He helps the freedwoman board a ship to the River Kingdoms and that's it, they can't catch her anymore, and he can bask in the uncomplicated high of a Good deed done.
The nearer Wound is almost familiar ground, by now, so he crosses the Warstone line on his way back. No-one will pursue him here and he'll be fine, as long as he's careful and ready for a fight.
So of course it's not a fight that gets him.
An Abyssal rift opens up at his feet and spits him out - elsewhere.
The harmony of Middle-Earth is already building upon discord; what is one more abyssal rift to deal with?
Not that anyone notices it, or that it stays open for long. That's what Music does to discord - it builds it up as a leading tone to greater harmony.
When Gord falls or steps through, he's on a flat hilltop, with a wide ring of ancient stonework now crumbling and overgrown with grass. But in the center, there's a new cairn of broken stones, blackened as with fire, and the grass around it also scorched.
If he looks around, there're a lot of other shorter hills round about, with a narrow ribbon of Road running across, skirting the hill he's on to one side. Far off, there are mountains.
It's evening, or maybe morning - the sun is near the horizon, on the side opposite the mountains.
(And the rift has already closed behind him.)
Gord spends several turns turning around and rapidly scanning for danger, but nothing immediately attacks him.
That didn't feel like a teleport or plane shift, so maybe it really was one of those Abyssal tears, he's never seen one up close. And the 'ancient ring of stones' setup is obviously suspicious. But this place doesn't look like anything he's heard about the Abyss, either; in fact it looks suspiciously wholesome.
Maybe he is in the Abyss and it's all an illusion. But they say the Abyss touches on all worlds and planes, so maybe he just ended up - elsewhere? He certainly doesn't recognize anything he sees. And this is either much farther south than he was, or it's locally summer.
Are there any people he can see in the distance anywhere? Settlements or signs of habitation? A sign conveniently saying where the road goes? Recognizable writing on any of the local stonework?
If he looks closely at the stonework, there're things that could be writing - but worn too much over the years; they're probably not in any alphabet he knows, but he can't even be totally sure.
No one's moving on the Road. He can't see any farmed fields, except maybe on the other side of the marshes to the sunward - it's too far to tell there.
But he can see some people in a hollow on one flank of the hill - what might be one man and three halflings, with a pony.
Have they seen him? Does he have a way to approach them stealthily without being seen? What are they doing, can he hear anything from over here?
(These questions are instinctive; he doesn't need to decide to hide from and/or spy on a party of strangers in the wilds, it's simply always one of the options to take.)
It doesn't look like they've seen him yet, but they might soon - the man and two of the halflings (there were three of them? No, now he can see four) are just starting to climb up. He'll be really visible if he stays here pretty soon, or if he starts climbing down toward them, unless he wants to hide behind the stonework.
That means he has to reveal himself right away, if he wants to present himself as a peaceful stranger.
Or he can hide behind a remote bit stonework and eavesdrop, in a place where he can hope to sneak away later, but if they're competent they'll sweep the hilltop and probably find him. And then he could still burn spells to get away without a fight, probably, but he'd be disadvantaged at diplomacy.
He needs to learn where he is, possibly on a scale of 'plane, planet and continent', and he's unlikely to overhear it by accident. Diplomacy it is, then.
He stands where they can clearly see him as they come up.
To non-magical senses, Gord looks like a tall, well-muscled Man. He is wearing chainmail leggings and sturdy boots but no shirt, gloves, or headgear. There are many bags, pouches and implements hanging from all around his belt, and he is holding a two-handed greatsword in one hand. (He holds it in an open and friendly manner, as coded between northern Avistani adventurers; it has no obvious sheath or baldric to be carried on.)
To magical senses, some of his equipment would stand out, but nothing terribly inappropriate for a reasonably leveled martial adventurer, and no spells one wouldn't want to approach when hung on a stranger.
Frodo is momentarily excited when someone stands up at the top of Weathertop - but a moment later, he sees he isn't Gandalf. In fact, he's a Big Person, but he isn't dressed like any sort of Big Person than Frodo's ever seen before.
He's more cautious now after Bree, but - Bilbo did describe meeting strange people on the Road, even though he didn't mention anyone like this Big Person. He still raises his hand in greeting and says in the Common Speech "Hello!"
(He and the other Halfling are wearing what were good clothes originally, though with a lot of stains that might've come from the nearby marsh. No shoes.)
The Man, who looks like he's been adventuring for a while (in these clothes, too) nods in greeting. If Gord doesn't respond to the Westron, he'll follow up after a moment with a "Greetings!" in Sindarin.
He's wearing muddy high leather boots, with a travel-stained green cloak that he has drawn close enough to hide any items carried under it.
He casts Comprehend Languages in time to catch the Sindarin.
(It's normal to prepare Comprehend Languages when crossing the Wound alone, there's no knowing who you might meet. It's not worth it to prepare Share Language; that's what free slots are for, once you've established good intent.)
For now he'll repeat the man's greetings back to him (phonetically, and with a bad accent) and add his greetings in Taldane and Hallit. If they don't understand either of those, he'll mime that he can understand them but can't speak to them right now. Who knows, maybe one of them also has a Comprehend Languages, or something fancier.
(This is a common thing to mime in places where foreign adventurers are common, and may be harder to get across to people unused to the idea of one-way language spells.)
...Why aren't the halflings wearing any shoes? Is this a weird slavery thing? They look well-fed and uninjured, but Gord mentally settles into a more wary ready stance.
Strider frowns momentarily with curiosity at the ?two? languages he doesn't recognize. This stranger must have traveled very long distances to speak languages he hasn't even heard before.
But - good, the stranger speaks Sindarin. That means he's probably an educated man, or he's spent some time with the Elves, and not serving Sauron. "What brings you here, in these troubled times?" he asks, still in Sindarin.
"And what is your name?" Frodo asks, also in Sindarin.
(He's about to add that he's "Frodo Underhill," but then thinks better of it. That barely worked at Bree, and their enemies might have heard that name from Bree by now.)
Gesturing time! "Name", point to self, "Gord". Point at ears, nod, point at mouth, shrug. Mime praying (folded hands, closed eyes), sun moves a little, point at mouth, nod. Will they wait for him to prepare a spell to talk to them?
He both can't and doesn't want to explain "what brought him here", yet, but he takes note of the "troubled times". (It doesn't particularly occur to Gord that people might habitually say "in these troubled times" even in times and places that are not as troubled as living on the Worldwound border.)
Oh, he doesn't know Sindarin well, so he can understand a lot of what he hears but can't put the words together just yet. Strider, remembering his own studies of Quenya and Adunaic and a bit of Taliska in his youth, knows that feeling well.
"Strider," he says, pointing to himself.
