"Flight to the Ford" (X)

I am glad there is not much to read today because I am exhausted. And so are the hobbits, altough I have a lovely bed waiting for me, which the hobbits must really envy. They have barely slept five hours and, although revitalised by Glorfindel's drink, hobbits are no Elves and they find it difficult to keep up with his pace. So would I, mind you; so would any mortal, in fact. Frodo's pain has redoubled and he seems to be drifting into darkness; according to the narrator, he "almost welcomed the coming of night, for then the world seemed less pale and empty". To be in a world of colour and not being able to enjoy it... that's the devilish work of the Enemy of whom, by the way, there is no sign. This is most suspicious; they must be waiting somewhere to make their attack more effective. But Glorfindel must certainly be aware of that. And Asfaloth is a great, fast horse. He will soon play a decisive role.