Finally, on the evening of the fifth day, Silvren spotted a small patch of trees forming a small wooded area and knew at once that it was the Trollshaws Bilbo had talked about. Asfalas slowed down to a walk and silently walked towards the distant trolls that were made of stone and were almost as tall as the trees. Out of the corner of her eye, Silvren spotted a dark figure crouch over some foliage with a torch propped up in the ground beside him. Quietly, she slid off her horses’ back walked up behind the shadowy figure with her long sword in hand. Once she was standing behind him, she placed the blade of her sword against the soft spot of his neck and beneath his chin, his head now tilted slightly to the side.
“What’s this, a ranger caught of his guard?” she said smoothly, lifting his face towards her.
“Silvren.” Aragorn breathed in happiness as he grabbed his torch and stood to his feet. “I’m so glad to see you.” he added in Elvish.
“And I you. Arwen had wished to go on this journey and see you but you know our father. He wouldn’t hear of it.” she replied in her native tongue as well.
“Yet, he permitted you to come?” he raised an eyebrow at her but she only brushed raised his questioning remark.
“Where is Frodo? Is he all right.” she asked hastily, her eyes searching his for an answer as he hesitated for a second.
“This way.” Aragorn muttered, leading her to the area Frodo and the other hobbits were gathered. Frodo was writhing in pain and his breath was now short and ragged.
A wave of worry crashed over Silvren as she knelt beside the poor hobbit and gazed at his perspiring face and damp hair. “Frodo.” she whispered to him.
“Who is she?” she heard one of the hobbits whisper to another s she dabbed the sweat off his forehead with a white piece of fabric, Aragorn chewing on a piece of Athelas from beside her and Frodo gasped and shook from the poison surging though his bloodstream.
“She’s an elf.”
“He’s fading. He’s not going to make it.” Silvren muttered quietly as she pulled the collar of his shirt back to examine the wound he had received on the left side of his chest. “We must get him to my father.” Silvren added quickly as Aragorn picked up the small hobbit.
“I’ve been looking for you for five days.” she said as she and Aragorn walked over to her horse. “There are four Wraiths behind you. Where the other five are, I do not know.”
Aragorn placed Frodo on top of her horse then turned to face her, speaking in the native tongue, Elvish. “Stay here with the hobbits, I’ll send horses for you once I reach Rivendell.”
“No, I’m the faster rider.” Silvren argued.
“Silvren, the road is dangerous. I can’t let you travel with him alone.” Aragorn expressed his concern for her safety.
“I will take him. I came here on my own. The power of my people will protect him once we’ve crossed the river. I am not afraid.” Silvren said reverting back to common-tongue.
Aragorn glanced down at the ground, he had been defeated and there was no point in pushing the discussion any further. Stepping back, he let Silvren mount her horse and take up the brown reins.
“Silvren,” he muttered, “ride hard and don’t look back. You’re his last hope.” he said in common tongue, worry and despair clouding his blue eyes.
“Noro lim, Asfalas, noro lim.” Silvren leaned forward and whispered to her horse. Her horse took off like a streak of lightning and left Aragorn and the hobbits watching her and Frodo disappear.
The soft pounding of Asfalas’ hooves upon the dirt road was the only thing Silvren and Frodo heard as they continued riding through the moonlit forest. The dark sky above them quickly turned into a lighter shade of blue with some rays of yellow sunlight streaming across the open sky as Silvren rode out of the forest and into the open plain towards Rivendell. For the longest time they saw nothing unusual and nothing pursued them, but that was not so once they entered another patch of pine and spruce trees. Frodo saw a quick glimpse of the Black Riders as Silvren guided Asfalas through the first, at first he thought they were nothing but a shadow of thought.
Silvren could hear the thundering sound of hooves from near by and glanced to her right side. Riding across from them on the other side of some spruce trees was one of the Wraiths. A shrill cry brought her head around to the other side to see another Wraith on her left side, riding behind another line of trees.
The trees grew sparse as she turned Asfalas this way and that, three Ringwraiths now riding behind her, calling out to each other in their high-pitch shrieks. A sharp branch caught the side of Silvren’s face before she could duck out of its way and left a small line of blood on the upper portion of her right cheek.
Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed four Wraiths following them, then five. Then all nine Ringwraiths were behind them and quickly gaining on her as she nudged Asfalas faster.
A black, gloved hand of one of the Wraiths reached out towards Frodo, almost touching Frodo’s face as a sharp flicker of fear ran through Silvren’s nerves and she urged her horse even faster. Her horse pulled ahead of the Wraiths, pounding heavily upon the hard dirt ground as they rode towards the ford, hoping to make it safely across.
Several Nazgul rode around the trees and rode out in front of her, attempting to cut her off, but she pulled her horse to the right. Silvren rode around a pine tree then out in front of them, passing another Wraith that had come around and tried to cut her off. Her heart was pounding heavily within her chest as she held tightly onto Frodo and her reins as she guided her horse away from the Nazguls. A fallen log lay in her path and her horse jumped over it with ease and galloped down a small slope to the shallow river, small bits of dirt flying up into the air from the impact of the horse’s hooves.
Silvren rode through the blue water, splashing her and Frodo as they made their way to the other side of the river. Upon reaching the other shore, Silvren turned around to face the Ringwraiths and saw that they had stopped on the other bank. A devious smile pulled at the corners of her soft lips and she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her heart. She watched as the black horses neighed with fear and rose up on their hind legs. Several of them stomping at the pebble-covered ground as their masters debated what to do next. Her own horse stomped impatiently at the water beneath them, sending several droplets in the air and on her feet.
