Author note: A line in this chapter is adapted from the movie “Cocoon”.

IN THE MIND’S EYE

Chapter 4: Awakened

The change in the wizard's voice was astounding. Suddenly it became menacing, powerful, harsh as stone. A shadow seemed to pass over the high sun, and the porch for a moment grew dark. All trembled, and the Elves stopped their ears.

`Never before has any voice dared to utter the words of that tongue in Imladris, Gandalf the Grey,' said Elrond, as the shadow passed and the company breathed once more.

‘The Council of Elrond’, The Fellowship of the Ring

The hobbits were not the only ones affected by the Elves’ song; Aragorn, weary enough not to be on his usual guard, felt the liquid tones penetrating his mind and body. As if in a dream, he realized that Gandalf was standing before him, his eyes sorrowful, his hands reaching out.

“Give him to me.”

Aragorn gratefully allowed the wizard to take Frodo from his arms.  Gandalf strode away at a great pace, with Bilbo running to keep up. Aragorn heard familiar voices, then felt the strong, supportive arms of his brothers on either side of him. Barely able now to stay on his feet, his thoughts blurred and beginning to drowse, he did not protest when they escorted him into the House and toward the chambers always kept in readiness for him.

Glorfindel watched them go, relieved at the sight. Aragorn and Samwise would sleep long and deeply, and hopefully awaken with any lingering weakness from the Black Breath dispelled. For the moment, he decided to keep his own counsel about the events at the Ford, save what concerned the Ring-bearer. Elrond and Gandalf needed to focus all of their energies to ease Frodo back from the shadows, if such a thing was possible, and he would not burden them with any distraction. The deathless ones had been swept far away and, for whatever reason, the knife hilt now appeared to hold no further malice.

He asked that Asfaloth and Bill be taken to the stable master, but first he retrieved the Ring, hilt, and sword shards from Bill’s saddlebag. He would deliver these items to Elrond personally, then take his own rest – a long and peaceful walk in this fair valley, breathing in the crystalline air. He longed for the refreshment of the singing of bright birds and the sweet mists of sparkling waterfalls, and the trees would welcome him home with their slow, measured voices. When night fell, he would bathe in the starlight that shone here as in no other place east of the Sea, to cleanse his mind and spirit of any remaining taint of the Nazgûl.

In the next few days, Glorfindel was so busy he was able to manage only brief glimpses of Aragorn and Sam, although Pippin and Merry could not be missed as they explored the House, walked with their elder cousin Bilbo (when they weren’t in Frodo’s room), and enthusiastically enjoyed meals in the dining hall. A delegation of Dwarves was on hand, needing to be housed, and the son of Thranduil had come seeking advice on news which he as yet kept to himself. And the Steward of Gondor’s son had unexpectedly arrived in the valley, in need of rest and food. Glorfindel was not surprised to learn that Elrond had instructed Erestor to arrange a council, yet marveled that Frodo would be well enough to attend. He had periodically inquired discreetly of Aragorn’s welfare, and what he heard pleased him -- the sons and daughter of Elrond, as well as the young hobbits, reported nothing unusual. Aragorn had apparently fully recovered from whatever had – or had not – occurred at the Ford.

October 25

“Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.”

Glorfindel was as horrified as the rest when the language of the Enemy rang out harshly from the wizard’s lips. The air grew dark, and he heard a gasp from Frodo. The hobbit’s body had gone perfectly still, and his eyes were wide with surprise. Frodo was seated directly across the courtyard from Aragorn, and Glorfindel was startled to see that the Ranger, not Gandalf, was the object of the Ring-bearer’s rapt attention. Aragorn was staring blindly ahead of him, his face a blank mask. When the darkness passed and the sun again bathed the valley with brilliant light, Aragorn slumped momentarily in his seat, shaking his head as if coming out of deep thought. But he recovered quickly, his grey eyes once again bright and alert. Glancing quickly back at Frodo, Glorfindel saw that the expression on the Ring-bearer’s face had changed to one of confusion. But soon the hobbit was once again as absorbed as the others in listening to Gandalf resume his tale.