Oh, they're doing introductions? (He doesn't speak any Sindarin.)
"Merry. I don't suppose you've seen Gandalf here? We're hoping to find him."
"Not seen Gandalf." True, as he hasn't seen anyone. (His facility with spoken Westron, as with Sindarin, is pretty atrocious but he can repeat the words he hears in the right combination, if not necessarily the right order.)
If they want to tell him about themselves first, Gord's happy to oblige! "What brings you here?" he mimics, in Sindarin.
"We're heading east from the Shire," Frodo says, truthfully enough. "We wanted to see if Gandalf had been here."
"We're going to Rivendell." It's obvious enough, once you're headed east from Bree. "I need to speak with Elrond - we all do. And you?"
Apologetic shrug. He doesn't have the words to tell them the truth even if he wanted to, which he isn't sure he does yet, because "I've come from the Abyss" probably sounds bad.
He'll mime about praying again, and if no-one stops him, he's going to sit down in an out-of-the-way corner and meditate on his sword for fifteen minutes. Can he get across that they shouldn't interrupt him for a little while? They must have seen a cleric praying before, right?
But one of them has seen an Elf lost in osanwe, which is enough of the same thing for him to shake his head and whisper to the hobbits not to bother him.
Merry, bored, starts picking up some of the fire-blackened stones and finds one with some scratches on it:
|” |||
"Huh, I wonder what left these."
Strider is instantly over peering at it. "That might be a G-rune with thin branches..." he says thoughtfully. "Which could be a sign left by Gandalf - though one cannot be sure. The scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But they could be different - Rangers use runes, and who knows what our new companion here might have done."
"Then - 'G3' - would be a sign Gandalf was here October the Third; that's three days ago now. And also, he was in a hurry, so he had no time to write anything longer or plainer."
He looks around the scorched stones.
"For myself, if it were not for our new companion, I would believe he was here and in danger... The light that we saw in the eastern sky three nights ago comes back to my mind. But he is here no longer; we must now look after ourselves as best we can."
They all stand gazing pensively for a while, around the hilltop and the land around.
Then Gord can finish preparing a spell in peace! Now, who to cast it on? The human stands out but only because he's human. Oh well, any of them can presumably translate, and he's not going to be able to guess at any distrust between them but if there is any then it might be better to be talking to one of the halflings.
"Merry," he says to get the attention of the one whose name he knows, and then offers him his hand in the 'may I cast a touch spell on you' gesture.
The Big Person looks like he's offering him something, but there's nothing in his hand?
Merry comes over, confused, and holds out his hand mirroring him.
Share Language (Hallit)! (Gord says a few unfamiliar words, makes a gesture, and lightly touches Merry's hand.)
"Now we can talk properly. Hello again, I'm Gord. I hope you're willing to translate for the rest of your group, I had to choose someone and the spell lasts for a day and a night."
"Oh, hello! I'm Merry Brandybuck. How come you suddenly speak the Common --"
He suddenly realizes they're not speaking the Common Tongue, and yelps.
Strider, on suddenly seeing Merry speaking in an unknown tongue, concludes that Gord has cast hostile magic on him and jumps forward between him and Gord.
Gord backs up in a defensive stance. "The spell only shared my language with you. I mean you no harm and thought you had agreed to it." He'd prayed for a spell and clearly offered to cast it on him!
"You can do that with magic --"
Merry pauses and repeats in Westron. "You can just make me speak a new language with magic!?"
... at least he's speaking normal Westron again???
Aragorn glances back at him with concern while keeping an eye on Gord. He says (in Westron, since Merry doesn't speak Sindarin (or at least he didn't two minutes ago)) "I've never heard of magic doing just that..."
"They're normal cleric spells where I come from. I can understand all languages - that's a different spell, a shorter lived one - but I can't speak in them so I cast this one to let you understand me. It doesn't do anything else - well, you could learn information about the language separately from me speaking it, but it doesn't do anything besides make you know the language for one day."
"Where are we? I seem to have traveled here from far away, and don't recognize any of the place-names you mentioned earlier." The common spells being different reinforces that. At least it really doesn't seem like the Abyss.
"We're at Weathertop - east of the Shire - east of Bree -"
Merry glances around, as if he might see some other familiar landmark to mention. "And, uh, what's a cleric?"
Yeah you already said that --
...um. Is the spell not working right? "A cleric is someone who is granted magic by a god. There are other words for other kinds of mages who also get powers from gods but clerics are the most common. Just now I needed the spell to share my language with you so I prayed to my god for it." Is Merry translating all this for the benefit of the others, Strider looks tense.
Merry is still confused! But he's so confused he doesn't know what to ask next, so - yeah, it's time to translate.
"He says he's got some magic from a 'god' -" (he uses the Hallit word since he's not familiar with the Westron ones it feels like it might vaguely map to) "- and it's pretty common where he's from. And it just let me speak his language just for today but nothing else. And he says he thinks he's from really far away -"
Another question jumps to his mind. He turns back to Gord and asks in Hallit, "Wait, you say you aren't sure how far off you're from? How'd you get here?"
That... sounds concerningly like what Sauron does for some of his servants.
Gord didn't use any cursed objects, or any rituals besides just meditating, so Aragorn isn't stopping him just yet. But he's not really reassured.
He takes a step back, next to Merry.
"Who is this 'god'?" he asks (in Sindarin, repeating the Hallit word Merry used.)
Gord didn't precisely say clerics are common where he comes from! They are, so he's not going to correct Merry about it, but he makes a mental note that he might not be the best translator if the stakes ever get much higher than this.
"I'm not sure how I got here. It didn't feel like a normal spell and I didn't cast anything or see anyone who might have. I'm thinking it might have been a planar rift (*), they're said to exist in the area I was in though I never saw one myself."
To Strider, "my god is called Gorum. He's the Chaotic Neutral god of striving and fighting for what you believe in." Among other things.
(*) 'Plane' is a normal Hallit word, not a loanword or phrase. This is to say you can't figure out what it means by analyzing its structure. What the translation spell makes of it is anyone's guess.
"A 'rift' in a 'plane'? Like... a hole in the burrow's floor that lets you climb down into the cellar?"
(Also Merry repeats about this "Gorum" person to Strider.)
"I've never heard of this 'Gorum'..." Unless... he can think of at least two people that description might fit... "What's he 'neutral' between? Does he ever go by the name 'Tulkas'? Or 'Sauron'?"
"I suppose. Except I fell through and it closed behind me and I can't easily climb back out."
To Strider, "I haven't heard either of those names but gods have different names in different countries. He's Neutral between Good and Evil, that's what 'Chaotic Neutral' means in this language" - he's not keeping close enough track of the translation to say if Merry misworded that somehow - "and His symbol is a giant-sized sword stuck in a mountain, at least back home. What gods are worshipped around here?"
