As Aragorn approaches, the traveler does not need to read lips to see what is said, "Ithil, manen glad am ni ana cen- tye (Ithil, how glad am I to see you)"
"Verime, ni presut (very, I presume)" he replies and waits for Aragorn to again speak the line he already knows is coming
"Dartho guin Berian...rych le ad tolthathon (you stay with the hobbits, I'll send horses for you)"
"Ni- hat sene hae-tare tan tye (I have seen far more than you)" Aragorn looks down in defeat as the traveler mounts the steed
"N- varna, mellon (be safe friend)" he whispers, this strangely was not what Ithil expected him to say but ponder it he could not.
He set off swiftly with Callon tugging at his neck to alert him to the Nazgûl, a wry smile slid onto his features.
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"Who was that?" whispered Sam in the general direction of Aragorn, who was staring in the direction Ithil had both approached and fled.
"that Sam was an elf... My friend, Ithil"
The hobbits shared a look of shock before continuing to chat amongst themselves
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The nazgûl gave chase, of course, but they were not a match for Ithil for he had enchanted his steed. It ran with unbelievable grace and most of all speed, from its hoves burst powder of blue and purple with every stride.
He outran them in a matter of minutes and within the hour had arrived at Rivendells' grand gate.
"Palime- i andondi, n- linte (open the gate, be swift)" he yelled in a volume that was widely different from his usual hushed tone. Some of his words were slurred and letters not pronounced clearly enough but the guards, especially the ones who recognized the wanderer, seemed to understand the urgency in his voice and ran to open the gate all the same.
As he dismounted his horse he was aware that the hobbit in his arms was looking worse for wear. Callon shifted anxiously inside his cloak sensing the hobbit's distress.
With a sigh, Ithil realised that he would have to heal the hobbit there and then. He had hopes to have elronds assistance and to do it in private. But needs must.
He closed his eyes briefly before reaching outwithin to the hobbit.
His pale arms began to emanate
a pale blue from his veins as if the blood itself was glowing. The effect spread over from Ithil's hands to the hobbit whose arm he was clutching.
Slowly but surely the blue flowed through his veins too and restored the colour to his face as well as healing the wound, as best it could, on his chest.
Ithil felt a part of his spirit drain from him and transfer over to the hobbit. He was vaguely aware of elves looking in wonder and Callon, who had returned to his shoulder in absence of the hobbit, baring teeth at any who got too close.
A flash of red illuminated his vision suddenly, a great eye was all he could see, its fiery intensity blinding him from anything else
Then the world went black...
To be continued
YOU ARE READING
O' weary traveler || lotr ||
FanfictionAs the sun sets on middle earth and hobbits, dwarves, men and elves alike drift into the palace of sleep and meditation. There is one who is left awake under the moonlight. Never resting. Never straying from his cause until the problem he had solved...
