"Flight to the Ford" (XI)

Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth! Don't you just love the sound of these words?

I still remember the first time I read this part from The Lord of the Rings, staying up in bed until 4 in the morning, moving to the next chapter - and the next book - just to see whether Frodo had survived, and then go to sleep after so much excitement. The Black Riders appear out of nowhere and it is thanks to Glorfindel and Asfaloth that Frodo can make it. The Black Riders attempt to control his will and, for a while, Frodo is unable to move, but Glorfindel's instructions to his horse - Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth - and Asfaloth's extraordinary speed and resilience save the day. I still remember visualising a weak, wounded hobbit confronting the Black Riders, ordering them to go back to Mordor "and follow me no more", and the final touch of the waters taking Riders and horses - poor horses - away.

I personally believe that the changes made in the film reduced the power of this scene. I understand that the character of Arwen needed to be further developed so that his relationship with Aragorn could  work better on screen, which would have been more difficult had she remained the "lady in waiting" of the books. However, the poignancy of a small, terrified hobbit on the brink of death, challenging the Riders despite his physical and emotional pain is completely lost when it is Arwen who rides the horse taking Frodo in his arms. 

"Go back to the Kand of Mordor and follow me no more!"

This last effort has proven too much for Frodo. After seeing Riders and horses carried away by the water, he can only faint. For the next four days, he will be sleeping, recovering at Rivendell, in the Last Homely House East of the Sea.

"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.

"Flight to the Ford" (IX)

The weather has finally changed and has managed to lift the hobbits' spirits; even Frodo seems to be able to ride happily again, although the shadows of his mind keep on playing tricks. However, today we are able to ride without many worries, even allowed to rest by the stone trolls who looked so menacing until an old bird's nest is discovered behind one's ears. Sam's abilities as a poet are revealed and the menacing sound of hooves approaching the hobbits ended up being those of the horse ridden by... Glorfindel!!! Of course! Bells and Black Riders do not go well together. If you remember, Glorfindel had left Rivendell in search of Frodo nine days ago  (and no, he has no news from Gandalf) and he has finally found the walkers. He is, however, less merciful than Strider. At this time, they have not yet set up camp for the night and will be walking until dawn. The hobbits keep on marching as if in a dream. Only Strider seems to be able to match an Elf's resilience.

"Flight to the Ford" (VIII)

The clouds are still thick, but at least the rain has abated, so the hobbits won't have to put up with the humidity in their bones. The streaks of blue sky appearing behind the clouds are not enough to make up for their cheerlessness of their situation, even less so when Strider, after exploring their surroundings, realises that they have moved too far to the north and that they'll have to turn back southwards again. The going gets tough once more, and Frodo's wound becomes the main issue of conversation. Walking is particularly exhausting, and his arm remains lifeless, icy cold. Strider admits that he cannot do much for Frodo in the wilderness, that being the reason why he is so eager to reach Rivendell. If the wound is to be cured, it is in Elrond's hands that hope lies. As always, this is Strider's message to Sam: "Do not give up hope".

They lit a small fire for the night, the wind is chilly and the tree-tops seem to whisper and moan. Frodo cannot find rest; whenever he tries to sleep, the shadows of his pursuers haunt him. We must arrive soon at Rivendell if Frodo is to survive.

"Flight to the Ford" (VII)

Strider is getting anxious. We are almost ten days out from Weathertop, the rain does not stop and we're running low on provisions. As feared, the rain and the hard going are taking their toll on Frodo; his wound is unbearably painful and he is unable to sleep, imagining the black shapes of the servants of the Enemy getting closer to him. Even when he manages to drift into a short sleep and dream about his beloved Shire, the vision seems "faint and dim", and are soon replaced by black shadows. The poison of the knife is taking hold of him.

"Flight to the Ford" (VI)

I know I've said it many times: I love it when it rains. Today it's sunny and warmer again but we've had some glorious rain in the last couple of days here in Granada. I also know that, as the saying goes in Spanish, "It never rains to everyone's taste" and I imagine rain must feel very different when you're tired, wounded, pursued, and carrying a heavy burden. Such has been the lot of my friends in The Lord of the Rings today. After a windy, rainy day, they are all soaked and unable to get any fire to burn. It pains me to imagine how miserable they must feel, particularly Frodo, in so much pain! I love the rain, but I never forget what a privilege it is to be able to enjoy it, having a roof to take shelter from it when I need it. This should not be a privilege, but a right available to everyone. 

"Fligh to the Ford" (V)

Everything is calm, suspiciously calm, I would say. Strider finds it odd to find no trace of the Enemy, but the discovery of a beryl, an elf-stone, which he takes "as a sign that we may pass the Bridge", brings him hope. 

Indeed, they do cross the Bridge in safety, abandoning the Road for a safer but darker route, a "sombre country of dark trees winding among the feet of sullen hills". Instances of pathetic fallacy are prominent here, with the hobbits happy to leave the "cheerless lands", but finding themself in a new country which "seemed threatening and unfriendly". The sight of some ruins reminds Frodo of Bilbo's account and considers that they may be in the spot of his adventures with the trolls. His question concerning the builders of those ruins allows us once again to see the depth of knowledge Strider stores; nothing seems to be forgotten to an heir of Elendil, and Rivendell appears now not only as a destination to long for, but also as a place of special significance for the Ranger: "There my heart is," he tells the hobbits, "but it is not my fate to sit in peace, even in the fair house of Elrond". 

The going gets now tougher as they reach a valley, "narrow, deeply cloven, dark and silent" inhabited by "Trees with old and twisted roots". There is no clear path, and they keep on walking on this tiring area for the next two days. Therefore, I'll see you in two days' time!



P.S. The rain finally arrived in Granada yesterday and I am so happy! Everything smells delicious; walking down the forest of the Alhambra, always a pleasurable experience, was almost magical this morning! 

And the proof that autumn is officially here: the old woman selling chestnuts to the little boy in the window of "Los Italianos" ice-cream parlour. LOVE IT!