Author's Note: See, faster update, even if it's not as long as I would like. There are a couple of things that I'm tweaking in this chapter, for instance, according to what I have written, the Loudwater and the Hoarwell flow South to North, like the Nile. This is incorrect, but otherwise I would be taking far too many creative liberties with how quickly horses can run, and which direction certain characters went. One other thing was that I'm making the assumption Elrond sent messages to the Dwarves and Men that there would be a council before Frodo makes it to Imladris, though it still occurs after he has recovered, on the 25th of October. I think that's about it, sorry about the long note, and enjoy!
September 3018, the Third Age – Province of Rhydderch
The harsh clanging of iron on mithril shattered the normally peaceful sounds of Rhydderch, the smell of burning grass choked the air. Adraestia of Illyon wiped a splatter of black orc blood from her face and snarled with a feral grin at the cleaver-weilding Uruk before her. "Haahh!" She cried as she charged the larger brute, brandishing her mithril short swords with practiced ease, one taking off his head the other ramming through his gut. Immediately there were two more of the creatures upon her, both taken care of just as efficiently. The cries and sounds of battle surrounded her as she cut through the orcs and Uruks, more blood spraying over her body and shining armor.
A few yards to her right Kilana of Ciel was rampaging through the monsters, her wickedly curved scimitar destroying them as quickly as they came upon her. Adraestia's sister, Aerawyn, was somewhere in the fray, but not in sight.
They had come upon the forces of Mordor in Lyrn, one of the few wooded areas of Rhydderch. The twins, along with Kilana had been called in to aid Rhydderch when the country was being over-ridden by the orcs, the horse-soldiers not able to withstand the constant battering on their own.
A horrendous force slammed into the Faerie, knocked her into a tree. She twisted around and plunged one of her swords into the Uruk. Below her lay a green-clad soldier of Rhydderch, her blond hair caked with black and red blood, some of which still leaked from the massive gash across her head. Her glassy hazel eyes stared blankly up at Adraestia, a trickle of dried blood ran from her open mouth, and more oozed from the deep stab-wound in her chest. One of the thousands who had died in the last fifty years. Another who had died defending her land. It wasn't right, Faeries were immortal, they were meant to live forever, and here was a girl, perhaps not even a thousand, her life cut short.
"Taro liyt!" She growled at more orcs poured from the trees.
"What's your count?" Kilana's laughing voice called out to her, the golden faerie dodging between orcs, their dead bodies dropping to the ground moments later.
"I lost count after 50, they never seem to end!" Was her slightly breathless reply. Faeries normally didn't tire easy, but they had been fighting since mid-morning and it was already well into the afternoon.
"Have you seen Wyn?" She asked, wondering where her sister was.
"No, she was over by the cliffs the last time I caught a glimpse of her."
Adraestia dodged an Uruk body as a Rhydderchian captain dispatched of it, his shouted apology lost in the sounds of battle.
Suddenly the girl she had been searching for made herself known when she ran past, swords swinging in the air.
"Dreya! There's a messenger in trouble, just over the ridge! He needs to get through!"
"On it! Lana, take care of these boys will you?" Adraestia called to her friend, the desert princess grumbling at the new wave of orcs.
Adraestia sprinted through the trees, stabbing the orcs that blocked her path as she went, desperate to reach the messenger.
His horse went down as she reached the ridge, the mare squealing an agonized whinny before dropping, five black arrows in her neck. The messenger was thrown, landing in an ungraceful lump on the ground, three orcs immediately upon him. Adraestia yelled a battle cry before jumping into the fray, killing two immediately, but not getting to the third before he had stabbed the messenger in the thigh, deep red blood pouring from the gash when the knife was ripped out.
"We need to get you to safety, come on." She said, reaching to help him to his feet.
"No need," he rasped, his voice thick with pain as the leg wound continued to leak blood. "They're almost all gone."
It was true, in her frantic rush to get to the messenger she hadn't noticed that the number of orcs rampaging through the wood had lessened, now only a few remained. Other than the screams of the injured and dying, the forest was unnaturally quiet. And then came a sound that sent a shudder through her body and made her ears ring.
"Grzajugl! Ringwraith!" She spat, drawing her swords and searching the area for the owner of the terrible shriek. Before she chased after the creature, she pulled a knife from one of her boots and tossed it to the stricken messenger.
