles coming from her enemies. With a last hiss, the five Ringwraiths charged at her simultaneously. Varilerin didn’t tremble nor shaken despite her mingling fear and instead leapt at the nearest Ringwraith. She landed her sword on her enemy’s, pushing him to the floor as she dropped her body on it. She turned just in time to block another’s strike, backing off as the enemy tried to push her with its brute strength. She immediately ducked once she deemed suitable and let her enemy’s sword s***h the empty air above her. Quickly she swiped its legs with hers, forcing it to drop to the cold stone surface. She stood to her feet and immediately charged at the remaining two in her vicinity.

Wait, two? She mused as she counted her remaining enemies. The Hobbits looked horrified in a sudden, trying to warn her of what’s coming but ultimately failed to do so. Varilerin reacted too late to realize a Ringwraith looming behind her, raising its sword high. In a last moment effort, she rolled forward to dodge the wind-dividing strike. She survived its attack, but ultimately suffered a painful graze on her back. With a painful grimace she evaded the two Ringwraiths’ attacks, rolling herself harshly on the ground. The swords didn’t find their target and clanged the cold stone loudly. Varilerin returned to her feet, ignoring the blood flowing from her back wound. She studied her odds against the enemy. The three were still targeting her, whilst the other two were again standing. To her horror, she saw the two Ringwraiths standing at the other end of the watchtower, just a few feet from the cowering Hobbits.

“RUN!” she screamed desperately as her opponents started striking her again. She blocked their attacks as she tried to push her way to the Hobbits. Like shadows, she saw the Ringwraiths assaulting the Hobbits. Merry and Pippin tried to defend Frodo, but were shoved aside by the more powerful Ringwraith. Sam tried to defend Frodo from the other enemy, giving his outmost efforts only to fail miserably. Frodo trembled and was defeated by his fear, dropping his sword and scrambling away from the Ringwraiths.

“Frodo!” Varilerin shouted, now ignoring the battle she was engaged in. Her body moved on its own as she focused herself on the Halfling, who was now cowering under the shadows of the enemies. He was inevitably cornered and useless, unable to run away. Much to Varilerin’s horror, Frodo desperately reached for his pocket. As if she could read his intentions, she immediately warned, “FRODO DON’T!”

But Frodo was too clouded by his fear and he took out the Ring. Without further thought he inserted the ring into his finger, immediately disappearing into the thin air. Varilerin’s felt as if her heart stopped beating in an instant. She fell to her knees as she continued to defend herself, now unable to make it past her enemies. She could sense the darkness and the whispers of the Ringwraiths close to Frodo, before an agonizing scream followed. From the corners of her widened eyes, she saw one of the Ringwraith stabbing Frodo’s hidden figure with its sword. She swallowed a scream as she found a newfound strength of anger.

“YOU FILTH!” she hissed as she pushed her opponents away. She dashed towards Frodo and his enemy, the latter had taken its sword from Frodo’s body. She quickly disarmed the Ringwraith with her dual swords and kicked it mercilessly to the ground. Panting, she moved to the other and quickly disarmed him as well. Frodo was groaning behind her, snapping her battle fury and causing her to shift her attention to the Halfling. Sam was kneeling next to him, revealing to Varilerin his deep stand wound on his shoulder.

“Take him away! Now is the time!” Varilerin hastily ordered as she raised her swords towards the three others, though she doubted they would succeed in their current state. Out of nowhere, as if answering her prayers, came Aragorn. In his hand was a bright torch that casted fear to the Ringwraiths, and in the other was his sword. Aragorn didn’t spare a glance to study his comrades’ situation and instantly engaged the Ringwraiths.

“Take them out of here!” Aragorn ordered as he ignited a Ringwraith on fire with his torch. The evil creature screamed in pain as it scampered away. “I will follow you!”

Varilerin agreed his suggestion without a second thought and carried Frodo on her shoulders. With her remaining strength she carried him to the nearby forests. The Hobbits followed her desperately, and so was Bill, which seemed aware of its masters’ desperate condition. Not long after Aragorn was tailing them, his torch as if giving hope and protection to them. “Lie him down,” Aragorn suggested once they were deep enough in the forest. As gently as she could, she laid Frodo on the wet forest floor. Aragorn stood alarmed as Varilerin checked Frodo’s stab wound.