"Oh no! So you can't get home?
"And - what sort of person doesn't care about good and evil?"
Merry makes a face while translating, and adds that addendum.
Strider frowns and shakes his head. "I've heard that from all too many people who just want to be left alone. But for someone powerful enough to give people magic... If someone that powerful told me that, I would think he wasn't telling me the truth."
Gord likes these people! They jumped straight past "so where do you actually come from" and on to the philosophical and moral implications of getting power from gods and trusting Pharasma's alignments about morals.
"Well, I don't know His mind. In my experience, most Chaotic Neutral people do care about Good and Evil, often quite a lot. It's just that they end up doing some of both, sometimes by accident or while pursuing other goals, so they can't be said to be entirely Good or entirely Evil. But that's people logic, it's not as if I can talk to Him to ask about it. I don't think He's telling me the truth, exactly, because He isn't telling me anything, He just gives me magic as long as I don't do anything he hates. That's how most of the gods are." And it's much preferable to the Lawful ones who do actually tell people what to do.
"I don't think He wants to be left alone. I'm not sure what I said to give you that impression. Gorum likes striving and growing stronger and fighting for what you believe in. He seeks out righteous fights and he gives power to mortals who do the same."
"Oh, so that's how people turn out Neutral? That makes sense!" Merry laughs. "I guess most of us hobbits would be Neutral, then."
That's when Sam shows up, puffing from his run up the slope of Weathertop.
He still doesn't totally trust Strider, and now a second Big Person is up there with them too. He's been worried ever since they vanished over the lip of the hilltop... and then he heard a hobbit's yelp, pressed Bill the Pony's bridle into Pippin's hands, and ran all the way up there.
He's relieved to find everyone looking fine, and Merry even laughing.
"What happened?" he exclaims. "Who is he?"
"His name's Gord. He's a wizard, or something like that - he says someone named Gorum gave him magic. And he used some magic to let Merry speak his language!"
Frodo looks excited but also dubious.
(The Westron word 'wizard' translates as 'mage'.)
"I can't do it again today, I prepared different spells. I could give it to more people tomorrow, but not all of you at once - not for twenty-four hours, anyway, I could do all of you for a few hours."
"What gods are worshipped around here? If I don't recognize any of them, then I'm probably not from this world." (The Hallit word, like the English one, isn't precise enough to mean 'planet'.)
Merry answers in Hallit without bothering to translate. "I don't think we worship any 'gods'. Unless the king counts; we invoke him sometimes? At least, not us hobbits.
"Er - there isn't an actual king around here, not since before my grandfather was born. But we still name him at the Free Fair and put him on our coins and things."
No gods, no kings? How very Rahadoumi of them. Strider was firmer on the idea of gods, though, so Gord isn't going to just take Merry at his word.
"Worship can be very different, depending on the god and the people. But it's always about being and doing the kinds of things that god cares about and wants to see more of in the world. Whether that's singing, painting, fighting evil, perfecting yourself, fighting for a cause, enforcing the law, trading, travelling to see the world, selflessly helping others, getting rich, raising your family - there are many gods out there. And then they choose people who are, or are doing, what that god likes to see, and give them magic, and those are clerics. Sometimes the gods intervene themselves or send messengers, but that's very rare in comparison - a historical event, not an everyday one."
"Can you keep translating for the others? Strider looks like he had something to say," he nudges.
Merry purses his lips. "Oh, like the god's your patron?... And he just wants more painting or traveling or something in the world?..."
But then, yes, he translates. "Gord wants to know what gods are worshipped here. I said I didn't know of any, except maybe The King, but he says worship can be any sort of thing about doing the kind of things the god wants to have done..." (He gives a more-or-less faithful translation of the rest of the paragraph.)
Strider has to suppress a chuckle.
"There are the Valar, the Powers, but few except the Elves worship them. Manwë Aran Einior King of the Skies, Varda Elbereth Star-Kindler, Ulmo Ylmir Lord of the Waters, Tulkas whom I thought might be the same as your Gorum... And there is also the One, All-Father, who made them. He hardly ever clearly acts in the world, though Gandalf thought he might have had a hand in some recent events. And none of them give magic the way your gods do."
He pauses and frowns. "But some worship the Dark Lord, Sauron of Mordor. He... sometimes does pretend to give magic, though it almost always hurts the person he gives it to."
(If Gord is watching very closely, he'll see Strider's eyes flicker to Frodo at that last line.)
Hmm.
"I wouldn't be surprised to hear of gods with such names and domains, back home. Desna is the Chaotic Good goddess of stars and safe travel and helping strangers. And She likes butterflies. Gozreh are the dual gods of sky and storm and nature; people who live in and care for the wilderness often worship them."
"And yes, there are Evil gods too, almost as many as Good ones. They're fighting each other, and their mortal followers are often fighting. I'm not sure if I should tell you about the Evil ones, if you don't know them already."
"But our gods all give out magic. Or, I suppose maybe there are many who don't, and that's why I haven't heard of them. They don't live among us, and I'm sure they do other things at home, but giving out magic and maybe visions is how they usually interact with mortals."
"I don't know how a world without clerics works. Do your gods do anything? Do only wizards have magic? Are you sure this goes for your whole world, and not just this country or continent?" Although it's hard to imagine how powerful clerics could stay contained to a single continent.
Merry makes a face at the evil gods. "Well, I've never seen any gods do anything. And it isn't just the wizards who have magic; the Elves have it too! And also - er -"
Frodo looks thoughtful. "Bilbo once said that the Elves said the power of Elbereth was in all the starlight, and the power of Ulmo in all the rivers. I don't know about the rest of the world.. The Undying Lands aren't really part of the world anymore, are they?"
Strider shakes his head. "Not anymore. I haven't traveled through all the world, but I've traveled a long ways, and I haven't seen any 'clerics' with given magic except the Dark Lord's servants. There are still a few Elves who learned magic from the Valar, but they learned it from them like a pupil from a teacher."
"We call people who learn to do magic on their own by studying with other mages wizards. They have to be very cunning and study a lot, to understand how the magic actually works, and they can teach others or even invent new spells. I can only use what Gorum gives me, and I understand what it does because He gives me that understanding too but I have no idea how it does it. There are many more clerics than wizards where I come from, though, because few people are smart enough and have the time and money and opportunity to study with another wizard."
Strider certainly looks and moves like a trained warrior. If he's traveled a lot, he must be a seasoned adventurer. It would be slightly weird for someone like not to carry anything even a bit magic on them. And most magic items are made by wizards, not clerics.
Half on instinct, half on a whim, Golrd casts detect magic. Are they all as unmagical as they claim to be?
