I own nothing recognizable

Um. Does the length make up for the wait? ^^'

I glanced around, edgy. The road we were following wasn't terribly unusual – loose scales of slate made it almost gravelly in texture, and I spared a brief thought for the hobbits and their bare feet. Walking on such stuff without shoes had to be uncomfortable, but they didn't complain. For that, I was grateful – just the crunchy echoes of our footsteps were enough to set my teeth on edge. I probably shouldn't have been stretching my senses without Pippin's constant chatter, but he didn't have the breath and neither of us had the inclination to talk.

The elf was up ahead, one hand on his horse's bridle and the other on his sword. I suspected he was listening just as hard as I was (though probably not as far) by the set of his shoulders and the slight cant at which he carried his head. No-one else would have noticed it, it was that slight, but I was keeping an especially close eye on him, going so far as to pause in scanning the countryside in front of us every few seconds to give him a hard look. Strider must have noticed, because he was dropping back towards me from his previous position near that Glorfindel character. He opened his mouth, and I prepared myself to try and tune out the forthcoming lecture when a sound distracted me. More precisely, an increase of sound.

The Riders were moving in.

I cut Strider off before he got his first word in edgewise. "The Riders are moving up," I called to Glorfindel. I may not trust him, but Strider did and that made him the de facto leader of our motley little assortment. I grabbed Pippin's shoulder without waiting for a reply, turning my hearing down as far as I dared. Now and the next few minutes were no times to befalling on my face in a zone because one of those ghouls screamed. Once I'd finished, I returned my attention to Glorfindel, who was looking at me oddly.

"What?" I snapped, annoyed by his gaze. He merely shook his head, glancing at Strider in a look that said 'You've got some 'splainin' to do,' though probably not in those words. All he actually said was "We have not the time to waste, then," in a reasonable sort of voice that irritated me even more. Before I could snarl a suitably pithy remark, he turned his attention to the his horse, oddly enough, and started speaking to it in a language I didn't recognize. I bristled – I say the enemy is closing in on us, and this guy has to stop and talk to his damn horse? Whatever he was saying seemed urgent enough, but the language itself put my teeth on edge. Not because it sounded bad – the opposite, actually. It sounded too good, easing my jangling nerves, and I couldn't have that, not when we were about to go into combat.

At least he wasn't long about it. After finishing his conference with the horse he turned slightly and motioned us forward.

If I had thought the pace before was bad, this was hell. It wasn't quite flat-out running, but it was close. Though I could keep up the pace – I kept myself in shape, both from visits to the gym and lots of running after fleeing perps – something in the back of my head was niggling at me. A growing feeling of anger – why the hell was I running? I'd seen these things, I could take them! Or if I couldn't, I'd damn well better go down fighting, rather than run down and butchered like a deer.

I shook my head – if the elf wanted us to keep running, there was probably a good reason for it and that's all there was to this, I told myself firmly. Even so, I could feel my senses trying to wriggle higher than I'd set them, no doubt courtesy of the adrenaline I was running on.

We'd been running uphill, the trees thinning out on either side of us, but now I could sense the incline was beginning to slacken off. We were coming to flatter – and clearer – ground.

I glanced back just in time to see some of the Riders burst out of the trees on either side of the stretch of roadway we'd just cleared. I drew back my lips in a silent snarl, and skidded to a stop while turning fully to face them. I could hear elf-boy shouting at Frodo to ride for some ford, but didn't hear any galloping until a smack told me that Glorfindel had decided to get his horse going the old-fashioned way with a whack on the bum.

I didn't dare turn and look, however, because one of the Riders chose that moment to give a shriek that seemed to drill into my skull through the bridge of my nose. I braced myself for a fight, but to my surprise they rode on by and ignored me. Wondering what on Earth could have got them to do that, I spun around.

The Riders had passed by most of the expedition in favor of pursuing Frodo – who, thankfully, was by this point a speck of white in my forcefully dulled vision. Still, I wasn't about to let those things have even the slightest chance of catching up to the little guy, and I started sprinting after them, aware of Glorfindel ahead and to my left and Strider slightly to the rear and my right. I followed the elf's lead as best I could; it looked like he was headed for a small hollow near the river that had appeared out of the distance.

The Riders had come up hard against the river's bank, while Frodo was almost across on the elf's horse. They appeared to be singularly reluctant to cross, or even set a foot in the water, and I grinned ferally. The river itself gave me an odd feeling up and down my spine, but we had these ghouls trapped up against it. Now to go in for the kill.

The elf was slowing down, though. I slowed too, though I was distinctly unhappy. We had them, we had them cornered, and we were stopping? "What. Are. You. Doing?" I growled. He appeared to be gathering sticks. "Building a fire. Quickly!" I opened my mouth to snap at him, then remembered the fight on the hill and closed it. It was smart to have something fight with, I figured, but I wasn't about to say anything aloud.

Without another word, I hurried off to the undergrowth nearby and started grabbing what sticks I could find. I had maybe half an armful when a muted roaring sound in the distance caught my attention. I glanced quickly in the direction the sound was coming from, but without letting vision slip any higher than it already was – when had it gotten that high? - I couldn't make anything out. I knew if I let one sense slip an inch they'd all take a mile, so I shoved it back down and hurried back to where the hobbits had joined us and gotten a small flame going already.

I dumped the bundle next to the fire and turned to keep an eye on the Riders. Whatever the roar was, they'd heard it too, and it was clearly spooking them. The milled about for a few more moments before some unseen signal had them all wheeling around as one. They were headed straight for us, and I tensed.

For a timeless instant, I was back in the jungle, glaring at the pale figures that rapidly approached through the jaguar's eyes, but an exclamation from Glorfindel drew me back. "Drive them toward the river!" he commanded, picking up a brand from the fire in one hand and readying his sword in the other. I glanced at him sharply. "Won't that drive them back toward Frodo?" I asked, not really caring that I'd growled at him. He didn't seem to care either. "Frodo is safe in elven territory! Now, they come for us." I huffed and turned to the fire to grab burning brands of my own. As I did, I saw the jaguar stalking around the edge of the fire. I half-turned toward it, then it leapt at me and the world faded away.

I watched, mouth hanging open, as Lord Glorfindel and Jim sprang into action at almost the same instant. Lord Glorfindel was faster, but not as much faster as I would have thought. And Jim was matching him almost evenly in grace and fluidity. Just like on the hill.

I gasped, and started watching Jim more intently. I still hadn't shaken the sight of his after that fight – they had definitely been yellow, not blue, and I still hadn't gotten an explanation of that "spirit animal" business.

A warning cry from Merry had me ducking reflexively, and I waved my little firebrand in the direction of the Rider that had managed to get near while I was worrying. It didn't seem to be doing much, and fell to the ground after tripping over a small stone. I looked up in terror...And Jim was there, roaring, and the horse was backing away. All the horses were, slowly being driven into the river.

Just as the last one had been forced in, a great hissing roar met my ears. A wall of water, taller even than Lord Glorfindel, barreled it's way down the creek. I blinked in stupefied amazement and rubbed my eyes, but the crest of white horses made of foam remained on the top of the wave. They galloped over the Black Riders without breaking stride, and by the time they reached the next bend, nothing remained of those horrible riders or their foul beasts of burden.

As the roar faded away, I looked around, a profound sense of relief making me weak at the knees. Then I saw Jim, standing stiff as a board, looking at the creek. "Jim!"

Update 6/19/2013: New poll up on my profile - where do you think Jim should find Blair?