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l　pirees；　and　then　plunged　into　a　deep　cutting　with　steep　moist　walls　of　red　stone。　Echoes　ran　along　as　they　hurried　forward；　and　there　seemed　to　be　a　sound　of　many　footfalls　following　their　own。　All　at　once；　as　if　through　a　gate　of　light；　the　Road　ran　out　again　from　the　end　of　the　tunnel　into　the　open。　There　at　the　bottom　of　a　sharp　incline　they　saw　before　them　a　long　flat　mile；　and　beyond　that　the　Ford　of　Rivendell。　On　the　further　side　was　a　steep　brown　bank；　threaded　by　a　winding　path；　and　behind　that　the　tall　mountains　climbed；　shoulder　above　shoulder；　and　peak　beyond　peak；　into　the　fading　sky。

There　was　still　an　echo　as　of　following　feet　in　the　cutting　behind　them；　a　rushing　noise　as　if　a　wind　were　rising　and　pouring　through　the　branches　of　the　pines。　One　moment　Glorfindel　turned　and　listened；　then　he　sprang　forward　with　a　loud　cry。

'Fly！'　he　called。　'Fly！　The　enemy　is　upon　us！'

The　white　horse　leaped　forward。　The　hobbits　ran　down　the　slope。　Glorfindel　and　Strider　followed　as　rearguard。　They　were　only　half　way　across　the　flat；　when　suddenly　there　was　a　noise　of　horses　galloping。　Out　of　the　gate　in　the　trees　that　they　had　just　left　rode　a　Black　Rider。　He　reined　his　horse　in；　and　halted；　swaying　in　his　saddle。　Another　followed　him；　and　then　another；　then　again　two　more。

'Ride　forward！　Ride！'　cried　Glorfindel　to　Frodo。

He　did　not　obey　at　once；　for　a　strange　reluctance　seized　him。　Checking　the　horse　to　a　walk；　he　turned　and　looked　back。　The　Riders　seemed　to　sit　upon　their　great　steeds　like　threatening　statues　upon　a　hill；　dark　and　solid；　while　all　the　woods　and　land　about　them　receded　as　if　into　a　mist。　Suddenly　he　knew　in　his　heart　that　they　were　silently　manding　him　to　wait。　Then　at　once　fear　and　hatred　awoke　in　him。　His　hand　left　the　bridle　and　gripped　the　hilt　of　his　sword；　and　with　a　red　flash　he　drew　it。

'Ride　on！　Ride　on！'　cried　Glorfindel；　and　then　loud　and　clear　he　called　to　the　horse　in　the　elftongue：　noro　lim；　noro　lim；　Asfaloth！

At　once　the　white　horse　sprang　away　and　sped　like　the　wind　along　the　last　lap　of　the　Road。　At　the　same　moment　the　black　horses　leaped　down　the　hill　in　pursuit；　and　from　the　Riders　came　a　terrible　cry；　such　as　Frodo　had　heard　filling　the　woods　with　horror　in　the　Eastfarthing　far　away。　It　was　answered；　and　to　the　dismay　of　Frodo　and　his　friends　out　from　the　trees　and　rocks　away　on　the　left　four　other　Riders　came　flying。　Two　rode　towards　Frodo：　two　galloped　madly　towards　the　Ford　to　cut　off　his　escape。　They　seemed　to　him　to　run　like　the　wind　and　to　grow　swiftly　larger　and　darker；　as　their　courses　converged　with　his。

Frodo　looked　back　for　a　moment　over　his　shoulder。　He　could　no　longer　see　his　friends。　The　Riders　behind　were　falling　back：　even　their　great　steeds　were　no　match　in　speed　for　the　white　elfhorse　of　Glorfindel。　He　looked　forward　again；　and　hope　faded。　There　seemed　no　chance　of　reaching　the　Ford　before　he　was　cut　off　by　the　others　that　had　lain　in　ambush。　He　could　see　them　clearly　now：　they　appeared　to　have　cast　aside　their　hoods　and　black　cloaks；　and　they　were　robed　in　white　and　grey。　Swords　were　naked　in　their　pale　hands；　helms　were　on　their　heads。　Their　cold　eyes　glittered；　and　they　called　to　him　with　fell　voices。

Fear　now　filled　all　Frodo's　mind。　He　thought　no　longer　of　his　sword。　No　cry　came　from　him。　He　shut　his　eyes　and　clung　to　the　horse's　mane。　The　wind　whistled　in　his　ears；　and　the　bells　upon　the　harness　rang　wild　and　shrill。　A　breath　of　deadly　cold　pierced　him　like　a　spear；　as　with　a　last　spurt；　like　a　flash　of　white　fire；　the　elfhorse　speeding　as　if　on　wings；　passed　right　before　the　face　of　the　foremost　Rider。

Frodo　heard　the　splash　of　water。　It　foamed　about　his　feet。　He　felt　the　quick　heave　and　surge　as　the　horse　left　the　river　and　struggled　up　the　stony　path。　He　was　climbing　the　steep　bank。　He　was　across　the　Ford。