"Can anyone learn magic like that!?" Merry exclaims, before (at Frodo's sharp look) translating.
"I have learned some things from the Elves," Strider says thoughtfully, "but very little I would properly call 'magic'. I wonder if magic works differently where you are from. Though, your translation spell still works..."
(He has a magical sword on him, and a few slightly-magical things in a pouch, but nothing else.)
The hobbits all have magical daggers... and one of them has a very, very magical ring in his pocket.
Aaagh that thing is blinding! He almost flinches before he can suppress the reaction, but his eyes dart involuntarily to Frodo's pocket before he drags them back to Strider's face and dismisses the spell.
What in the Nine Hells was that thing?! Gord saw a Wardstone once and it wasn't as bright! His body automatically goes into fight readiness, even as he (also automatically) tries his best to suppress any tells.
He was prepared to see a few magic swords and daggers, sure, something that might mean they'd been holding out on him, or that was maybe a misunderstanding, or just understandably keeping back some of their abilities from a stranger.
He wasn't mentally prepared to see a halfling walking around with an artifact in his pocket. Unless it's - a spell meant to blind people who cast Detect Magic?
"...anyone can learn, in principle," he says, trying to conceal his shock. "Enough for little cantrips, like this - Light!" His sword lights up. Maybe he shouldn't have drawn attention to his sword? But he had it in hand already.
"But like I said, most people aren't smart enough to learn it. And the few wizards who are looking for students choose the brightest ones, the ones who might become the strongest wizards one day. So most people never get a chance to try, either, unless they're so rich they can pay a wizard to tutor their children."
Oh, someone is looking at the Ring? The Ring will be paying attention. Even closer attention than it was already paying, with its Lord's servants nearby.
"Oh wow, can I learn how to do magic like that!? How smart is smart enough? I've been studying the family books and account-books!"
(When his family was able to make him, that is - but he's not going to mention that now that studying might lead to something fun.)
Gord's not sure he ought to confront someone who has an artifact in their pocket, but dissembling might be seen as hostile. He hasn't done anything hostile yet, only looked at them. Magic clearly exists in this world, they all have normal magic swords, so they can hardly be upset when a mage notices that they're openly carrying.
So: don't frame this as a confrontation, and tamp down his fight instincts. He was surprised, not preparing to attack them. (The two can appear similar in a veteran adventurer of the Wound border.)
"Whatever you have in your pocket," he says to Frodo, "is either more powerful than a fifty-foot gemstone that can stop a balor lord (*), or a cunning trap to distract and blind mages. I couldn't help but stare. If you don't actually want people to notice, put it in a lead box."
"...I can't tell how much you could learn, I'm not a wizard and can't teach anyone. You need to find a wizard to ask to learn from."
(*) Large demon, fire and shadow, wings, wields a sword and a whip. You know the type.
Merry whispers in shock, "He - he noticed the Ring. Somehow. And how powerful it is."
Frodo's hand goes reflexively to cup over his pocket, and he wishes for a moment he could just slip it on and get away.
"H-how'd you do it? Another spell? And what're you going to do about it?"
"One of the most trivial spells that every single mage knows, wizard or cleric, is to detect magic. It only works for a few minutes, so people don't always bother, but it doesn't cost anything and some people have it up all the time. A wizard can usually tell what the magic item does, but I'm no wizard."
"I'm not going to do anything about it, or tell anyone else; I don't even know what it is. I'm just telling you, as a courtesy, that it's extremely noticeable and if your intent was to conceal it then you should do that. I'd further warn you that whatever it is looks very powerful, and is likely to make you a target just because of that, but it sounds like you already know that?" He cocks an eyebrow.
"...also, you all have visibly magic swords and daggers but they're an ordinary amount of magic, same as mine, and no-one would bat an eye at it. Just for comparison."
"Huh!" Merry's hand goes to his dagger. His magic dagger. Maybe he should've guessed that a Barrow-blade would be magic, but he hadn't guessed it. "I... it isn't ordinary. And - yeah, the Ring makes us a target. That's why we haven't been on the Road in the first place." He pats the mud-stains on his pants.
And then, suddenly remembering, he translates to the Common Tongue. "He says he's not going to do anything about it and he doesn't know what it is except that it's powerful - well, I guess I told him sort of --"
"Then don't mention it."
He turns to Gord.
"Please do not tell anyone. We have been trying to keep it secret... despite some lapses before now."
"I won't. ...you should really put it a lead box." Because Frodo is carrying an artifact and he is carrying it around in his pocket. Gord would offer his, except he got rid of it after he made third circle and got that Divination-spoofing spell.
And it's apparently a magic ring, but he's not wearing it. Maybe they thought it would be easier to detect if he wore it, and whatever it does isn't usually useful?
He tries to put the matter out of his mind; it's really none of his business and he's glad the matter was peacefully resolved. "So, um. You said the local gods don't normally choose clerics, except the Dark Lord, but they taught some people wizardry, and all your mages were wizards? What do you do for healing?" If the local wizards can heal, maybe he should just discard all his assumptions.
"He says put it in a lead box... why!? And, uh, we didn't bring any of those."
(Then he translates the other question.)
"Huh..." Frodo's hand is twitching absent-mindedly just under the pocket where the Ring sits. "Uncle Bilbo put it in a box in a trunk in his study once. The box might've been lead? But he took it out long ago... and I didn't ever put it back there myself after he gave it to me.
He stares off into the sky. "I don't think the wizards learned their magic from the Valar? Though come to think of it, I don't have any idea where Gandalf did come from. He's older than... than the Old Took, older than the Shire I think..."
"Yes, much older than the Shire."
He does know where Gandalf is from, but Gandalf doesn't want it brought out as a point of curiosity or undue attention, so he's not going to say it now.
"And he can heal, but no better than the Elves - though it's true the best of the Elf-healers learned their art in Valinor or from people who learned it in Valinor."
"Because then it can't be easily detected," Gord repeats patiently. "And if someone scries it they'll just see darkness. ...actually, you should put it in a regular box, or a good bag that doesn't let any light in, just for that."
That's the second time they brought up Elves having learned magic in Valinor (from gods?). Some people in Golarion say that elves came from another world; probably they did here too, and that place is called Valinor. And their wizards can heal - maybe not as well as clerics, they probably have spells like the Chelish one but they wouldn't have channels. The Gandalf they've been looking for is one such (old) elf wizard.
It doesn't seem like they know enough about magic (and, by inference, the wider world) to be the best sources of information. On the other hand, if he'd landed on some truly random people they might not know anything beyond their village, so really he had good luck there, even if they're behaving like rookie adventurers who inexplicably decided to start in middle-age. (He's reserving judgement about Strider, and the fourth hobbit he hasn't met yet.)