“He’s been stabbed by a morgul blade,” she muttered, widening her eyes when she realized what would happen to the Halfling if the wound lingered. She took out a shard of the morgul blade that had injured Frodo. It dissipated into dust under the moonlight, but the pain didn’t escape Frodo.

“Can you heal him?” Aragorn asked. He knew that in Varilerin was more skilful than him in healing, having lived for longer years than him. She intently examined the wound, ignoring the screeches coming from the Ringwraiths.

“I can only prevent the poison from spreading,” Varilerin said darkly as she rummaged her pocket. From it she took out a small amount of dry leaves and, upon seeing their small amount, she frowned. “Strider, I need you to find fresh Athelas. It will slow down the poison.”

Aragorn nodded instantly and disappeared to the Forest. “What do you mean slow down?” Sam asked hastily. “I thought you are a healer!”

“I have no higher skill to treat him. He needs Lord Elrond’s help,” she answered as she applied the dry Athelas quickly. She regretted her idleness in collecting herbs in her journey, having known its importance way before. She mocked herself as Frodo groaned in pain again.

“Rivendell is six days away! He’ll never make it!” Sam protested. Varilerin ignored him and covered Frodo with a blanket which she hoped would warm him in his worsening state. Frodo’s breath was rasping heavily, and his gaze slowly turned emptier. “Daefaroth, what’s happening? Why is his eye—“

“Silence,” Varilerin hissed as she pulled Frodo closer to her. Frodo’s eyes slowly turned white as he faded into the shadow world. Varilerin bit her lips, knowing that she must do something to prevent his fading. “Stay with me Frodo!”

Frodo didn’t respond, merely breathing heavily and gazing to the starry night. Varilerin sighed and pulled her hood down. After closing her eyes for a moment, she opened them and looked deep into Frodo’s eyes. Valar, help me, she prayed as she pulled her scarf down, revealing slightly her Elven face to the Hobbits. She cared not about their surprised reaction. There was only one thing she could do now, and it was to protect Frodo from fading.

“Frodo, follow my voice,” she whispered in a language the Hobbits didn’t understand. Her voice became ethereal, as if magic flowed through her throat. “Look at my eyes, follow the light. Do not give into the darkness.”

What Varilerin was hoping to happen occurred. Frodo’s breathing slowed and calmed down, and his eyes were moving towards her. Frodo’s eyes glinted silver under hers, which filled his with light. As if he was enchanted, Frodo slowly saw her face glowing in the dark, like the moon above her. “Who are you?” Frodo muttered in disbelief.

“I am your friend, Frodo Baggins,” Varilerin whispered softly, holding back the pain that was torturing her body. “Stay with me, Frodo.” Frodo remained calm in her grasp, his gaze fixed on her face until Varilerin heard rustles coming from the bushes. She turned and laid Frodo to the ground, pulling her hood and scarf once more. “Someone’s coming,” she warned the other Hobbits as she drew her bow. She couldn’t be sure that the presence approaching them was Aragorn, for the wound on her back seemed to blind her senses. Fortunately, the figure emerging from the bushes was familiar to her.

And so was the other following behind him.

An elleth tailed Aragorn, her face radiating light as she emerged from the darkness. The Hobbits were mesmerized by her beauty. Varilerin recognised the dark hair well, and her face that always glowed like the starlight. Arwen.

Arwen pulled her horse hastily closer to the group and immediately approached the laying Frodo. Varilerin in an instant backed away, unable to face her old friend and past, and let her study Frodo. Aragorn knelt beside her, applying the fresh Athelas on Frodo’s wound.

“He’s fading, but slower than I thought,” Arwen told Aragorn before she glanced at Varilerin, who was standing cautiously not far. She looked at her in confusion, but immediately shook the thousand questions she wanted to ask to the ranger. “I need to bring him to my father.”

Aragorn nodded and mounted Frodo on Arwen’s horse. “I have been looking for you for two days. There are five wraiths behind you, where the other four I do not know.”

“Stay with the Hobbits. I will send horses back for you,” Aragorn pleaded, for he didn’t want her to risk her life when he could replace her.

“I’m the faster rider. I’ll take him. Frodo’s dying. If I can get across the river the power of my people will protect him,” Arwen assured him. Aragorn didn’t even looked slightly convinced, but Arwen gripped his hands to give him trust. “I do not fear them,” she whispered meaningfully, her eyes digging deep into the ranger’s.