But　the　pursuers　were　close　behind。　At　the　top　of　the　bank　the　horse　halted　and　turned　about　neighing　fiercely。　There　were　Nine　Riders　at　the　water's　edge　below；　and　Frodo's　spirit　quailed　before　the　threat　of　their　uplifted　faces。　He　knew　of　nothing　that　would　prevent　them　from　crossing　as　easily　as　he　had　done；　and　he　felt　that　it　was　useless　to　try　to　escape　over　the　long　uncertain　path　from　the　Ford　to　the　edge　of　Rivendell；　if　once　the　Riders　crossed。　In　any　case　he　felt　that　he　was　manded　urgently　to　halt。　Hatred　again　stirred　in　him；　but　he　had　no　longer　the　strength　to　refuse。

Suddenly　the　foremost　Rider　spurred　his　horse　forward。　It　checked　at　the　water　and　reared　up。　With　a　great　effort　Frodo　sat　upright　and　brandished　his　sword。

'Go　back！'　he　cried。　'Go　back　to　the　Land　of　Mordor；　and　follow　me　no　more！　'　His　voice　sounded　thin　and　shrill　in　his　own　ears。　The　Riders　halted；　but　Frodo　had　not　the　power　of　Bombadil。　His　enemies　laughed　at　him　with　a　harsh　and　chilling　laughter。　'e　back！　e　back！'　they　called。　'To　Mordor　we　will　take　you！'

'Go　back！'　he　whispered。

'The　Ring！　The　Ring！'　they　cried　with　deadly　voices；　and　immediately　their　leader　urged　his　horse　forward　into　the　water；　followed　closely　by　two　others。

'By　Elbereth　and　Lúthien　the　Fair；'　said　Frodo　with　a　last　effort；　lifting　up　his　sword；　'you　shall　have　neither　the　Ring　nor　me！'

Then　the　leader；　who　was　now　half　across　the　Ford；　stood　up　menacing　in　his　stirrups；　and　raised　up　his　hand。　Frodo　was　stricken　dumb。　He　felt　his　tongue　cleave　to　his　mouth；　and　his　heart　labouring。　His　sword　broke　and　fell　out　of　his　shaking　hand。　The　elfhorse　reared　and　snorted。　The　foremost　of　the　black　horses　had　almost　set　foot　upon　the　shore。

At　that　moment　there　came　a　roaring　and　a　rushing：　a　noise　of　loud　waters　rolling　many　stones。　Dimly　Frodo　saw　the　river　below　him　rise；　and　down　along　its　course　there　came　a　plumed　cavalry　of　waves。　White　flames　seemed　to　Frodo　to　flicker　on　their　crests　and　he　half　fancied　that　he　saw　amid　the　water　white　riders　upon　white　horses　with　frothing　manes。　The　three　Riders　that　were　still　in　the　midst　of　the　Ford　were　overwhelmed：　they　disappeared；　buried　suddenly　under　angry　foam。　Those　that　were　behind　drew　back　in　dismay。

With　his　last　failing　senses　Frodo　heard　cries；　and　it　seemed　to　him　that　he　saw；　beyond　the　Riders　that　hesitated　on　the　shore；　a　shining　figure　of　white　light；　and　behind　it　ran　small　shadowy　forms　waving　flames；　that　flared　red　in　the　grey　mist　that　was　falling　over　the　world。

The　black　horses　were　filled　with　madness；　and　leaping　forward　in　terror　they　bore　their　riders　into　the　rushing　flood。　Their　piercing　cries　were　drowned　in　the　roaring　of　the　river　as　it　carried　them　away。　Then　Frodo　felt　himself　falling；　and　the　roaring　and　confusion　seemed　to　rise　and　engulf　him　together　with　his　enemies。　He　heard　and　saw　no　more。

Chapter　1
Many　Meetings
　

Frodo　woke　and　found　himself　lying　in　bed。　At　first　he　thought　that　he　had　slept　late；　after　a　long　unpleasant　dream　that　still　hovered　on　the　edge　of　memory。　Or　perhaps　he　had　been　ill？　But　the　ceiling　looked　strange；　it　was　flat；　and　it　had　dark　beams　richly　carved。　He　lay　a　little　while　longer　looking　at　patches　of　sunlight　on　the　wall；　and　listening　to　the　sound　of　a　waterfall。

'Where　am　I；　and　what　is　the　time？'　he　said　aloud　to　the　ceiling。　'In　the　House　of　Elrond；　and　it　is　ten　o'clock　in　the　morning。'　said　a　voice。　'It　is　the　morning　of　October　the　twentyfourth；　if　you　want　to　know。'

'Gandalf！'　cried　Frodo；　sitting　up。　There　was　the　old　wizard；　sitting　in　a　chair　by　the　open　window。

'Yes；'　he　said；　'I　am　here。　And　you　are　lucky　to　be　here；　too；　after　all　the　absurd　things　you　have　done　since　you　left　home。'　Frodo　lay　down　again。　He　felt　too　fortable　and　peaceful　to　argue；　and　in　any　case　he　did　not　think　he　would　get　the　better　of　an　argument。　He　was　fully　awake　now；　and　the　memory　of　his　journey　was　returning：　the　disastrous　'short　cut'　through　the　Old　Forest　the　'accident'　at　The　Prancing　Pony；　and　his　madness　in　putting　on　the　Ring　in　the　dell　under　Weathertop。　While　he　was　thinking　of　all　these　things　and　trying　in　vain　to　bring　his　memory　down　to　his　arriving　in　Rivendell；　there　was　a　long　silence；　broken　only　by　the　soft　puffs　of　Gandalf's　pipe；　as　he　blew　white　smokerings　out　of　the　window。

'Where's　Sam？'　Frodo　asked