Chapter 1: The Journey to Mirkwood
The golden leaves were beginning to drop from silvered branches. A light breeze shushed through them, unhindered over the boughs and past them. The moon was setting, and there was a grey-blue tinge on the eastern horizon. The air was as sweet as cool rain, the sky still studded by frosty stars.
A figure perched on one of the tree boughs, watching the light slowly cleave to every reachable place from the east. A fine cloak covered the figure from crouched heels to head, a cloak dappled with dew and untouched by the breeze. The figure did not stir, but remained frozen, staring at the east like a grey memorial statue of some lost warrior or kingdom.
Suddenly, a quiet voice from the iron-grey shadows under the trees. "Enednilwen, are you awake?"
The figure moved, and the hood of the cloak fell back. A dark head was revealed, long raven-black hair falling in a cascade down beyond sight under the mantle. The head turned to look down, and a fair face caught the pallid gleams of dawn. In the translucent face were set two bright eyes the color of the midday sky in summer, and rich pink lips touched by no manmade rouge. From the two small plaits winding their way from the hairline to the nape of the neck, pointy ears protruded as though they had strained themselves to listen too long and had formed their peaks.
"A storm is coming," she responded to the voice below the trees. She was an elleth, a she-elf. "It is very far away."
"Then let's go. I'd like to be to King Thranduil's domain by nightfall." A new figure emerged into the growing daylight, owning the voice that was speaking. Another elf maiden, this one a little older than the first, and looking as though she was her twin only with emerald-green eyes. She was sheathing a short sword at her hip and had a bow and quiver strapped between her shoulderblades. She gazed up expectantly at her companion and stood patiently waiting for her to come down.
"Someone is eager this morn," said the first she-elf amusedly, quickly climbing down the tree and leaping off into the wet grass and yellowing ferns. "It must be all that Númenor blood in you, Eruialiwen."
The second elleth scoffed, watching the first gather up her quiver and bow and a small grey-green sack. "You have it too, Enednilwen," she said.
"Yes," Enednilwen said, "but I'm not after the fair prince of Mirkwood. "
Eruialiwen tilted up her head, her dawn-stained face suddenly bright pink. "Legolas is not the reason why I need to go into Mirkwood," she said, her composure defying her embarrassment.
"You mean not the only reason," Enednilwen countered with a grin. "But the main reason."
Eruialiwen frowned, her emerald eyes slightly narrowing, but she said nothing and turned to the still-starlit west. Raising up to her fullest height, as though encouraged by the dying nighttide, she put a step forward and quickly set forth in the dewy brush. Her sister, still grinning, quickly followed after her. They said nought to one another, but were silent as the dawn as it rose ever slowly and tried to escape the coming storm, however long it would be for it to overtake the sun. There was not a hint whatsoever of turbid whether, but both she-elves could feel it on their skin, in their blood, hear it in their ears as faintly as a mosquito walking across a pond. It made their hearts pound behind their breasts: it was always exciting to be caught out in a storm, no matter what the season.
Finally, the golden-pink sun clambered overtop the hills to look down on the blue-green plain. Birds began their morning praises, and every now and then a stag and his doe would emerge from the shadows to graze in the open. The stags would look up as the elf sisters went by, keeping superficial watch as their mates calmly ate, for elves and beasts usually did not hurt one another. And a hunting elf never allowed its victim to have warning before it died.
"Talawen, Ainacalion, and Lothatal should join us soon," Eruialiwen said, finally breaking the silence as they leaped over broken-down boulders in their path. "Since they are on horseback, it shall not be long before we hear the hoofbeats. I hope they brought our horses so our journey might be faster. I haven't ridden Merian since two days before we left Rivendell." Her voice became wistful every time she glanced at the deer; she imagined they were horses and that the biggest stag was her snow-grey stallion, Merian.