"My Lady!" His shout reached deaf ears as she ran through the trees, following the black-shrouded form in the distance. She came upon a horse standing over its fallen master and leapt to its back, whispering words of her haste to the intelligent animal before resuming her chase. On and on they ran, the evil shrieking making her skin crawl, yet she would not desist.
Back with the messenger, Kilana and Aerawyn had finished killing the remaining orcs, their shining blades cover in a thick coating of black blood.
Aerawyn found the messenger where he still lay by some young trees, the blood finally staunched, though he was overly pale.
"You! Where is my sister?" Aerawyn demanded, grabbing his tunic.
"There was a Wraith, she chased it, heading Northwest."
Aerawyn cursed. "We need to follow her, she'll get herself killed."
"Wait, my lady, please!" The messenger cried, grasping her cloak tightly as she went to move away.
"I must tell you, there is to be a council, in Rivendel1! Dwarves and men are to journey there and meet with Elrond, though the reason is not known." He fell back against the trees.
"Save your breath, you have done well, we will have someone get you and take you to the Tenth City, where you must inform the Queen, do you understand?"
He nodded.
"Come on, Lana, we need to save my stupid sister."
"We can't, Wyn, we have to regroup and get word to the Queen."
"Kilana, she's my sister, she's my twin! I can't just let her die!"
"I know, but she is already far ahead, it is illogical. Adraestia can take care of herself. Besides, there is a chance she will not catch it."
"You know she will, Lana, you know how she's like when she sets her mind to something."
"At any rate we need to return to the capitol and inform the Queen of this council, then we shall go after Dreya."
"Very well, but if anything should happen to her, may it rest on your conscience." The faerie's pretty face disfigured by a scowl.
They found horses and returned with haste to Rhovana, the capital city of Rhydderch.
Adraestia had been chasing the Wraith for going on four days. They were deep in the Misty Mountains, the foggy crags for which the mountains had been named making visibility difficult, even for the well-endowed eyes of the Fae. Neither she nor her horse, a well-bred steed of Rhydderch had eaten aside from the odd snatch of grass and a few berries. She was tired, and hungry, and sore, the various injuries from the battle in Lyrn not having had time to be taken care of or healed. Finally she had tracked the Wraith to the cliffs above the Loudwater River, and here she had trapped it.
"Stop, fiend!" She growled, jumping from the horse and drawing her swords.
The wraith hissed as her and dismounted, drawing its own wicked blade.
"Where is it you go and what is your purpose on our lands?" She asked of it, keeping a good distance away but blocking its escape. Faeries, like elves were far more resilient to the Morgul blades than mortals, but a bad wound or a cut left untended would be fatal, and she had no wish to endure such a painful death.
It shrieked at her, making her wince as the cruel sound assaulted her sensitive ears, and then it charged, her short swords brought up in front of her face just in time to block the brutal attack. It struck at her face with its fist, the sharp armor cutting into her cheek. She spat out the blood from her mouth where she had bit her cheek with the force of the impact.
The wraith continued its onslaught driving her backwards towards the cliff while she parried as fast as she could, getting in a strike when she could. But her movements were sluggish with her exhaustion, whereas the wraith was fresh and far stronger. Had the sun been shining brightly she would have had an advantage, but the gloomy mist that blocked the friendly light of the sun only served to strengthen the creature of evil.
She spun her blades and struck again, driving one blade into what should have been the wraith's body, but it had no effect, and instead she felt an icy burn against her lower torso. She looked down as they stood interlocked, a thin dagger was held in the wraith's left hand. It had been slashed across her stomach where her light armor did not reach, dark red blood already welling from the wound. She gasped against the painful sensation of the Morgul poison and stumbled backwards, the wraith continuing to push her until she stood at the edge. Her vision was swimming, the freeing chill was spreading, and she continued backward until there was nothing but air beneath her feet.
And then she fell.
The wraith stepped over to the edge and its head bent down to look, its eyeless hood black and empty. Adraestia was clinging to the cliff-face, her face white and covered in a pained expression. She had dug a knife into the cliff and was hanging from it, but she was too far down to hope to pull herself back up. The Wraith shrieked again, swiping at her with its scared blade, but it could not reach.
"Wyn," Adraestia whispered shaking her head, her right arm trembling from the effort of holding onto the dagger, which had begun to slip through the dirt, her weight dragging it down. "Wyn, I'm sorry."
She let go of the dagger, falling to the frothy river below and disappearing with a splash, the force of the fall and the icy blast of water throwing her into an oblivious unconsciousness as the current carried her away.
