Fangorn Forest wasn't an easy place for an elf. But it was beautiful and at times enchanting, provided one knew how to handle a weapon.
Isobel's father, Halir, taught her a long time ago. He was the second son of the dark elf Eöl. Eöl's first son, Maeglin, was infamous for betraying the elves to Morgoth. Although Isobel's adar was innocent of these deeds, he chose a life of nomadic exile rather than live amongst the scorn of the elves.
When Isobel's parents were killed by orcs in the middle of the third age, she did not plead entrance into any of the elven realms. Instead she took to the woods alone, eventually making a home in the depths of Fangorn Forest.
In Fangorn she could avoid elves and men altogether and, barring the occasional intrusion of a lost orc or spider that she quickly removed, she was alone and content, free to travel as she wished and do as she pleased.
In those times when she craved elven interaction, she would quietly hike north towards the Celebrant River to watch the march wardens of Lorien from a distance.
Of course she knew they were aware of her, but she never came close enough to pose a threat and require their apprehending her. She had no desire to meet the great Noldor lady who ruled this elven enclave, yet the knowledge that the wardens silently watched her as she skirted around their borders was enough to remind her that she existed outside of her own head.
She did not know that Galadriel and her Sindarin husband Celeborn were aware of this lone elf with the ebony hair and strange silver eyes. They took pity on her, both for her lack of people and for the black mark of her kin. They had long instructed their captain, Haldir, to allow her entry to Lorien should she ever request or require it.
And so the guards watched for her and, on the rare occasion when they caught a glimpse of Isobel moving quickly through the forest, they were entranced by her strange dark beauty and raised their hands to her in passing.
But Isobel, believing she preferred the simplicity of a solitary existence, and ignoring her loneliness, stayed away.
On this night, and in a restless state, she left the protection of Fangorn.
The trees were talking and she sensed a measure of anxiety in their green leaves. Unable to sit still, she decided to head north and find what news she could about the outside world that was affecting her beloved Fangorn.
She packed a few items to trade, should she come across a peddler of clothes and supplies. Tathorn bark to help with healing, and silver thread that she'd been given by an elven seamstress years ago. Other than those items and her weapons, she traveled light.
At night she kept to the shadows where her black hair offered her protection and she slept high above in the trees. In the day, she covered her hair with the hood of her travel cloak to better blend into the green of the forest. Even her sword was black, smithed by her grandfather - one of two swords cast from a meteorite. This sword was Anglachel, the twin of the Anguirel, once wielded by Maeglin on behalf of Morgoth.
Most said that the swords were cursed, but Isobel hoped that one day both her sword and her name would be redeemed.
She had travelled on foot for three days, when she encountered a group of orcs moving north near the edges of Lorien. Stealthily she stalked them, quietly killing those that strayed from the protection of the group even for a moment, hoping to instill enough fear in them to dissuade any murderous intent they may have had around the elven enclave.
She silently stalked them for more than a week, keeping to the shadows, her reflexes quick and light. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse, but she took grim satisfaction in their diminishing number. They started out at 16, now they were down to ten.
She decided to track them as far as Dol Guldur no doubt their intended destination. But she was surprised when they passed Dol Guldur and continued north into Mirkwood.
This gave Isobel pause. Mirkwood was home to many evil beasts, above and beyond these orcs. While she herself had sometimes been confronted with spiders and other dark creatures in Fangorn, she knew Mirkwood had a deeper sickness on it and could not understand why the orcs would travel so far into the forest, and into yet another elven realm - that of King Thranduil.
They must be spies, she reasoned. And, having killed six already, perhaps she could take care of the others before they disturbed the King's borders. It was a grim sport, but one from which she would not turn away. The more orcs she killed, the more elf attacks she prevented. It was not the life she had expected, but at least it was a life of honour.
For three more days, Isobel tracked the orc host west into the heart of Mirkwood and near the banks of the enchanted river. Two more orcs fell to her silent blade.
She knew her situation was growing precarious as the orcs were now actively hunting her, so she kept her distance, but still she followed, more convinced each day that they were set to spy on the elves of Mirkwood, and hoping to find out why. What she would do with this information she was unsure of, but it could be useful in trade to any of the elven lords.
She was crouched under a tree root, holding her breath as two orcs hiked towards her, making their way back to the group. She kept her head low, and focused on the sound of their approaching steps and heavy breathing. Quietly unsheathing both her black long sword and a shorter dagger, she waited for the right moment to pounce on the unsuspecting vile creatures. She stilled when she heard a frightened elven voice pleading amid the course rasping voices of the orcs.