"So - I'd like to go home, but I can't do it myself, not yet anyway. So I'll be looking for powerful mages to help me; I do have magic enough I could probably trade for it, and someone might be interested in my knowledge of another world. At home I'd look for clerics," because he needs to start by plane shifting to Elysium, "but here I guess I'll have to settle for wizards. Do you have advice on who I should approach and where?" He obviously isn't going to just take their word for it, but right now he is on a hill literally in the middle of nowhere with no other leads except a road that probably leads somewhere. "Actually, can you draw me a local map?"
"Well, I've got it in my pocket now, and you could still see it," Frodo says when Merry translates.
"And we're going to Rivendell, where Elrond lives." He shrugs. "I don't know anyone better than him, since we haven't been able to find Gandalf. And... I don't think I ever had any maps beyond the Shire, except for the ones Bilbo left me, and they only show the Misty Mountains and the places beyond there..."
Just then, Pippin comes running up over the edge of the hill.
He started getting curious and impatient almost as soon as Sam left him with the pony, and it wasn't too long before he decided that they very well might need a fourth Hobbit, given that one never could predict what might get into Big People's heads.
So, he tied the pony's bridle to an old branch, unlimbered his dagger just in case he'd need it, and started up the hill.
But he couldn't keep running all the way, so he started looking around, and then...
"I saw them!" he calls as soon as he's in sight. "They're here! On the Road!"
"You saw who?"
Aragorn quickly looks over the whole hilltop, as if ready for enemies to come any moment.
"Y-yeah," Merry says nervously. "They tried to kill us in Bree - they're sent by the Dark Lord -"
None of them can see them (or the Road) from where they're standing, but when Strider goes to the far south edge of the hilltop (crouching almost to a crawl so he's less visible), he hisses, "I see them. Five now."
"If you want to fight them I'll depart or stand aside; if you want something else, I don't know enough about this world to tell which side to help but maybe you can convince me quickly - tell someone in your party to summarize, I can still understand all of you when you talk -"
In fact his Comprehend Languages will soon run out, probably before he can talk to these Riders to get their side of the story, which is a pretty good argument for not getting involved in any actual fighting. He might be strong enough to carry the fight, but neither side knows that and neither does he, not for sure, and 'I am a fourth circle of Gorum' isn't legible around here. If the halflings don't want to fight then he'd like to help them but not unconditionally or indefinitely; maybe he can fend off these Riders until morning, nonlethally, and talk to them then?
Gord crawls the last few feet next to Strider to get a look.
He sees black specks on the road below - Black Riders on black horses. They're standing still next to each other at the foot of the hill, as if conferring, or waiting for some thing or some move of the people on the hilltop.
"You don't know -- how can you not know -" Pippin exclaims, heedless of how he'd never heard of the Black Riders himself a month ago.
"Gord's from really far away, Pippin!" he exclaims. "I don't think you can guess he knows anything!"
Then he turns to Gord. "They tried to kill us in Bree! And knocked me out with terror!"
"They are sent from Mordor," he says flatly, "and they fight with terror as well as blades."
Then, remembering that he's speaking to one of the few people in Middle-Earth who's never heard of Mordor, he adds, "From the Dark Lord Sauron, to kill us or worse."
Gord has no more idea who the Dark Lord Sauron is than about Mordor. As far as epithets go, and by demonic standards, Dark Lord is practically wholesome.
They're not telling him why these Black Riders are after them, or asking for his help, or even saying they don't want to fight them, per se. Fair enough. He does have a selfish reason not to want to leave, because these people are his only source of information right now, but if they're attacked while he's there it will be much harder to convince the attackers that he's a neutral party.
...wait. "Merry. Translate what I said." He picked a good target for Share Language, because Merry speaks unguardedly, but clearly not the best one for coordination during a possible fight.
"He says - he says -" Merry gulps, and then repeats in the Common Tongue, "if we want to fight them he'll go away or stand back - and he doesn't know enough about the world to tell whether to help us or them unless we convince him - will they even let him stand back? I guess they didn't kill everyone at Bree, but -"
"They left people alive because they were after bigger prey, or so they thought."
Aragorn purses his lips. It goes against his instincts to tell a stranger anything about the Ring, but Gord already saw that it was magical - But then he doesn't know how Gord would respond to any hint of "they aren't explicitly trying to kill us," and the only truthful way he has to answer that is by explaining how the Ring would increase Sauron's power to kill or tyrannize everyone. And saying that - saying anything to tempt Gord after the Ring himself - might ruin everything.
"What do you want to know!? Those Black Riders have been chasing us ever since we left Bag End - they've been putting magic on Master Frodo and terrifying us all - they tried to kill us - I don't know what they did to poor Fatty Bolger -" Sam throws up his hands.
"I don't see how fighting with fear-spells is worse than just stabbing you to death. You say they tried to do that too, but frankly you don't seem likely to have fought them off with your daggers." Not unless those riders are a bunch of first-circle wizards afraid to ride into melee - no, focus. Gord crawls back from the cliff-edge to where he can stand up and fix Merry with his glare.
When Gord said he'd leave, they didn't say they'll go after you when you're alone. The Black Riders have been chasing them for a while, but not attacking others. If he leaves now he should be fine.
These halflings are acting like they're still under a fear spell. Gord's tempted to round them off to civilians - noncombatants who don't want to fight and should be given the benefit of the doubt - except civilians don't normally go around uniformly armed with magic daggers. Maybe they're just rich, but then where are their servants, their guards? Or - no, he shouldn't assume; maybe magic weapons are plentiful and cheap in this world, and any real fighters would be dripping with magic items.
Merry doesn't look like a real fighter, unless he's a very good actor, but everyone has to start somewhere. Gord has Remove Fear prepared, but it'd be silly to spend it now and not during the potential fight itself.
"Translate this. You don't want to tell me why they're after you. That's your right. But I won't fight on your side just because they're Black and scary. If I help you, and you kill them, it's as if I've killed them myself." He's not going to explain how fighting purely in defense makes the fight more dangerous, he's already straining Merry's capacity for translation.
"In a few minutes my spell for understanding all tongues will run out. Only you will be able to translate for me, until tomorrow morning. I'm inclined to come back in the morning, heal any survivors, and maybe try talking to the Black Riders then and hear their side of the story. Do you not want to fight them? How could I trust you not to kill them, if I help you defend yourselves? Translate exactly what I've just said." And give the rest of his party a last chance to say something more useful.
"He says he won't help us fight without a reason more than they're black and scary - we haven't said why they're after us - he doesn't see the difference between fear-magic and daggers - and -"
Merry's impatience with translating rather than responding runs out.
"We didn't try to fight back - we hid! I picked up this dagger a few days ago and I still haven't used it for more than cutting our way through the marsh!"
