Chapter Three: The Second Day and Third Night

Darkness.

Flooding.

He was drowning, but not in the river that was his last memory. He was lost in a void somewhere and he wondered if he had already passed into the wraith world. He fought against the black that surrounded him, but he was so weak and afraid. He saw also some diffuse light and he strained toward that, though he wondered whether it was the pale kings casting the light or something else. He was not alone, that he knew. He was comforted actually as he felt that other presence give him some strength more to fight when he was certain he had no more to give himself. His mouth moved but no sound came out. Thank you, he sent in thought instead and felt himself heard and answered.

He felt other things also and not all of them pleasant. His shoulder and arm burned with an icy fire that was slowly spreading toward his heart. His wound was poked and prodded and he felt grasping fingers enter there that he wanted to fight off, but was not strong enough. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but again nothing came. Was his mouth still being held shut by the wraith at the water?

He also felt his hand being held, but it felt muffled as though there was mitten around his hand. He could not tell who held it. And if they held his frozen hand, he could not feel that at all. Sometimes he felt a body close to him, warm against his cold. There was soft brushes against his brow and sometimes gentle strokes to his throat and he felt himself swallow whatever was being carefully fed him. That all reassured him since he could not imagine the wraiths needed to eat, but still he felt so cut off from everything. Was he that close to dying or worse? Was this the next step after everything had began to fade and turn grey as his vision had changed and he had begun to see as through a veil?

He heard voices as though coming from a great distance. Pippin’s and Merry’s and Sam’s and Strider’s and was that Bilbo’s and Gandalf’s? Where was he? There was also many other voices that he didn’t recognize. They all spoke Sindarin which pierced through the haze of his pain and darkness a little clearer than those of his cousins and friends. He thought he heard Strider speak some words also in that language and he wondered about that. Most clearly he heard a soft but commanding voice, one of those he didn’t recognize, but which held his attention the most. He heard it almost as much as heard those beloved ones he had heard so much of his life.

Lasto beth nin, Iorhael. Aphado nin! [Hear my voice, Frodo. Follow me!]

Mas? [Where?]

Tolo dan na ngalad. Avo visto! [Come back to the light. Do not stray!]

He wanted to obey, but where was he? How could he find his way out from this blackness? The commanding voice came again, but he did not think he was being addressed, but the darkness that surrounded him. Drego morn! [Flee night!]

And amazingly, he did feel the black draw back a bit. That other presence came to comfort him once more and some of his fears left, but not all. He still did not know where he was. Had he reached Rivendell or were these more Elven voices on the Road? Would he ever reach safety?

You are with Me, My child, came the Voice of that comforting Presence. Stay with Me and the Enemy who seeks you will not claim you.

Frodo suddenly saw a small, thick shard of cold, white light working its way to his heart and dread filled him for it looked to be of the same light he had seen from the wraiths. 

Stay and fight, came the Voice again.

Frodo wondered if he had the strength to last until the end. Will you fight with me? Who are you?

Another light grew and that too drove toward Frodo’s heart. I will fight with you.

So passed the second day and third night.