She turned her head slowly as she heard the rest of the company approach from the other direction, obviously alerted by the sound of the desperate elleth in their midst.
Isobel peeked out. The elf stumbled behind the two orcs, filthy in a torn gown. Her wrists were bound and bleeding and her eyes were wide with terror.
"Where did you find it?" growled the company's leader, licking his swollen black lips. The orc leading the elleth laughed and ran his hand roughly over the elf's breasts and torso. The elleth took a step back, as the leader moved towards her, bumping into another orc. "I think she likes you," said the leader with a menacing smile. "Where are her kin?"
"There were only three – we killed one and lost the elfling. But this one we kept, she's ripe. First we play, then we'll have fresh meat tonight!"
The orcs raised their weapons in a cheer as the leader stared lecherously at the prisoner.
Isobel watched the scene, frozen in place. Instead of the face of this unknown elf, she saw the face of her mother whose attack she had witnessed so many years ago.
The sound of the elf's soft weeping brought her back to reality and it was enough.
Leaping from the shadows of her hiding place, she lunged forward and thrust her sword deep into an orc's side, and threw her dagger at a second, hitting him squarely between the eyes. She parried a blow by another orc soldier, and rebounded with a clean thrust into his throat. The three remaining orcs rushed her, weapons drawn. She raised her sword against the first one but the second quickly grabbed her waist and pulled her back into a violent embrace of submission that forced the air out of her lungs. Overwhelmed by the stench of the foul creature, she dropped her sword, and kicking and clawing at her captor, desperately tried to free herself, but to no avail.
The fight was over and Isobel had lost.
The orc forced her on her knees and bent her head down to ground with his foot. The two orcs in front of her sheathed their weapons and smiled, their black teeth rank.
She turned her head and saw that the other elf lay dead on the forest floor. She closed her own eyes and exhaled, thinking about her parents. She was ready to accept her fate. The orc who held her felt her submission. Satisfied that she'd stopped struggling, he raised her back onto her feet.
"Well done boys! We'll cook the dead one and keep this one for fun," said the orc leader leering at her. Suddenly his smile froze and his eyes widened. His partner looked at him in confusion and even the orc holding Isobel loosened his grip a fraction. The leader fell heavily forward on to the forest floor, an elven arrow lodged in the back of his neck. Hope surged through Isobel. Frightened for his own life, her captor let go and Isobel fell back to the ground, amongst a flurry of arrows, swords and orc war cries.
Keeping her head down, she rolled towards the cover of the trees, but a pair of strong arms grabbed her. "Not so fast, you're going nowhere," said a low elven voice.
She looked up into a pair of steely blue eyes and almost cried with relief as he pulled her to her shaking feet. But this was no savior. To her surprise, the elf held her arms tightly behind her, in the same manner the orc had only a moment before. This time she did not struggle. She looked at the scene in front of her, trying to make sense of it. Two more orcs lay dead. Six elven guard surrounded the one remaining orc, the one who had held her prisoner, binding his hands and arms, and two more elves were gently lifting the body of the dead elleth. Beside her body lay Isobel's black sword. The elven captain thoughtfully picked it up. He looked carefully at the hilt, turning it over in his hand, then slowly turned to his face towards Isobel, hatred in his eyes.
Had an orc used her blade to kill the elf? she wondered. Her stomach sank as the captain's look registered in her mind. Surely he doesn't think…
"Bind her and blindfold her, NOW," said the captain.
"No!" she pleaded. "I didn't kill her, I was trying to save her!" She struggled against the elf who held her but his grip was sure. Suddenly the orc, now blindfolded, started to laugh.
"The dark elf killed 'er alright. In league with the Dark Lord she is…"
Isobel's eyes grew wide with alarm as the elves' faces stared at her with disgust and hatred. She froze as she realized that, from the elves' perspective, the orc's accusation looked incredibly convincing.
"It is not true," she said to the captain, her voice rising. "Surely you would not believe an orc over one of your own kind!"
"A dark elf, whose family has a history of helping the Enemy? I know who you are, and no kin of Maeglin is 'one of our own kind'." The captain locked eyes with the elf who held her. "Bind her and gag her if she won't stop talking."
Isobel opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it and remained silent as they bound and blindfolded her. 'Do not panic' she repeated in her in mind, over and over again, as she began to walk, blindly making her way over tree roots and divots, listening to the grunts of the orc being led a few paces behind her. Do not panic, it will resolve in time, do not panic.