Frodo respects how Gord wants a reason... even though he's strange enough that the reasons that make sense to them somehow don't to him.
"We've been trying to avoid these Black Riders; it's not like we've been using magic or daggers, and... I don't know how fighting back is going to work, unless Strider's hiding something, but we can't just let them kill us this time."
Gord has no idea how dangerous the Black Riders might be. It sounds like they could have killed this party and didn't, several times; they might be herding it somewhere with their fear spells; but if a fight develops and they see a real combatant on the halflings' side, he doesn't know what they're capable of. And there are five of them; even if all they have is longbows (magic longbows?) they'd have the advantage.
He doesn't know why they're after this party. Not wanting to fight a losing battle does not necessarily make the halflings good or righteous. Perhaps they did something to the riders that they seek to avenge; perhaps they are planning something that the riders seek to avert; perhaps they are only waiting to link up with their stronger allies (the wizard Gandalf?) before turning the tables on the riders.
Frodo has a magic ring of great power, but the Riders don't seem to be after it or they'd have taken it already. Hiding only goes so far, and a wizard who can cast fear spells ought to be able to cast Detect Magic and Locate Object too.
If Gord was infinitely powerful, he'd protect them until morning, with no casualties on either side, and then talk to the Riders (after they'd seen him help their enemies) and decide which side to help, if any. But he's alone in a strange world and up against unknown enemies who outnumber him five to one - he's not really thinking of this party as combatants anymore - and this plan is insane and frankly suicidal. He can make a very good showing for himself if pressed, but that means less than nothing when the enemy is unknown.
He doesn't have a spell prepared that would let them all hide for the night, like a wizard's rope trick; he'd have to actually fortify and defend a position, and these people aren't even competent to tell him what their enemies are really capable of when pushed to it. He has his daily nondetection, and other tricks to help him sneak away, but they're only enough for one person; he was traveling alone and didn't prepare any party buffs, and the only thing he has that would affect them all is that useless mass disguise other that only works for a few rounds. He has his bag but only one air bubble and even that only lasts for a few minutes.
Even if he led them away from here, he has no idea how the Riders have been tracking this party and the middle of nowhere, in the dark, would be worse to fight in than a prepared position.
He really, really ought to sneak away now and return tomorrow morning.
Also, he can only talk to Merry and Merry is not a good translator, because he's scared but also because he's just - untrained and not being efficient or focused. A scared civilian, afraid of an upcoming fight.
...
"How did you hide, if they're wizards? Can you do it again? The five of them against the five of you seems like a doomed battle, if they know how to use weapons and you only picked up a dagger a few days ago because you were scared."
"Do you know how they tracked you? Do they have an advantage in the dark, or will they wait to attack in the morning?"
"We... hid? Under some bushes, the first time. And then another time we crossed the river and stranded one of them on the shore..."
He turns to translate. "He's asking how they tracked us, and whether they've got an advantage in the dark or if they'll wait till morning, and he says this seems like a doomed battle..."
Aragorn give a nod. "Good questions. They'll attack at night - like most wraiths, they're stronger then. Maybe they're waiting for that, or maybe for the others of them - there are Nine in all, though I do not know where the others are."
"Hiding under the bushes didn't work," Sam says, ignoring the part he doesn't like thinking about to reply to the part he does understand. "The Black Rider was sniffing us out until the Elves came and scared him away! Or, maybe, sniffing out Frodo's Ring --"
He suddenly realizes what he said and claps his hands over his mouth.
It's not very surprising that this has to do with the ring artifact.
...they are wraiths? And they failed to mention this, before? And... they hid from wraiths under a bush? If he remembers correctly, wraiths are the kind of undead you flat out cannot hide from, at short range anyway.
Five (or nine!) wraiths, at night, is not an easy fight.
"Explain 'wraiths' and their abilities," he says urgently. "They're incorporeal undead? Flying, afraid of the sun? How and why are they riding horses - never mind that. Do they drain you with a touch, do people killed by them become wraiths, do they have extraordinary senses to find living people? Any other abilities I didn't mention? Remember I'm from another world, the word 'wraith' may not translate exactly or your wraiths might be different."
Gord really, really hates intelligent undead that turn their victims into others like themselves.
Finally, Gord looks and sounds concerned. And his questions aren't bad.
"Bodiless undead - yes. Or, they have bodies, but not material as we do. They can smell the blood of living things, and... drain, yes... strength and willpower not just with touch but with closeness if they bend their will to it. And they can smell the blood of living people and -" (Sam mentioned the Ring, so...) "- sense the pull of Frodo's ring. Their master, the Dark Lord, commanded them to bring it to him.
"They have less of the normal sense of sight that we do - but their horses have it, and they can somehow see using them.
"People they kill... no, not normally. The Dark Lord does have daggers that turn people into wraiths... but I have not seen them used in many years."
"How weakened are they during the day, can they drain people then?"
Is the sun far up enough that if he takes off running right now he can reach them in daylight?
Aragorn frowns in thought. "I do not think so. At least, I have not heard of them doing it..."
"Then I'm going to attack them right now. Better chances than waiting for nightfall. I can hide myself long enough to sneak up on them, can't hide you too but if you come you could distract them from a distance, are you coming?"
Aragorn looks between Gord and the hobbits.
"I do not know where the other four wraiths are - they might be sneaking up.
"How are you planning to attack them? Fire will repel them for a time, or flowing water - there's a small stream just east of here, if you need to retreat - simple steel without spells will do next to nothing -"
Pippin is looking almost eager at Gord's plan. He remembers how Fatty Bolger stayed behind to decoy the Black Riders...
"Distract them? How?" he bursts out.
"I do have spells, and a magic sword. Clerics are the strongest counter to undead, even though I didn't prepare for this fight at all. If I need to retreat, well, I just hope they really can't fly faster than I can run. And if they sneak up on us at night I can't save us if I don't notice them in time, so we have to take the risk while it's still daylight. If I damage them enough, maybe kill some of them, hopefully the rest will be wary enough not to attack at night."
"You can distract them by being either a nuisance or a juicy target or both while I sneak up on them, if you have a ranged weapon you could try shooting their horses - really I meant Strider, he's faster than you are and might be able to run away. I can't guarantee you'd survive it, if one of them goes after you even after I start my attack."
"Err..." He doesn't have a bow, and he doesn't like the sound of being a juicy target.
Aragorn shakes his head. "I never trained with the bow."
He's several times wished he did, but when he was young, the Elves were all so much better than him that he didn't have the dedication to get really good at it.
"And your plan... It would work if they didn't know the Ring was here. With it... it might work." He holds up his hand in salute. "We will be in the hollow down there when you return, most likely. Good luck."