“Hand over the Halfling, She-elf.” the Witch-king hissed in a subdued, but loud voice.
Silvren unsheathed her sword in an instant and held it up for them to see. “If you want him, come and claim him.” she challenged them, which only fueled their anger.
She watched in dismay, not letting it show though, as the nine Wraiths unsheathed their swords and started into the shallow water. The sound of numerous hooves upon the riverbed sounded like the distant rolling of thunder as Silvren glanced down at the river.
Frodo listened carefully as the elf began whispering words in elvish as if she were casting a spell and a small glimmer of hope twitched within his heart. He thought he recognized several of the words she spoke, but due to the fading process, he couldn’t reregister them.
Silvren closed her eyes and continued chanting an elvish spell she had read and memorized from one of her father’s books, the water slowly beginning to rise beneath them. A loud rumbling sound from further up the river caught their attention and everyone, even the Ringwraiths, turned to watch as a white flood of water came rushing around the bend in their direction.
The Nazguls’ horses went crazy as the noise grew louder and water came closer. Silvren and Frodo watched as the Wraiths tried to outride the fast moving water, but couldn’t and were swept away into the current. Silvren lowered her sword and let out a sigh of relief, just now realizing she had been holding her breath.
Frodo’s head sunk forward and Silvren’s attention was quickly drawn to him. “No.” she breathed
heavily as she dismounted and gently laid him upon the ground. “Frodo, no! Don’t give up now.” she panicked. “Not now.” she said and watched with sorrow as he could only stare up at her with white, glossy eyes. A single tear fell from her eyes and onto his face as she held him close and prayed that the Valar would spare him.
“Atar! Túl lintivë!” Silvren shouted as she rode past the gate towards the house with Frodo perched in front of her. Asfalas’ hooves pounding the dirt path as Arwen caught up her skirts and gracefully ran down the stairs to meet her sister and their newcomer.
“Where is father?” Silvren queried as she leapt from her horse’s back and Arwen scooped the Hobbit up into her arms.
“In his study, I believe.” Arwen replied hastily as the stable-boy led Asfalas away.
“He is fading and father is his only hope.” Silvren said as Glorfindel ran down the stone stairs towards them.
“Tell my father that I have arrived and the hobbit Frodo needs his assistance immediately.” Silvren ordered Glorfindel as she pulled her green colored suede gloves off her soft hands.
“Yes, my lady.” Glorfindel replied with a bow and then turned and quickly went off in search of Lord Elrond.
“We have already prepared a guest room for him.” Arwen said as they walked through the brightly lit halls towards the set of winding stairs. The rest of the way, they walked in silence, only the quick steps of their light footsteps could be heard around them.
“There it is.” Arwen pointed to guest room at the end of the hall that lay on the second floor in the East wing. The corridor of which their guest stayed in.
Silvren hurried ahead of her sister and opened the door for her, allowing her to walk into the room and over to the large bed. “Father is coming.” Silvren said, gazing down the hall at the tall regal figure of Elrond striding towards them.
“We’re going to need water.” Arwen mumbled as the door flew open and Elrond walked into the room with Gandalf hobbling in behind him.
“What happened?” Elrond asked as Arwen stepped to the side and he took her palace beside the wounded hobbit.
“Aragorn said he was stabbed by a Morgul blade.” Silvren told Elrond as she stood across from her father, Gandalf now standing beside her.
“Go change into a plain dress. You can help tend to Frodo until he recovers.” Elrond said looking up from Frodo to his youngest daughter.
Silvren nodded then turned and left the room, walking down the long corridor to the West wing where she, her siblings and a few others stayed.
“Silvren?” a familiar voice called out, a voice she hadn’t heard for some time and the sound of it caused her heart to flutter. Turning around, she saw Legolas standing in front of his door; his soft face warm with happiness at the sight of her and his blue eyes sparkling in the well-lit corridor.
“Legolas.” she breathed, a smile crawling across her face. Silvren ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his strong body, taking in a deep breath of his musk-scented body as he wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders, holding her tightly.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come back.” he smiled as she pulled away just enough to look up at his face.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” she said truthfully.
“Why is that?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
“You never know when your father needs you so I thought you would have left long ago.” she told him.
“Not when you’re away on a dangerous mission. I wanted to be here when you returned to make sure you were unharmed.” smiled Legolas. “What happened to your cheek?” he cupped her face in one hand and gazed at the dried scratch on her right cheek.
“A branch caught it. If you have time, we can talk later, but I must change so I can help tend to
Frodo.” Silvren sighed and glanced momentarily at the stone floor.
“Frodo, the Halfling?” Legolas asked if he wasn’t too sure about the name.
“Well, good luck and I’ll talk with you later.” he smiled encouragingly.
“Thank you.” Silvren smiled.
Legolas smiled down at her, wanting to become lost in her enchanting eyes, but knew he couldn’t, at least not at that moment. Leaning forward, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and pulled back away. “Go, I shouldn’t keep you from your duty.” he whispered as his arms fell away from her shoulders.
Silvren nodded as she backed away then walked back to her room where she would change into a simple dress so she could help Arwen tend to Frodo.
Atar! Túl lintivë= Father! Come quickly