Aerawyn stumbled as she and Kilana were escorted to the Mirror Chamber.
"Are you alright?" Her friend asked, blue eyes concerned.
"I think something's happened to Dreya." She whispered, panic edging into her voice. They were rarely separated and she had been distraught all day, the bond with her twin pulling at her.
"It's probably just the prolonged separation. Once we're finished with this we'll be able to set out after her."
"Lana, it's been four days."
"Yes, which is why another hour won't make much of a difference."
Aerawyn fell silent at they reached the Chamber. A single pillar adorned the room, filled with crystalline water. It wasn't truly a mirror, more of, well she wasn't sure what it could be called, but it was the fastest and safest way of communication between the provinces, though it didn't always work. Each capital city had one, and they were only to be used in times of great urgency. Some called it scrying, the way you could look into a bowl of water and see another place.
The Mirror-Keeper, a willowy looking woman with a translucent covering over her head and wise green eyes that betrayed her age stepped from the shadows, her grey dress flowing after her like a trail of mist.
"Who is it you wish to speak to?" The Keeper's soft voice echoed in the circular room.
Kilana and Aerawyn bowed.
"We must contact Lady Rhiannon, at the citadel of the Tenth City."
"As you command." The Keeper whispered, waving a pale hand over the water, her eyes closed in concentration.
The water rippled and then smoothed once more, and the Keeper retreated into the shadows to allow a private conversation.
Aerawyn and Kilana peered into the water, the ever-twilight sky of the Tenth City visible in the back of the open pavilion. Lady Rhiannon stood before them.
"Aerawyn, Kilana, why is it you call for me?" Rhiannon's enchanting voice asked, her expression curious.
"My Lady, we discovered a messenger today, he carried word of a council, in Rivendell. A gathering of Elves, Dwarves, and Men to discuss the fate of that which I dare not speak of."
The Fae Queen's eyes burned with a sudden fury. "And I suppose no missive was sent to our people?"
"Nay my Lady, nothing at all."
"When is this council to be?"
"The messenger did not know, but I would assume it to be fairly soon, a month or so at the latest."
"Then there is not time to gather representatives." The queen mused, frowning darkly.
"My Lady, if I may." Aerawyn asked tentatively, well aware of how quickly the queen's temper could turn.
"Go ahead."
"My sister left us four days ago, chasing one of the Nine in a North-Western direction. I intend to go after her immediately, and her course will most likely lead to the haven of Elrond. If, by the time of the council, I have either found her or not, I could stop at Rivendell and act as a representative of our people."
The queen appeared to ponder the idea for a moment. "Very well, but you will take Kilana and two others with you."
"Of course my lady."
"Now be off with you, there is no time to delay!"
The water shimmered and was once more clear.
"Come on, let's go." Aerawyn said sharply, spinning on her heel and striding purposefully out the door and into the corridor.
They went directly to the stables, finding to soldiers to accompany them on their journey. The first was a guard of Rhydderch, his name Lyander, his short hair sandy-blonde, and his eyes pale blue.
The other was a soldier named Cælenia from Gaenor, her jet-black hair straight and long, her dark eyes cold but with a spark of humor.
They set off from Rhovana, riding North-West and following the trail of Adraestia, which was growing cold.
It wasn't until the next day that Adraestia was seen and pulled from the Hoarwell by two elves. She wakened briefly, disoriented and in pain before the blackness enveloped her once more, a voice whispering unfamiliar words in her ear and the soothing rocking motion of a horse dulling the pain that spasmed through her body.
The elves raced on towards their home, stopping for the night when they were halfway there.
The elf that carried the injured faerie carefully slid her from his horse, landing her in the other's arms before he himself dismounted.
"What in Middle-Earth is a faerie doing this far north?"
"I don't know, but she's severely injured, she may not make the journey home tomorrow."
The first elf moved the cloak they had wrapped around her body in an attempt to keep her warm.
"This is a Morgul wound, I'm going to go find some Athelas, you try to find out what else is wrong with her."
The other elf nodded and carried her to where his brother had set their bags, laying her gently on the ground and quickly building a small fire before tending to her other injuries.
There was a massive bruise on her right cheek, a long but shallow cut through the middle. Her skin was mottled with smaller bruises.
He felt along her torso, avoiding the deep gash. She jerked as he lightly ran his fingers over her ribs. Broken, most definitely.
