'You look splendid,' he said aloud. 'I will risk a brief tale without consulting
Elrond. But quite brief, mind you, and then you must sleep again. This is what happened, as far as I can gather. The Riders made straight for you, as soon as you fled. They did not need the guidance of their
horses any longer: you had become visible to them, being already on the threshold of their world. And also
the Ring drew them. Your friends sprang aside, off the road, or they would have been ridden down. They knew that nothing could save you, if
the white horse could not. The Riders were too swift to overtake, and too many to oppose. On foot even
Glorfindel and
Aragorn together could not with stand all
the Nine at once.
'When the
Ringwraiths swept by, your friends ran up behind. Close to the Ford there is a small hollow beside the road masked by a few stunted
trees. There they hastily kindled fire; for Glorfindel knew that a flood would come down, if the Riders tried to cross, and then he would have to deal with any that were left on his side of the river. The moment the flood appeared, he rushed out, followed by Aragorn and the others with flaming brands. Caught between fire and water, and seeing an Elf-lord revealed in his wrath, they were dismayed, and their horses were stricken with madness. Three were carried away by the first assault of the flood; the others were now hurled into the water by their horses and overwhelmed.'