Ashes ⇝Legolas

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CHAPTER TWO
MORGUL BLADE

"Perhaps faking my death couldn't be considered a good idea." Through Nesryn's features so many emotions have passed, so many different things she had felt at once that it would not be surprising if none of the emotion were clearly visible. She remained unmoving in front of the gazes of three Hobbits and a man as a silent wind picked up, blowing off the torch Strider held, rustling through leaves of high trees in surrounding of the valley.

They were left in nothing but silence, that dragged through lower plants like fog, white as snow that was seconds in their silent standing pierced by such a painful shriek from somewhere on the ground, Nesryn could not comprehend the pain it had within. "Morgul blade." Nesryn had felt the coldness around her heart, like ice that masked the paths of those who travelled on snowy heels. Three hobbits that she saw watched a deathly pale other that rolled from one side to other in pain. Two blue eyes stuck out like pearl drops of blue water of his pale features, almost sickly pale.

"Strider, is he going to die?" As well as Nesryn could remember that was a cheerful voice she had heard just a bare few minutes ago. It belonged to a blond bobbit, cheeks red as cold had bitten on them.

"He's passing into a shadow world. Soon he'll become one of them." Fear for young Hobbit had found its way into Strider's voice, even increased after such a horrifying sound erupted from further away. It was icy and cold, ear-piercing and completely inhuman to whoever was found to be listening in that moment. So cold-blooded nothing ever man made could be compared to the high-pitchness of it. Even though through her veins fear flowed like it had mixed with her blood, Nesryn sat by the hobbit, heart thumping in her ears as she debated with herself the best move to make.

"I am not surprised Wraiths follow you." She finally decided to stand up, as she whirled so she'd be faced with Strider's worried expression. He's gleaming sword shone on little torches his three travelers had, posture proud even through strands of glued hair that masked his forehead and sweat that rested on free strands on man's hair.

"You know of the Ring?" His sure step was nothing in comparison to what he had shown on the young features that eighty-seven year old man had.

"Yes. It is well known the darkness is arising again. Many have feared it for years." Nesryn spoke as she took the worn blanket she had, spreading it over the hobbit and kneeling to reach his small figure on the ground. She knew of his great suffering, though her care was not exactly of great measures, it still nudged her toward to take action.

"Do you know how to help him?" The third Hobbit took spot next to the young woman, looking up in her icy blue eyes as in search for any way she could be of help to his friend.

"No. Injuries are severe. It might take more than ordinary medicine to cure him." She sat by him again, her warm hand brushing the sweaty strands of hobbit's brown hair away from his forehead that felt as cold as stone on evening wind on warmness. She had heard rustling behind her, finding the ranger had kneeled next to her, and took her hand in his gloved one. She had felt cold embrace her small hand right before he had taken it, in waves it hit her and travelled through her warm being, trying but failing to oppose in any way to the heat that she had felt, mostly because she had been clothed greatly.

"Kamba na nique." The man said, dropping her pale hand.

"Yes na lala erma!" Nesryn snapped, her now warm fingers digging into the leather backpack and pulling the cloth she had been using as glove. "Strider, he is dying."

"Sam, do you know Athelas?" Strider looked at the Hobbit briefly, only so he'd turn back to the dying other.

"Athelas? Umm..."

"Kingsfoil!" Nesryn told the Hobbit, that she had only now learned was named Sam. His features have been left confused at Strider's words, but lit up once he had learned the common name for the plant.

"Aye, that's a weed." Despite the seriousness of that situation, Nesryn could not help but to at least smile. The plant commonly known as Kingsfoil, in many dangerous encounters such as the one with Ring Wraiths, would provide the injured with a kind of treatment for their wounds that they could last until their pain is eased by elven medicine, considered to be the best in Middle-Earth.

"Hurry," Nesryn felt the unwelcoming presence of darkness around her heart, as a starless night that in ageless world slowly faded into dawn, when it is the darkest time. She noticed Strider stood up too, inspecting the dirty ground and damp plants that had drops of last fog and crystalline rain rolling down their leaves slowly. "Both of you."

As Strider neared the pine tree, so tall its top almost touched the black abyss of night sky, Nesryn inhaled through her nose, cold tickling it. She could not help but to worry about the hobbit's safety, for it was not only him she had been worried about. Their quest so far has lead them into nothing but more danger; Ring Wraiths, that would not stop following them until the Ring is destroyed. Those man once that were human, greedy and cruel, have sent shivers down woman's being. She feared them more than anything in Middle-earth.

Nesryn took a seat next to the small hobbit, troubled her mind raced with the possible way of avoiding the Wraiths, all until she felt somebody's hand touch her shoulder.

"Lady Nesryn, will Frodo be alright?" Her head turned to meet the light brown haired Hobbit, his small blue eyes twinkling in their corners with fear and regret.

"Perhaps if we get him to Rivendell fast enough. Otherwise, I would hate to sound negative, but it is a possibility he would not make it." Nesryn found herself gazing at the dying figure of pale Hobbit, wondering even now, what he had already been through. Such courage to take on the Ring, the only object more powerful than the Dark Lord himself, could not be found amongst men, neither elves or dwarves. She was truly amazed by what a hobbit could do.

Then, as silence filled the lonely air again, Nesryn had realised the rustling of leaves was not wind, but indeed a white horse as she had noticed it after turning around. Yet, the rider was deemed to be an elf, one of the fairest elves ever to walk Middle-earth; Arwen Undomiel. Pure, pale features as in any elven princess adorned her small frame, black hair in waves that reached to her waist flew in quiet wind. In small, but quick steps she reached Nesryn and the Hobbit next to her, kneeling as her clear, blue eyes gazed at him.

"Frodo, im Arwen. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad."

(A/N):

Mae govannen, mellon!

Yes, Nesryn's journey continues, and has even more mystery...

Sad to say, Legolas shall not appear that soon, since it is after all only two chapter in this book. But do not fret.

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Translation:
Kamba na nique: Your hand is cold

Yes na lala erma!: It is no matter!

Frodo, im Arwen. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad:
Frodo, I am Arwen - I've come to help you. Hear my voice... Come back to the light.
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Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you're gonna stick with this book.

Feel free to tell me if there are any typos, I'll work on removing them!

Until next time!

♥Gabrielle