Aragorn, knowing that he could not further argue with her, let her mount her horse. “As you wish, but be safe. Ride hard, don’t look back,” he said lastly. Arwen gave him a bitter smile before she paced her horse, Asfaloth, and disappeared into the darkness.

“What are you doing? Those wraiths are still out there!” Sam protested after Arwen left them.

“No, Master Gamgee. It’s the only hope he can get,” Varilerin assured him doubtfully. The creatures were stronger than she had expected, causing her to worry about their decision of leaving Arwen alone with Frodo. “He will die if he stays with us. Do not worry, I believe that she can get him to safety,” Varilerin said again to calm Sam down, knowing that they could only hope for the best.

Yes, in Arwen’s arms, Frodo would be much safer from harm, much safer compared to her protecting him.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Hobbits remained quiet as they continued to walk the night, having feared the Ringwraiths pursuing them from behind. To their relief they saw no more of the evil creatures, and to their horror they realized that the creatures would be pursuing their friend instead. Varilerin managed to hide her wound from Aragorn and the rest of the worrying Hobbits. With the use of Athelas she ensured that whatever poison or effects the blade had on her would be minimized. Her body had been immune to such poisons after a long time of travelling. She had suffered much worse.

Despite the ongoing peace in their trip, they were constantly dreaded by the dangers that could attack them any time. The Hobbits, having learnt how perilous their adventure was, always put their hands close to their sheathed swords and walked side by side. The rangers escorting them didn’t lower their guards either. Even though they were no longer chased by the Ringwraiths, their comrades and allies would be targeting them whenever possible. Aragorn and Varilerin took greater precaution in their watch, the latter insisting to scout the area instead of Aragorn. Aragorn knew she was exhausted and wounded somewhere, but was defeated by her fearful insistence. She should have known that she was better in protecting them from afar. She mocked herself, failing to fulfil her promise with Gandalf by letting herself drown in her prophetic dreams. Otherwise, Frodo may have not been wounded.

It was three days after the incident were they greeted by a messenger from Rivendell, along with him several strong horses and ponies. Aragorn and Varilerin sighed in relief, receiving the rides that would at least quicken their dreading journey. The escort was unfamiliar to Varilerin, but she remained hidden under her guise as she help mount her friends on their rides.

“Aragorn,” the escort greeted in the tongue of his people.

“How is Arwen and the Halfling?” Aragorn asked the ellon.

“They are alright. She arrived just in time to prevent him from completely fading. Lord Elrond has mended him. He is now out of danger,” the ellon answered with his melodious voice. At this Aragorn sighed in relief.

“What are they talking about?” Sam asked Varilerin.

“Your friend is safe, Master Gamgee. He is now mended and healed,” Varilerin informed Sam without glancing at him the slightest. She silently thanked the Valar for the success of Arwen and Frodo in reaching Rivendell, hoping in turn for their own journey to pass undisturbed.

The Hobbits simultaneously let out a relieved sigh, now their hearts no longer burdened with worry. Now with mounts, the company travelled faster under the day and night. The woods thickened as they went closer to Imladris, but the company didn’t feel dread no more. Varilerin had assured them that the woods they were about to enter were properly protected, preventing them from making any unnecessary remarks regarding their safety. When they had reached the borders of the valley, they encountered several rangers who showed them the path to Rivendell. Seeing the cloaked rangers, she was immediately reminded of her past and what would be waiting for her in Rivendell. The closer she got, the more painful her heart was beating. She remembered the forest too well, the branches and the green leaves. Ghosts of her and her friends leaping on the branches appeared. She stopped as she let the ghosts play with each other, reminding her of the better days which had once been her life, until all perished due to her own actions. She grimaced, shaking the ghosts away from her thoughts.

I shouldn’t have been here, she thought as she summoned the strength to pace her horse closer to the gates of Rivendell. I don’t deserve to be here. I should leave once the Hobbits and Aragorn are in safety.

But as the gates were now in vicinity, she couldn’t stop herself. Under the light of the rising sun, somehow the village called for her—to repent her faults or calling her home she didn’t know. She gripped the reigns tight, trying to unmount from her horse and return to her exile. However, her body stopped following her orders and remained unmoved. She winced once more before she finally arrived in front of Rivendell, where she would reunite with her painful past once more. She could not escape her memories now. The only path to take was to face them.