Arinae fell into sleep. But this time she had no dreams, and she was thankful. She was awakened by Elanor. She felt heat on her face and came into contact with a candle Elanor held to her face.
“What are you doing?” Arinae asked.
“They are coming,” Elanor said. “I do not know where Rianatu is.”
Arinae instantly sat up tensing. She stood up and looked out in the distance. She saw them. The dark men riding on dark horses. She immediately unsheathed her sword.
“Go!” she told her friends. “To Weathertop!”
They reached the top. The wind blew against them fiercly. Arinae felt a spine tingling chill run up her spine. They appeared coming silently and stealthily. There were seven of them against three two of which were hobbits. Elanor and Frodo stood in front of Arinae trying to protect her. Instead they were flung away like two rag dolls. The leader approached Arinae. He raised his hand. Suddenly, her sword burned her hand. She had no choice but to drop it. She stepped back but tripped and fell to the ground. He leaned over her pointing his sword. Then he began to chant beckoning her. She nearly gave into the spell.
“Come!” the voice said. “Come!”
A hand reached out toward her neck. It flung aside her cloak and set eyes upon the pendant around her neck. A tear ran down her cheek. She cowered away and for that she was stabbed in the shoulder just as Frodo was. Suddenly! Rianatu appeared. So did another. She watched the two slashing wildly at the figures, who retreated into the night. They were finally all gone. Rianatu leaned over her. The other figure took off its cloak. There before her stood someone so alike in her own image yet so different. Her flaming red hair blew about in the wind. Her green eyes were like two gleaming emeralds. Yet she had a fair face much like that of Arinae’s. The elf peered down at her with green eyes. She knelt down beside Arinae and spoke in elvish.
“Arinae, it is I. Come back to the light. I am Arien.”
Arinae fell back into the darkness despite the beautiful calling. Rianatu picked her up.
“We must get her to Rivendell Arien. Help me!”
Arien followed Rianatu through the darkness. They could hear the cries of the dark elves still pursuing them. They reached the Trollshaws. Arien stood over Arinae and touched her head.
“She needs to be taken to Rivendell quickly. Do you not have athelas?” Arien asked.
“Aye.” Rianatu reached into his satchel and took out a sprig of athelas. He quickly chewed it up and moved her dress down the right curve of her arm. He inspected the wound and placed the athelas on it.
“She will live.”
Arien took his hand.
“Take the horse. Go to Rivendell. I shall watch the hobbits. You are the faster rider. Once you reach the Ford, you shall be safe.”
“I do not fear them.”
With that, Arien mounted the horse along with Arinae and began to ride to Rivendell. It was not long before she heard the screams of the dark elves behind her. She knew the way for it was her home. She took the same route as Asfaloth had taken when he had ridden Frodo to the ford. Arien could nearly feel the black cloaks of the riders behind her. She urged the horse forward taking the route to the Ford. She crossed the river slowly. The riders stopped for a moment and continued on. Arien threw back her cloak and chanted ancient elvish words. The river’s rushing torrents came upon the riders in the form of dragons with their fiery tongues lashing out to consume them. They swallowed the riders up wholly. Arien continued on relieved for the moment that Arinae was safe.