Hope ↠ LOTR

III. Injury

They continued to trudge through the landscape, only taking breaks when absolutely necessary. They came to a stop when they reached a ruined tower that stood atop a large rock formation, the decrepit building standing above them.

"This was once the great watchtower of Amon Sûl. We shall rest here tonight," Aragorn told them before they made their way up and into the abandoned tower.

The sky had turned dark by the time they managed to find shelter within it, the Hobbits collapsing onto the ground out of exhaustion while the Rangers looked out at the hills below them.

"You should give them the swords now," Athena whispered to him.

He only nodded to himself in response before turning and crouching down to the Hobbits, pulling a cloth from his bag before setting it on the floor in front of them and unravelling it to reveal four swords. They were small in length, the perfect size for them to be able to wield them.

"These are for you. Keep them close. We're going to have a look around. Stay here."

"And don't do anything to attract attention to yourselves," she added on. She walked after Aragorn and away from them but stopped in her tracks, turning around to face the Hobbits that were staring at their swords in awe, "and don't use the swords unless you have to. We don't want to return to find any of you with missing limbs."

When she knew that they had paid attention to her words she turned her back on them and jogged to catch up with her brother who had continued to walk.

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"There is no sign of him," Athena whispered from beside Aragorn while they searched the plains around where they were staying for tonight.

"Not anymore at least," he responded, recalling the rock that they had found which signalled that Gandalf had been here on October 3rd—at least they assumed it was him.

Their heads whipped over to where the Hobbits were placed when they heard a familiar shriek pierce the air, striking fear into their hearts.

"Nazgûl," they whispered at the same time before taking off in the direction of Frodo and the others.

They sprinted through the plains as quickly as their legs would take them, managing to light up two large sticks in the process as they knew that fire would be the only thing they had at hand that would be able to drive the Ringwraiths away.

When they arrived back at the broken watchtower their eyes landed on the leader of the Nazgûl with his sword thrust towards the ground and into an invisible Frodo, a crowd of the black-cloaked figures surrounding him. They launched into action, waving their flaming sticks to keep the Ringwraiths at bay and away from the almost defenseless Hobbits—as well as the One Ring.

Athena used both of her arms to swing the makeshift torch to and fro, Aragorn using one arm for the torch and another for his sword to fight back against them. Frodo's cry of agony filled the air and sent worry throughout her, but she didn't take her eyes away from the forsaken Men in front of her. She used the side of the stick to block one of the blows that a Ringwraith sent her way, pushing back against his blade and knocking him backwards before using the fiery end to set his cloak alight. The Nazgûl wailed from the sudden flames that encased him and began to retreat along with another one that had been set alight by Aragorn.

The rest of them soon followed in the retreat, but one of them remained. Aragorn acted quickly and pulled his arm back before flinging his torch at the remaining Ringwraith, the torch hitting its mark and causing it to flee from the scene with horrifying screeches escaping him the entire time.