The Council proceeded, and through it all, Glorfindel’s keen gaze returned again and again to Aragorn.

Something perilous has happened, he thought, fear rising in him. I should have spoken 'ere this.

*~*~*~*~*

The moment the Black Speech cleft the air, a dark presence flared into consciousness with a vast surge of triumph. Sensing its host’s mind shudder, and the strong body flinch as if bitten by a venomous serpent, it instantly quieted and the dangerous moment passed. Cloaked in silence and shadow, it cautiously peered out through the eyes of the Mortal, reveling in sight and smell and feelings not experienced in thousands of years. Taking in its surroundings, it noted representatives of the so-called Free Peoples. They were discussing the history of the Master’s Ring, which was comfortingly near.

The fools, they know not what powers lurk in their peaceful valley, this pitiable Elvish refuge.  But what is this? The wizard calls my host 'Aragorn'; could this be the heir whom we have so long sought? Better and better. They would value him above all others. Should I feel the wizard sense me, I will show him that this mortal's life is now within my power to control. Only the sorcerer of whom I am a part, or the Master Himself, would be able to call me forth without damaging my host. The wizard and Elf-lords will risk no harm to Elendil’s heir.

The spell was well wrought; I am tightly woven into this Man’s mind, and he knows it not.

I will watch and listen, and wait.

*~*~*~*~*

Glorfindel waited impatiently while the courtyard cleared, and soon only Frodo and Sam were left, speaking quietly together. He hurried to their side, and knelt quickly.

“Frodo, what did you see when Gandalf spoke the tongue of the Enemy?” he asked in a hushed voice. “I saw you staring at Aragorn.”

“It was probably nothing,” Frodo said hesitantly.  “Hearing those words disturbed everyone.”

“It may be of great importance,” Glorfindel urged.

Frodo frowned, and looked uneasy.  “For a moment I thought there was... a shape hovering over Stri— er, Aragorn. Something dark and malevolent. I felt like one of those Black Riders was near. It was... it was attached to him somehow. And then the sun came out again, and it was gone. Then I wasn’t sure I had seen anything at all.”

Glorfindel again felt the sharp jolt of fear run through him like a knife. It was all he could do to keep from seeking out Aragorn and... what? If what he suspected had come to pass, what could he do? He realized that both hobbits were looking at him with alarm.

“It wasn’t anything, Glorfindel, truly,” Frodo insisted. “The light – or lack of it, I suppose – must have been playing tricks with me.”

Glorfindel took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm.

“Frodo, do you mind coming with me for a moment while I speak to Elrond? Sam, I need you, as well.”

“At your service,” Sam said, bowing slightly. “But will it take long, sir? My master needs his luncheon, and a rest. It’s been a long morning.”

“You need rest as well, Sam,” Frodo said firmly. “I know you haven’t slept or eaten much.”

“Nonsense,” Sam said stoutly, although Glorfindel could see that both hobbits looked drained and weary.

“I would not ask were it not urgent,” Glorfindel said. He took their hands and led them into the House, where he found Elrond and Gandalf conferring in the library. They looked up in surprise.

“Speak, my friend. Why do you bring the hobbits here?” Elrond asked.

“Are you alone?” Glorfindel's eyes swept the large room.

“Yes,” Gandalf said. He frowned, putting down the map he had been studying.

“What became of the hilt of the Nazgûl’s knife?” Glorfindel asked urgently.

“Destroyed, along with the shard removed from Frodo’s body,” Gandalf said gravely. He came forward and rested a gentle hand on Frodo's shoulder. “It was not an easy task. Why do you ask?”

“Elrond, Gandalf…” Glorfindel sighed. “Once every Age… or so… I have been known to make a catastrophic mistake. I regret this may be one of those times.”

** TBC **