The only alternative is to run away and abandon these people to their fate. Gord isn't exactly decided on risking his life for their sake, but putting down a bunch of wraiths is risking one's life for the sake of everyone in the world.
Nondetection. He doesn't think it will help but now's not the time to be stingy with resources. Disguise self, in case some of the wraiths get away and bear a grudge. And he takes off running downhill; he doesn't have time to be maximally stealthy all the way and he's hoping they can't actually see him while he's far enough away, horses or no horses.
Can he approach them stealthily to where it'd take him five minutes to close the distance running, without them seeming to notice, while actually being in a tearing hurry?
Well, how far does he want to go out of his way?
If he sets out down the side of the hill where the hobbits and Strider came up, he'll quickly find a hidden path leading back towards the front face of the hill (toward the Road where the... six wraiths, now... are sitting on their horses) some of the way down.
But only some of the way. By about halfway down, he'll be more in the open with only bushes for cover.
Gord needs to get to them while it's daylight.
He can go invisible for eight minutes but he doesn't know if it will help; Golarion wraiths can sense living creatures nearby. The invisibility could also work for a getaway, if he needs one later and can get out of their live-creature-sensing range.
...if they can fly faster than he can run, and his channels don't work and they end up chasing him, then he's fucked. But channels only harm undead, so he doesn't have to check if they're really wraiths before using them, and it really ought to be enough. He could just approach them openly and then channel at the last moment, but they might ride away if they see him coming. (He really hopes they can't fly.)
So, he'll try to approach them as stealthily as he can without risking it being dark before he reaches them - if they can only see at a distance using their horses then this might actually work? - and then, if they let him get close enough, cast invisibility and minute buffs and close the rest of the distance.
This isn't a great plan but it's the best one he's got. None of his defensive abilities or resources work against incorporeal undead; turtling up on the hill went out the window the moment wraiths came into play.
The wraiths must have split up while he was on the way down - there're only four of them there before he gets close.
One of them seems to be facing (for what it's worth) in his general direction, but he hasn't moved recently. In fact, none of them have moved at all, nor have their horses except for the slight wind blowing their cloaks and manes.
So if they have sensed him, they're not giving any signs of it.
If two of them already split off (and where did they go so quickly, the horses surely can't fly) and another three are unaccounted for, then most of them might strike at the hill-top while these four draw him off.
...but they won't strike until it's dark, and this is still his only chance to take out some of them in relative safety. It wouldn't help anything if he turned back now. (He does check whether Strider is desperately waving for him to come back from the top of the hill.)
So he closes to a few minutes' running distance, ducks into the best cover he can find at that range - some bushes that might at least obscure his casting - and casts invisibility, protection from evil, remove fear, and runs towards them at a slight angle, as if to pass them from the right.
Do they track his movement, or do anything else?
They might not see him... but the Ringwraiths can smell a Man running toward them. He doesn't smell like a Ranger, or one of the natives of Bree, but he's most likely a Man.
A moment after he starts running, the closest wraith shrieks a piercing cry, one that they know will put fear into the hearts of all but the bravest of Men or Halflings.
But to their surprise, he keeps running without fear! Two of the wraiths gallop toward him.
That's a problem; he wants to catch all four of them in a channel.
A dire wolf appears, as large as one of the horses. It stalks towards them with menacingly, growling, not breaking out into a full run so as not to scatter them. Do they turn back?
They... draw rein at the suddenly-appearing wolf. It doesn't smell like any wolf or warg they've smelled before, but it's pretty clearly a wolf!
One of them circles around, to try to cut off his retreat should he retreat.
The other hisses at the wolf in Black Speech, in case it can understand, with magic to make his words convincing: "Kill the man!"
Gord's Comprehend is still up so he catches that. Do the wraiths have magic to command beasts, but no detect magic to see that they're summoned ones?
Aaargh, they're so close, the other two wraiths are just a couple of minutes away. He needs to make these ones think he's enough of a threat to make them regroup, or call the others to help them, but if he channels they might just scatter.
Would making them scatter, and only wounding or (at best) downing two wraiths, be a victory? A victory here is making them afraid to attack tonight. Gord will be better prepared tomorrow.
Getting only two of them... doesn't feel like a victory, not one that'd make the other four too frightened to attack during the night.
It's unclear how much good the invisibility is even doing him, at this point. Gord casts Lesser Mirror Image, runs towards the closest rider and tries to hit it with his sword, like the dumbest charge out of stories.
The wolf is going to prevent the other rider (or at least its horse) from interfering with this, or running off.
Summoned beasts? The Ringwraiths haven't even heard of such a thing.
Not having normal eyes, they don't even notice the mirror image except through their horses.
The wraith Gord is charging pulls out his own sword. It's invisible to mortal eyes, and half-intangible, but he wills it firm for long enough to parry - and he was a good swordsman in his mortal days. He'll parry and try to cut Gord off from the wolf as he charges. He won't stab him back; his sword is no Morgul-knife and would probably evaporate if he tried.
Gord can't see the enemy's sword, but he can tell when his own sword is parried by what at least feels like a metal weapon. If he keeps at it for a few rounds, can he manage to hit the wraith and force it to reconsider?
The wraith not trying to strike back with its invisible (?) ghost-touch sword is weird, but maybe it's fighting very defensively for some reason, or maybe there's no invisible sword and it's some kind of parrying-only spell. Gord tries to hit its leg, on the principle that it ought to be stuck in its stirrup and his greatsword might have better reach than the wraith (presumably) bending down to defend its leg. He can't see the wraith itself, now that he's close enough to notice that, but it's conveniently wearing visible clothes.
If he can't manage it in a few turns, the summon will expire and the other wraith will presumably attack him, at which point he'll have to settle for channeling at these two.
Gord strikes out at the folds of cloak which look like they're hiding a leg. He feels he hits something - but then when he pulls back his sword, it's smoking and twisting as if he'd stuck it into a very hot fire. It's still magic, and not quite destroyed yet, but it's still twisting and if it twists much more it will be destroyed.
The wraith can damage magic weapons as a reaction?!
If he doesn't get them all with the channels, manages to destroy his sword, and the rest come after him when he's unarmed, then he'll shortly be dead. (By his hand, not theirs.) He has a backup holy symbol in his bag (a tiny one), and a backup mundane sword which is going to be approximately useless. And he might have managed through great effort to become enough of an annoyance to these super-wraiths that they'll bother chasing him if he retreats now.
If you can't retreat, advance.
Gord takes off running towards the two wraiths who stayed behind, in a last-ditch effort to draw all four of them together. If he has to parry with the remains of his sword, well, better it than him.
One of the two wraiths who were fighting him rides after him, but at a slow pace not trying to catch up; the other one stays behind to watch the wolf but follows as soon as it vanishes.