"I'd rather walk," said Enednilwen vehemently, "but it would be wise to ride to Mirkwood before this storm comes. I don't like the feel of it. Not at all. If this wasn't so important to Elrond, we shouldn't be going at all." She let her cloak fall behind her shoulders, revealing her brown and green tunic and leggings and soft brown knee-boots. A sword, not unlike her sister's, was belted to her hips in a leather scabbard decorated in elvish wording. "Despair the wicked, for the blade of Tirindail shall shine through them and lay them slain!"
Eruialiwen also let her cloak fall back to let the blushing morning see her plain green tunic and grey leggings. "You may fear the storm, but I do not. Even if I was going alone, I'd still be going."
"Because of Legolas," said Enednilwen.
Eruialiwen began to say something, but fell silent and went back to concentrating on her long strides. The morn was fast growing clearer and bluer, with the breeze steadily increasing until the gilded and bloody leaves of the trees went flying off and twirled in glimmering spirals through the air. Small white clouds drifted quickly in from the east, tattering like ripped cotton in the higher winds above. The elleths advanced through a stony dell, where a tiny creek of singing water went frothing over the rocks and down a steep hill, to meet its fate as a waterfall in the sunlit parts of the tree roots. Dapples of light struck everything through the fiery canopies above them in the dell, and leaves drifted hither and thither like descending butterflies. None of the loose, damp stones tripped up the sisters, nor hindered their steps. They walked like they were on a flat, level road.
"They're coming," said Eruialiwen at last as they came out of the dell and back into full sunlight. "They are about five miles away."
Enednilwen didn't have to stop and listen to hear the hoofbeats approaching. "One...two...three...four...five. They did bring our horses, Eruialiwen," she said after a moment. "We'll make it to Mirkwood before nightfall for sure." There was a high pitch in the edges of her voice, a pitch of anticipation. Eruialiwen noticed it.
"Someone is eager this morn," she mocked lightheartedly. "Must be all those moon-tides in you, Enednilwen."
The other elleth's face was suddenly as red as blood. "You're one to talk," she declared. "You're the one who is so intent on getting to Legolas! And probably to his bed!"
Eruialiwen kept walking, but her countenance darkened. It seemed she would say or do something terrible, but when she opened her mouth, she began to sing instead, and her face and eyes brightened like the sun.
The golden leaves were beginning to drop from silvered branches. A light breeze shushed through them, unhindered over the boughs and past them. The moon was setting, and there was a grey-blue tinge on the eastern horizon. The air was as sweet as cool rain, the sky still studded by frosty stars.
A figure perched on one of the tree boughs, watching the light slowly cleave to every reachable place from the east. A fine cloak covered the figure from crouched heels to head, a cloak dappled with dew and untouched by the breeze. The figure did not stir, but remained frozen, staring at the east like a grey memorial statue of some lost warrior or kingdom.
Suddenly, a quiet voice from the iron-grey shadows under the trees. "Enednilwen, are you awake?"
The figure moved, and the hood of the cloak fell back. A dark head was revealed, long raven-black hair falling in a cascade down beyond sight under the mantle. The head turned to look down, and a fair face caught the pallid gleams of dawn. In the translucent face were set two bright eyes the color of the midday sky in summer, and rich pink lips touched by no manmade rouge. From the two small plaits winding their way from the hairline to the nape of the neck, pointy ears protruded as though they had strained themselves to listen too long and had formed their peaks.
"A storm is coming," she responded to the voice below the trees. She was an elleth, a she-elf. "It is very far away."
"Then let's go. I'd like to be to King Thranduil's domain by nightfall." A new figure emerged into the growing daylight, owning the voice that was speaking. Another elf maiden, this one a little older than the first, and looking as though she was her twin only with emerald-green eyes. She was sheathing a short sword at her hip and had a bow and quiver strapped between her shoulderblades. She gazed up expectantly at her companion and stood patiently waiting for her to come down.
"Someone is eager this morn," said the first she-elf amusedly, quickly climbing down the tree and leaping off into the wet grass and yellowing ferns. "It must be all that Númenor blood in you, Eruialiwen."
The second elleth scoffed, watching the first gather up her quiver and bow and a small grey-green sack. "You have it too, Enednilwen," she said.
