As we walked, question upon question swirled through my head. We'd walked into the forest and away from the orc encampment that was once Rivendell. We must have walked several leagues already, as I could no longer hear or smell any trace of the orcs. The elf hadn't said a word since we exited Rivendell. Why was he leading me away from the orcs? If he was indeed one of Sauron's chosen, as his tunic suggested, then we should be heading in the other direction so that the orcs could kill me. Why had he attacked the orc who was going to murder me? The whole situation greatly puzzled me, but quite frankly, I was glad just to be alive.
Although I was still mystified with my situation, my thoughts began to shift from my situation to the pain in my shoulder. My dress was getting redder by the minute, and I knew that I couldn't keep walking much longer. I finally stopped walking. "I can't keep going any longer.", I said. The elf turned around. I looked at him closely for the first time. He had long, dark hair and hazel eyes, with a fine, sensitive face. He was tall and lean, like most elves, and he carried no wounds from the recent battle. The elf, whatever his name was, stared at me for a moment like I was crazy.
"We can't. They'll find us." He hesitated, looking at the wound on my shoulder, then at the sky, and spoke again. "Well, maybe we should stop here for the night. It's almost dusk, and your wound does look pretty bad. You sit here, and I'll go find a good place to camp." With that, he headed off into the woods, leaving me sitting in the middle of the forest.
It occurred to me then that if he decided to leave me here, I would probably die. I couldn't travel farther with my wound- I was close to fainting already- and there was no food or water in sight. The only things I had brought with me from Rivendell was what I had on my person. There wasn't even a path where we had been walking- all I knew was that we were headed in the general direction of the misty mountains. I took in several deep breaths and lay down on the carpet of fallen leaves that covered the forest floor. It was almost winter, and the trees were mostly devoid of leaves. I knew that I couldn't let myself panic, or I would lose my senses and wander off into the trees, never to return. As these dismal thoughts were going through my head, exhaustion took over and I fell into a deep slumber.
When I awoke, it was dark all around me, except for the flickering light of a fire. The scent of some kind of soup drifted towards me, making my mouth water. Someone had draped a blanket over me. I sat up and saw that we were under a rock outcropping that jutted up from the forest floor. Various shrubberies had grown up around the sides of the rock, making a sort of small cave inside. The elf was sitting next to the fire, which was crackling merrily, and stirring a pot full of soup above the fire. He turned around and looked at me, then said- somewhat sulkily- "You finally woke up. I couldn't seem to wake you, so I had to carry you here. Dinner's ready- it's just some soup- so if you're ready, come and eat."
"Thanks. It smells delicious," I said, scooting closer to the fire. Despite his attitude, I decided to be as polite as possible- he had saved my life, after all. "My name's Siskiyou. What's yours?"
He ladled some soup into a cup, then said, "It's Dasalain."
I took a sip of the soup. It was very good, with hunks of deer meat and potatoes floating in a salty, spicy liquid. "I have a few questions. Why are we leaving Rivendell? Why didn't you kill me? Why did you attack the orcs? Why-" He interrupted me before I could say more.
"I guess I have a lot of explaining to do. I'll try to make it brief, since we still have to bandage your wound. I joined Sauron's Chosen because I was forced to. I know, I shouldn't have, but I was scared and I was much younger. They were threatening to kill my sister, and I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her again, so I agreed, foolishly, and was accepted into their ranks. A few years in, I couldn't take any more of the beatings and the killings, so I decided to find a way to get back at Sauron's Chosen, since I knew they'd kill both me and my sister if I tried to just leave. They probably think I'm dead right now, and that ruse will fool them for a while, but they'll come after us sooner or later.
You probably don't know, but Sauron's Chosen is almost like a religion. They worship Sauron and have their own prophecies and such. Of course, all those prophecies are probably stuff and nonsense, but Sauron's Chosen shape their lives around them. Their main prophecy goes like this:
Once blood has been sown,
The sword will have grown,
The mighty sword,
And the bindings of rope and cord,
Will bring the elf to rest.
She will be the one to welcome our mighty guest.
Brown chestnut hair,
Skin white and fair,
Eyes bluer than the sea,
None is fairer than she.
Upon her hand
Is the rose from another land.
Let her blood run
To our master, the sun
A doorway it will open
Our master can come through, then
He will rule the land
With the grace of his mighty hand
The master, of course is Sauron. This mystery elf is the key to bringing back Sauron- at least that's what they believe. They think that her blood will open a doorway into death, and Sauron will come through. Of course, I don't believe in any of it, but they do. This is the very reason they attacked Rivendell- to find the elf, who their spies apparently saw in Rivendell. I figured that if I stopped the elf from being killed, it would cause serious damage to the courage of their troops. They'd probably stop raiding villages to find the elf. If she fell into enemy hands, they would never be able to revive Sauron. After making sure that they saw the elf, and knew that she was in Rivendell at the time of the battle, I saved her. When they go through the bodies and find no elf with a 'rose from another land' on her hand, they'd know that she'd escaped.
What I'm trying to tell you is that.. well... Siskiyou, you are the elf in the prophecy."
I sat there for a moment, stunned. The description of the elf in the prophecy fit me perfectly, all the way down to the circular scarlet birthmark on the back of my left hand. Dasalain's words had the ring of truth to them, and I knew that there was no avoiding it- I was being hunted by Sauron's Chosen, and they would not stop until they had spilled every last drop of my blood.