(The wolf just vanished? Was it a magical warg after all? But it's not sunrise - and then why didn't it understand his command?)
The other two wraiths turn at Gord's approach but don't otherwise react.
... And as he runs, his sword continues to twist and shrivel to uselessness as a sword.
...he gets out his backup holy-symbol-on-a-string and wounds it tightly about his wrist. Takes his backup greatsword from his bag of holding. Waits until they're all as close together as they'll let him bring them - he'll practically go into melee range again, for this.
Channel. And he watches them carefully, trying to notice any reaction, if that's at all possible when all he can see are billowing cloaks framed on emptiness.
The Ringwraiths screech at this sudden wave of something invisible that hurts like fire would hurt a living man.
They are hurt, not destroyed - but nor are they yet strong enough that they want to keep facing this or someone who could do this! When he doesn't even have the Ring they are seeking! Raising their hands and shrieking again, they wheel their horses and gallop away east along the Road away from the setting sun.
Gord's primed to sprint after them. He can't keep up with a galloping horse, not and do anything, but he could probably catch one or two with a second channel.
He has a better plan, though: the pair that's closest to each other gets hit with a Confusion. Plenty of range for that.
Time to see if these wraiths fly when their horses are (temporarily) taken out of action. (He really hopes they take their cloaks with them if they do.)
The Ringwraiths are solidly bound to their Lord, and strong in their own right; the Confusion passes over them.
But their horses are normal horses - broken to their task by the cruelty of Mordor, but horses of flesh and blood just the same.
The two horses farthest back rear, and buck, and one lashes out at the other's rider -
- and then the one who struck out at a Ringwraith neighs in surprise and terror, and bucks even harder - and his own rider falls off.
(The other two Ringwraiths keep galloping away.)
Gord keeps running towards them, and channels again when he gets close enough.
Now, do they flee, or do they stand and fight? And how do they flee if they must abandon their horses?
They both screech in pain.
The one who's still horsed tries to master his horse, and - pressing down on its mind as much as he's able through the pain of the fire - manages to at least direct its confused dance away from this strange Man. He's not moving fast enough though - so if the Man makes any other move he's going to have to abandon the horse.
The one who's unhorsed... strikes out at Gord with another ray of fear.
But when that doesn't do anything, he abandons his cloak to fly away. Gord feels a wave of weakening chill, and the cloak settles to the Road in peace.
(With Detect Magic, Gord can see a shadowy wraith rushing away northeast, along the ground; nothing is visible with ordinary eyes. There's no magic in the cloak itself... but there's something inside it that is magical.)
Meanwhile, the horse tries to run, neighs in pain when it finds its leg stiff and weak, and starts hobbling around in confused pain.
Bad news: they can go fully invisible, and move quickly when they do. Strider was right that the horses were just for extra senses; Gord can only hope they'll be unable to attack effectively without them.
Probably good news: they might not be able to fly after all - that one rushed away along the ground. And they can't take their cloaks with them when they're not riding the horses, which implies... Gord isn't sure what, exactly, but when a fleeing foe leaves a magic item behind, one assumes said magic item was empowering them in some way. (Also, Gord just got some magical loot in exchange for his sword, which he still hopes he can rescue with Make Whole.)
So, on balance, it seems that unhorsing these Riders is a good move, as opposed to something that makes them stop sandbagging and swoop down invisibly behind your back where you won't see them coming (he's checking for it now, but he can't keep checking forever). He should press his advantage as much as he can, while they're still in daylight and in disarray.
In which case: go, summoned cheetah! Catch up with the two that galloped away and do your best to maul at least one of their horses so it can't run away from Gord! The nearer wraith will keep another turn before Gord tries to finish it off for good with a third channel, assuming it doesn't decloak and flee before then.
If you've never seen a cheetah before you might mistake it for a species of leopard. Unusually gracile and lean, with a curiously short head and long legs, but ultimately just another medium-sized cat; not nearly as scary as a tiger or lion, and certainly not dire. No danger at all, to a horse that started galloping away three turns ago.
Until what you thought an ambush predator, lazing about in clear sight and definitely not about to ambush anyone, stands up and stretches its long legs and gives you an innocent look, and suddenly it is next to you before you can flinch away.
It's not magical or supernatural; that would be cheating, and beneath it. It is merely extraordinary, the embodiment of raw speed in graceful gleaming fur; a Medium-sized animal that, once an hour, can outrun Shadowfax for a brief glorious moment, and would give Nahar himself a spirited try.
Cheetahs don't normally hunt horses; their hooves are too dangerous, their bodies too massive. A cheetah that is running for its dinner will look for easier prey.
A summoned cheetah, happy to sacrifice its own existence for a chance to tear or break the leg of a galloping horse? That's a different matter.
The Ringwraiths, however, aren't riding Nahar. Or Ancalagon. They're riding, again, well-broken but perfectly natural horses.
Who, perfectly naturally, respond to predators by running away. Fortunately for them, that's exactly what their riders are telling them to do.
Unfortunately for them, they've never before seen a predator this fast.
But the Ringwraiths were once kings, of many places scattered across Middle-Earth.
This one was from Far Harad, and he's seen cheetahs before.
It takes him a few moments to look back and see that the strange Man (another Istar? A sorcerer who's somehow not working for their Lord?) has summoned a cheetah. Who will, plausibly, be fighting on his side? By that time, it's starting to jump into its run -
"Scatter!" he hisses in the Black Speech, and instantly turns off the Road to the north into the shadows of sunset. One of them might still survive and stay horsed.
The other one, half a round later, turns off to the south with a wordless cry to put fear in beasts and persons alike.
Being a summoned creature doesn't make you immune to fear.
But only one of its prey is making scary noises, and it's riding away from the other one. The cheetah leaps on the prey that tried to run north.
The horses left to their own devices would have done better; herd animals know to stick together in the face of the predator. Scattering is leaving the weak to perish.
Meanwhile, Gord advances on the nearer wraith and its confused horse. Can he kill the horse without being attacked by the wraith, and will this wraith also flee if he does?
The wraith waits for Gord to come close - and then jumps off the horse at him. A knife, glistening in the twilight, is in his hand.
...He'll back away, and do his best to evade or parry the knife! Who knows what thing can do. If the wraith insists on following him, he'll channel again.
And if the wraith gives him some space instead, he'll cast the Spiritual Weapon he's been holding in reserve, have it kill the horse, and then bring it back to hack at the wraith. If the wraith can't dispel it and doesn't have spell resistance, it'll do more damage than a single channel anyway.
Gord still wants to see if killing the horse actually makes any difference to the wraith's behavior. Strider said they borrow the horses' senses, but a wraith accurately blocked Gord's first strike when he was invisible and you can't do that with hearing and scent.