"Yes," Enednilwen said, "but I'm not after the fair prince of Mirkwood. "
Eruialiwen tilted up her head, her dawn-stained face suddenly bright pink. "Legolas is not the reason why I need to go into Mirkwood," she said, her composure defying her embarrassment.
"You mean not the only reason," Enednilwen countered with a grin. "But the main reason."
Eruialiwen frowned, her emerald eyes slightly narrowing, but she said nothing and turned to the still-starlit west. Raising up to her fullest height, as though encouraged by the dying nighttide, she put a step forward and quickly set forth in the dewy brush. Her sister, still grinning, quickly followed after her. They said nought to one another, but were silent as the dawn as it rose ever slowly and tried to escape the coming storm, however long it would be for it to overtake the sun. There was not a hint whatsoever of turbid whether, but both she-elves could feel it on their skin, in their blood, hear it in their ears as faintly as a mosquito walking across a pond. It made their hearts pound behind their breasts: it was always exciting to be caught out in a storm, no matter what the season.
Finally, the golden-pink sun clambered overtop the hills to look down on the blue-green plain. Birds began their morning praises, and every now and then a stag and his doe would emerge from the shadows to graze in the open. The stags would look up as the elf sisters went by, keeping superficial watch as their mates calmly ate, for elves and beasts usually did not hurt one another. And a hunting elf never allowed its victim to have warning before it died.
"Talawen, Ainacalion, and Lothatal should join us soon," Eruialiwen said, finally breaking the silence as they leaped over broken-down boulders in their path. "Since they are on horseback, it shall not be long before we hear the hoofbeats. I hope they brought our horses so our journey might be faster. I haven't ridden Merian since two days before we left Rivendell." Her voice became wistful every time she glanced at the deer; she imagined they were horses and that the biggest stag was her snow-grey stallion, Merian.
"I'd rather walk," said Enednilwen vehemently, "but it would be wise to ride to Mirkwood before this storm comes. I don't like the feel of it. Not at all. If this wasn't so important to Elrond, we shouldn't be going at all." She let her cloak fall behind her shoulders, revealing her brown and green tunic and leggings and soft brown knee-boots. A sword, not unlike her sister's, was belted to her hips in a leather scabbard decorated in elvish wording. "Despair the wicked, for the blade of Tirindail shall shine through them and lay them slain!"
Eruialiwen also let her cloak fall back to let the blushing morning see her plain green tunic and grey leggings. "You may fear the storm, but I do not. Even if I was going alone, I'd still be going."
"Because of Legolas," said Enednilwen.
Eruialiwen began to say something, but fell silent and went back to concentrating on her long strides. The morn was fast growing clearer and bluer, with the breeze steadily increasing until the gilded and bloody leaves of the trees went flying off and twirled in glimmering spirals through the air. Small white clouds drifted quickly in from the east, tattering like ripped cotton in the higher winds above. The elleths advanced through a stony dell, where a tiny creek of singing water went frothing over the rocks and down a steep hill, to meet its fate as a waterfall in the sunlit parts of the tree roots. Dapples of light struck everything through the fiery canopies above them in the dell, and leaves drifted hither and thither like descending butterflies. None of the loose, damp stones tripped up the sisters, nor hindered their steps. They walked like they were on a flat, level road.
"They're coming," said Eruialiwen at last as they came out of the dell and back into full sunlight. "They are about five miles away."
Enednilwen didn't have to stop and listen to hear the hoofbeats approaching. "One...two...three...four...five. They did bring our horses, Eruialiwen," she said after a moment. "We'll make it to Mirkwood before nightfall for sure." There was a high pitch in the edges of her voice, a pitch of anticipation. Eruialiwen noticed it.
"Someone is eager this morn," she mocked lightheartedly. "Must be all those moon-tides in you, Enednilwen."
The other elleth's face was suddenly as red as blood. "You're one to talk," she declared. "You're the one who is so intent on getting to Legolas! And probably to his bed!"
Eruialiwen kept walking, but her countenance darkened. It seemed she would say or do something terrible, but when she opened her mouth, she began to sing instead, and her face and eyes brightened like the sun.