Chapter 2 ~ The Woodland Realm

When Arwen came to consciousness she was plummeting downwards. Her mind screamed at her that they were going too fast, crazily fast, dangerously fast. Her arms started windmilling round in a fruitless bid to stop herself, tumbling head over heels with no control. They were wrapped up in the light as it burned brightly around them, falling, still falling-

They crashed down through trees, leaves slapping their skin and twigs leaving little painful cuts and Arwen could hear herself screaming but Tom was still unconscious, visible from the horrible way his body flopped from side to side like a fish. She flailed for him, and their hands brushed before Arwen's shoulder slammed into the ground moments before her head did, so hard that she felt sick. Then the bright light that had taken them there disappeared as quickly as it had left, retracting back into the sky until it was a little speck before disappearing entirely.

Arwen moaned in pain. Everything ached, her shoulder especially, which had absorbed most of the impact of the fall. A stinging cut ran along her cheekbone. Her fingers came away bloody when she reached up a trembling hand to touch it. Her knees were grazed, but as she slowly sat up, wincing, she surmised that these were thankfully the worst of her injuries. Tom. The thought came to her head faster than the breath of wind that huffed through the pine trees above and she scanned her surroundings for him. There was no sign, only the odd sort of quiet that had settled upon the woods like a mantle, eerie and watchful. Arwen staggered to her feet, cursing the high heeled boots which had seemed like such a good idea when she had put them on yesterday night in her bedroom. That thought stirred panic, but she forced it down, resolving to concentrate first on finding Tom, then the whys as to her strange whereabouts.

The pine needles crunched beneath her feet as she took one step forward, then another. He had been right next to her, within touching distance, so how was it possible that he fell so far away? There was a creaking groan above her head and Arwen looked up, into the canopy where the odd spot of light reached down and kissed her cheeks through the dense leaves.

"Tom!" She whispered, as the source of the noise became clear. It was the groan of a tree, its thick branch bent bearing the weight of her six foot friend. He was trapped in a hunter's net - Arwen only recognised it because of all the movies she'd seen. The ropes were meshed and thin, dangling the prey from the branch. Tom must have sprung the trap when he landed.

"Tom! Tom, can you hear me?" She called up. There was no response. Arwen looked up, shielding her eyes, and tried to work out how she could let him down. There seemed to be no rope attached to the ground that would enable her to do this, so Arwen reasoned that the best way to free him would be to cut a hole in the net large enough to climb through, provided she could awaken him. Selecting a sharpish looking stone, she tucked it into her pocket and surveyed the trunk of the nearest tree with the grim attitude of one about to go into battle. Arwen lifted her leg as high as her miniskirt would allow and put her boot on the first branch. She heaved off the ground and grabbed onto the tree, a sense of triumph in her that she had made it three feet off the ground. The oak tree that she was in had a trunk regularly punctuated by branches, so climbing was relatively easy. Nevertheless, by the time that she was finally eye level with Tom, she was sweaty, tired, in pain from her shoulder and her shoes and brand new leather jacket lay abandoned on the forest floor beneath her, discarded for convenience. Testing the branch gingerly with her bare foot, neon pink toenails in tact, Arwen found it stable enough and began to edge out. It was quickly realised that she did not have the balance nor the nerve to make it out to Tom, so decided to sloth it, and slowly progressed along the branch that way, hugging it with her feet wrapped tightly round the bark. She entwined her fingers in the rope and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull him towards her. He was stirring, slowly coming to, so Arwen set her energy on making him a hole big enough to climb out of. She sawed and sawed and sawed, but the rope was made of some unknown, impossibly strong material that would not break, no matter her efforts or frustrations. In anger, she threw the stone down, where it fell and hit the floor with a dull thud, sending up a puff of brown leaves like ripples in a pond.

"Ar? Is that you?"

His voice was so loud by her ear, so sudden, so unexpected that she jumped out of her skin and loosened her hold on the branch. She gave a loud, high pitched scream as she slipped off, her scrabbling hands just managing to grab hold of the base of the net before she could fall once more. Her heart stopped. Tom's hand reached through a gap and clasped onto her wrist, relieving some of the pressure. Arwen could feel the strain all up her sides.

A second voice, deep and loud startled them both, and only Tom's hold and her survival instincts kept her from letting go.

"Two birds with one stone, I see."

Arwen looked down, past her feebly kicking feet to the ground, where a tall man surrounded by others was smirking up at her, her favourite jacket dangling from the tip of his sword. Wait - he had a sword?! Arwen's eyes rounded.

"You did fall from the sky, didn't you, little bird?" His laughing eyes addressed her.

"Let us down!" Arwen yelled, red faced from holding up her own body weight. Her fingers were beginning to cramp, and Tom's sweaty grip starting to slip.

"Just let go!" The man sounded amused. "I promise I'll catch you!" He held out his arms, and this drew a laugh from his companions. Arwen gave a scream of frustration, before her attention was caught by a blur of green leaping up the tree, using each branch as though it were a stepping stone, making mincemeat of what had taken Arwen so long and so much effort. Her mouth dropped open as the blur whizzed towards her and barreled into her from the side in mid air, slamming her body against the opposite tree trunk. Arwen held on for dear life and could only watch while the person rescued Tom, depositing him on the ground where Tom promptly scrambled back from the man and his friends. When Arwen's feet touched the ground, she quickly put her shoes back on and marched up to the man, snatching her jacket back haughtily. His laugh followed her back to Tom, who looked pale and ill. Arwen took his hand and proceeded to try and pull him out of the clearing but he would not let her, resisting.

"Arwen. Arwen stop." He murmured softly, voice haunted. "Look at them Ar, look at them."

So Arwen looked, and what she saw drained the colour from her face and made her knees weak. She leant heavily on Tom.

Sharp, pointed ears. Long, braided hair. Elegant, beautiful faces. Green warrior's clothes. Wickedly sharp curving blades and knives, strapped to backs, thighs, arms, legs.

Arwen's voice sounded horrified when she spoke.

"They're… Elves…"