Chapter Twenty: The Ford

It was a blessing to have Glorfindel come when he did. I wish I could have rode his horse all the way to Mordor, drawing the danger away from all of you and getting there faster than the wraiths, faster than the lust for the Ring that continued to grow in me, before my will utterly failed. But I know that wish is folly for my will faltered even then as we flew toward the Ford. I would have been lost and the world lost with me. They twice commanded me to stop and twice I obeyed. Hatred and fear grew in me that they could so easily trap me, but though it was them I hated then, I have turned that now toward myself, hatred for being so weak. I had told Gandalf before we even left that I had little courage inside of me and now it was again being proved true. I was so close to becoming one of the wraiths, so close to joining them. If it wasn’t Glorfindel’s will and words to spur the horse on, I would have. It got me to safety. Its heart did not fail it, though my own quailed within me. I flew past them, not even having the courage enough to watch until I was on the other side of the River. And they could still command me even as I defied them. My will was no match for theirs. I was struck dumb, my sword was broken and fell from my hand. Then the flood came. I was falling, falling into darkness and there was no one to help me.

I am still falling.  

* * *

What a blessing Mr. Glorfindel was to come when he did. It gave us quite a start to hear the sound we had dreaded for days and days, but then we heard bells also and that certainly didn’t sound like a Black Rider. What a wonderful surprise to see an Elf instead! He put you up on his horse and we traveled on until we were sleeping on our feet. The next day we were worn down until we were dizzy, but it was all worth it since it got you closer to Rivendell and healing. Then the sound and sight we had escaped so far came and the Riders were upon us and the horse bore you away. I wish I could have stayed with you for we were all terribly frightened. We didn’t see you again you were across the River. You spoke long in your sleep and we heard from that and from Mr. Gandalf, all you had said and done, what you had shouted to them in your defiance and what they had said to you and how you had held up your sword against them. I can see that just as easily in my mind as if I had seen it with my eyes. He was quite proud of you. We all were.

We were terribly frightened when we were able to cross the River ourselves and found you face-down on the bank, your sword broken and you so pale and cold, we feared you dead or worse. How our hearts cried out then, but you were not dead. I could tell from the way Strider and especially Mr. Glorfindel looked that you were in dire peril, but you were still with us. Other of Mr. Elrond’s house met us there and we made it to Rivendell. You didn’t make a sound as you were lifted you back onto the horse and Mr. Glorfindel sat behind you with his arms securely around you, and that gave us a fresh start, but then Strider looked at us. "No one has ever borne a wound for so long or so bravely. If he can hold on for just another few hours, all should be well."

"Oh, he’ll do that," Mr. Merry said with the utmost confidence. "Frodo can be the most stubborn of hobbits when he wants to be. Used to drive my parents and Bilbo and I daresay Sam here, to the edge of madness at times."

Strider looked at me and smiled as I blushed, but it was true. How often have I thanked the Powers for that.