Some time later the other elf returned, a clump of Athelas clutched in each hand.
"Anything?"
The elf who had stayed with her shook his head, raven locks swinging gently. "Nay, she's not stirred. From what I can tell she had several broken ribs, and aside from the stomach wound and the cut on her cheek all she has are bruises."
The other nodded and retrieved a small pot from their bags, filling it with water from a stream that trickled beside the campsite and setting it over the fire to boil.
"I thought faeries had wings." He mused, looking at the girl curiously.
His brother turned her over carefully and lifted the back of her shirt to reveal a smooth back that was only discolored by bruises and a few old battle scars.
"Nothing."
The elf by the fire shrugged and dropped the sprigs of Athelas into the hot water, a pleasant aroma leaking into the air. He dipped a clean cloth into the water and then pressed it against the girl's wound, his brother holding her still as she moved away from it.
They remained awake through the night, their elven heritage allowing them to go without sleep for long periods of time. The girl did not stir from her unnatural sleep, nor did she move aside from the listless stirring of her eyes beneath their lids and occasional incomprehensible mumbles.
They set out the next morning as the day dawned pale and chilly, the land quickly transgressing towards winter as October was upon it.
The elf who had carried the injured faerie the previous day once more took her in his arms, cradling her against him as his stallion charged across familiar ground. His brother took both their bags onto his own mount and led the way to Imladris.
They reached the stretch of cliffs and valleys that so carefully hid the Elven-Haven from unwanted visitors about mid-day. Carefully the picked their way through the winding paths, taking care to traverse the faster and easier ways to accommodate for their unexpected companion.
Finally they came to the narrow bridge that led to the entrance, their horses' nimble feet easily crossing the spindly path. The gates of the city smoothly swung open, allowing them entrance, and they sped into the city with hast, not stopping until they reached the Last Homely House, where their father dwelt.
"Fetch our father! Quickly!" One of the brothers called to a passing servant, who immediately ran off to fetch her lord.
They dismounted, the unburdened elf aiding his brother in letting the faerie down from the horse without jostling her.
As the brother who had been carrying the girl reclaimed her, their father appeared in a flurry of heavy robes, his ancient grey eyes concerned and confused as he rushed to see what his sons needed of him.
"Elladan, Elrohir! What has happened?" Elrond, Lord of Imladris asked the elves before him, looking at the still female form in Elrohir's arms.
"We found her in the river, father." Elladan explained as Elrond led the way to the House of Healing. "Yestermorn, we saw her armor glinting and investigated. She has a bad wound from a Morgul blade, and several broken ribs."
Elrond looked concerned. "A lone woman in armor, and a Morgul wound. Who is she?"
"We don't know." Elrohir said from his other side. "Father, we think she is of the Fae."
The Lord of Imladris nearly faltered in his steps. "A Faerie? Why would a Faerie be so far north? Are you sure?"
"Yes father, she is neither of man nor elven-kind, and never have I seen such armor as hers."
"Did you bring it with you?"
"Nay, we had not the time and did not want to weigh our horses with unnecessary weight, though we did take the time to conceal it."
"That is good, you shall need to retrieve it if possible."
"Of course, father."
They reached the House of Healing and Lord Elrond led the way to secluded room, plain but elegant, with a single window overlooking a walking path. Elrohir gently placed the prone girl on the bed and stepped back, standing beside his brother while their father examined the Faerie.
"Elladan, go find either Arwen or Muindor and tell them to fetch some hot water and Athelas."
The older twin left the room to do as his father wished.
"Will she be all right?"
"I can not say, it is a bad wound, though the river will have washed it. It depends on how strong she is. I'm sure Mithrandir will have the answers we seek, but we must wait for his return."
Elladan returned, the chief healer, Muindor, in his wake with the requested materials as well as fresh bandages and other necessities.
The Lord and the Healer set to work, shooing the twins from the room, and replacing the old bandaging and Athelas with fresh sprigs and cloth.
All the while the girl on the bed lay deathly still, not knowing where she was or where her sister was.
Aerawyn and Kilana diligently followed the five day old trail, searching for any sign of Adraestia, but there was nothing but the tracks. Aerawyn could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, and for once she prayed to Eru that her instincts were wrong.
Author's Note: It might be awhile before the next update, I really only have time to write on weekends because of school. Luckily I pretty much know what the next chapter will be, so maybe within a week.