Slipping to the ground, Malrin closed her eyes, willing her swirling thoughts to settle. Making her mind up, Malrin impatiently swung the stolen cloak on, slipping her new sword to her leather belt. She turned to the south, her bare feet swift on the forest floor. The trees provided her relief from the high noon sun. She crossed the river, its deep currents pulling her heavy woolen skirt in every direction. Malrin made it across. Laying on the warm pebbles that lined the river, she caught her breath, her mind focused on her imperative purpose. The sun was affectionate on her chilly skin, bringing feeling back into her numb limbs. When she was rested, she took off again, her dark green cloak flashing between the trees. As she reached the top of the hill, her breath caught in her throat, grief making her knees shake.
The castle had burned, rock debris remaining. Her beautiful town, once filled with joy and cheerfulness was now ashes. She stumbled down the rocky terrain, her vision blurred until she made it to the edge of town. All was deathly silent. He breathing sounded thunderous in the deafening silence, and dread hung like heavy chains on her heart. She fell to her knees, her mind numb. Malrin sobbed, her cries vanishing in the hush. She covered her face with her hands, pain making her body quiver. Tears flowed, warm and salty, down her face. The sunlight warmed her back, a caressing light to ward away the darkness within.
After some time, Malrin rose to her feet, her legs weak, but cast-iron resolution took place of agony. She pushed through the town, ignoring the bodies in the streets and the stench of death and smoke. At the very edge of town, she found a house that was mostly still standing. It had obviously been tried to save by someone. Malrin walked inside, holding her breath. The walls were cracking, the roof falling in. Beams of sunlight searched out the dancing pieces of dust in the air. Malrin took a deep, calming breath and tried to fine something useful the house. She found a leather rucksack first, a few pots, some different herbs and bandages which she stuck in the pack, furs and a gold ring wrapped in blue silk. Malrin studied it carefully. It glinted white-gold in the sunbeams, showing off its exceptional value. With a sigh, she reluctantly wrapped it up, setting it carefully in the brown leather bag.
Malrin rummaged through a large mahogany trunk, richly carved and well preserved. Maps, letters, and books filled it to the brim. Malrin picked through them happily. She loved books, so much so that when her father had gone to visit the merchant, Malrin came along to pick one book.
"One book a year, love, will take you wherever you want to go." Her father used to say while he read to her by candle light.
One book a year...
Malrin should have 19 books, as that was how many years she had lived on this earth. She never had fit in, as she was unmarried and well educated.
"What a nightmare! Such an old maid!" The girls in the village had taunted, laughing, as she read in the meadow by the village, surrounded by fragrant wild-flowers, her imagination painting pictures of far off lands, dizzying heights, and flaming romances.
"My girl, a good brain and a good heart will take you far."
"How far, father?" She had asked.
He laughed.
"Over the mountains and through the woods, to Rivendell we go!"
Malrin smiled at this memory. She took a complicated map of Middle-Earth and three books about which she did not know, and put them all in her leather satchel, which still had room for more. She noticed the rich house had a back room, closed off by a wooden door, one she had never seen before. Malrin opened it with unease, and fell back with a cry.
A body of a man lay against the wall, a pool of blood surrounding him. Her heartbeat fluttered when he opened his mouth to speak. She ran to him, putting pressure on the wound.
"I can help you."
Malrin tried to stop the bleeding, but her waved her hand away, grasping her pale, shaky hand with his. His grip was strong, startling her. He had piercing grey eyes and a long, snow-white beard.
"Listen closely, girl, I don't have much time. Go to the other room... in the chest, there is a ring."
She hastily reached into her bag and pulled it out, letting it slip from the silk into her palm. He looked startled.
"Trying to steal from me, are you, girl?"
Malrin swallowed, but his eyes shone with good humor.
"'Tis no matter... Take that ring far, far away from here, to Rivendell. Do you hear me, girl?"
He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her with surprising strength. She gasped when his nimble fingers squeezed her healing wound.
"Yes, sir, I will do as you wish."
He dropped his hands, relief clouding his face.
"Take what you need girl, but be swift. They will return."
She nodded, but hesitated.
"I must die girl, understand? My death will bring about a change that is necessary. I-I...Must..."
His eyes fluttered shut.
"The ring is...is c-called... Brithomir...I am its master. Take heed, for danger will reach you with it."
His voice grew strained and weak.
"Never...let...it-t leave your sight..."
He his voice faded, and he lay still. Malrin sat in shock before putting the ring back in her bag.
Rivendell.
The elf city was known to be the most beautiful of all. Malrin sighed, looking at the man. Gently, she brushed his lined face with her hand.
"Rest well, weary traveler."
She pulled a silk sheet off of the bed, covered his peaceful face with it. Malrin noticed another trunk in the corner. Inside she found men's clothes. Pulling off her stained, damp and soiled dress, she pulled on a loose blouse that covered up her thin waist and breasts. Over her loose blouse she laced up her leather corset. The pants were large, but she kept them up with her leather belt. Malrin found a pair of worn, leather boots, soft and supple, by the door. They were large, but comfortable. Braiding her hair is a messy plait, she stood outside, watching the noon sun descend in the distance. Malrin set off on foot, towards the east again, pulling her green hood up as she walked. She thought of how strange she must look, a woman in men's clothes. Suddenly, Malrin heard a loud banging noise from a building still standing, a little ways away from the town. Apprehensive, she opened the door, and a white flash barreled at her. Malrin moved at the last second, barely escaping the horses sharp hooves. The horse pranced, rearing up and kicking out. Its eyes were wild, and froth covered the horse's coat.
"Easy now."
Malrin spoke in a gentle voice, holding her hand out coaxingly. The horse whinnied, pawing the ground violently, kicking up dirt and grass.
"Fine then, stubborn nag. You're smarter than I."
Malrin turned her back on the horse, waiting. The air was silent for a moment, and then Malrin felt tug at on her hood. She turned gently, and the horse's nose met hers.
"There, now, pretty girl, everything all right. Just a bit frightened, weren't we?"
Malrin kissed the velvety nose softly and stroked the horse's forehead, marveling. Her coat was snowy white with peppered brown specks littered all over.
"You could aid me, Pretty One. "
The horse nuzzled her, as though in agreement. Malrin smiled. Grabbing the thin leather halter, she led the horse back to the barn. The horse would not step inside though, so, alone, Malrin stepped into the sweet smelling building. It was very dark, and very warm. Sweat gathered on Malrin's brow, her leather corset feeling uncomfortably tight around her waist. She found a rough blanket and a saddle hanging by the door. The saddle was a soft, the supple leather intricately designed with flowers, birds and the letter H. Malrin rolled the blanket up tightly, and carried both out into the bright sun. The horse had wandered off a few feet, nibbling contentedly at the soft grass. At Malrin's loud whistle, the horse picked up her ears and trotted over with a soft nicker. Malrin heaved the heavy saddle onto her back, tying the rolled blanket and her leather pouch on the back. The horse stirred lightly, but didn't dart. Gently, so as not to agitate the mare, Malrin nimbly pulled herself up, positioning herself on the smooth leather.
"There now, pretty love, not so hard, was it? You are a darling!"
Malrin paused with a small smile.
"That'll be your name then... Melda. It's darling in elfish, you know."
Melda stirred in impatience, eager to be off. Malrin clicked her tongue and dug in her heels, and they flew to the north, the wind providing relief from the hot sun.