AN: Sorry for the lateness, school has started for me and my free time is ever fleeting. But I promise to update as soon and as much as I can before it all disappears! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited this story so far, you guys just make my day all the time! Thank you toReincarnated Poet for helping me revise this chapter and make it suitable for you guys to read. Enjoy!
Chapter 3 A Murder of Crows
Third Age: 2871
Humming along to the various morning songs of the birds around him, Radagast wandered into a small glade. Most of the sun's rays collected in the open space, making the open area brighter than the surrounding forests. Old thick trees lined the border and fresh flowers carpeted the ground with pastel hues. A lazy creek wound its way around a few stones before disappearing into the forest.
The glade was quite beautiful and reminded the wizard of one of the many reasons he chose to stay within the Greenwood and protect it. Taking a deep breath, Radagast inhaled the honey sweet aroma of the flowers. His eyes crossed and his body relaxed. Then letting it out, his shoulders dropped as his eyes went back to normal and he looked around. The birds around him chattered and rested on low hanging branches. A few fluttered around him as he walked, their high pitched chirps familiar and homely to him.
As Radagast looked around the clearing, something caught his attention. Amongst the flowers was a dark colored lump surrounded by a few crows. Curious, the wizard stepped forward to get a better look.
"I wonder what happened here," He mused, talking to some of the birds around him. When he got closer his eyes widened with realization. "It's a child!"
The lump gave way to detail and revealed a little girl. Tangled red hair stood out from the grass, dirtied by mud and matted together by dried clumps of blood. Twigs and leaves poked from the messy tresses, as if she were some wild child, and the crows picked at them with their beaks. Pale damaged skin grayed under the sun. The body lay on its stomach, but her face was turned out of the dirt, revealing soft cheek bones and a rounded jaw. Her body lay motionless as the birds picked and pulled at her, like any corpse on a battlefield.
Horrified, Radagast used his staff to scatter and scare the crows away. "Shoo! Off with you!"
Protesting profusely, the murder of crows was chased away by the other birds. Kneeling down, Radagast examined the girl more closely. Her small body was clammy to the touch. The wound in her shoulder looked deep and a knife still protruded from it as the blood flowed around the blade. His brow wrinkled under his brown hat and the skin under his blue eyes sagged as he murmured, "Poor thing."
Her closed lids twitched suddenly. The movement was subtle, but Radagast saw them move. He knew that the body could still twitch even hours after death, but something stirred in him. Reaching out an old gnarled hand, he placed it under her nose. He held it there for a few moments, feeling warm gentle air brush against his fingers. Eyes widening, he yelped, "She's alive!"
The birds around them chattered, excited by the news. The wizard's mind began to buzz, trying to think of what to do as he fumbled around. His hands fluttered over her small body, never staying in one place and barely touching her as he fretted. Radagast was familiar with healing wounded animals, but this girl wasn't an animal. Granted, he didn't know what she was quite yet, but she wasn't what he was used to.
"Oh, what do I do?" The wizard searched his scattered brain. His dirty fingers scratched at the scraggy hair beneath his hat. Wild eyebrows came together as his eyes looked up from her body, as if he could see the answer in his brain. He had never healed a person before. Could he treat her like other wounded animals?
Chewing on his lower lip, Radagast examined her shoulder again. The knife was embedded to the hilt, turned just so into the meaty flesh of her back and shoulder, having torn through flesh on its way in. The weapon had torn through the muscle and sinew, leaving ragged edges on either side of the blade.
Rummaging in the folds of his brown robes, the wizard found a thick piece of fabric. The soiled rag wasn't the best, but it was all he had. Releasing his staff, he used one hand to surround the wound with the rag and the other to grab the knife. He knew he couldn't pull it out here in the forest, or else she would bleed to death before they made it to his home. So with gentle care, he wrapped the cloth around her shoulder and around the blade, to keep it still.
When he was done, the birds chirped at him frantically, telling him to hurry. Raising his voice out of fear, but not anger, he replied, "I know, I know! I'm trying!"
Before he stood, he tenderly picked up the child's body. Then, cradling it in one arm he grabbed his staff with his other hand. Standing to his full height, Radagast took off into the trees once more, though this time going much faster than before. He let his mind go blank as his feet carried him home. All the while the birds followed after him, occasionally warning him of any obstacles in his path.
Minutes later, his home came into view. It stood on the edge of the forest where the trees were the thickest. The house itself looked hastily thrown together with an old tree growing in the center. Hopping over roots and ducking under moss covered branches, Radagast quickened his pace. Reaching the door, he burst into the building, his eyes darted around. Finding the closest table, he used his staff to wipe all the miscellaneous things from the surface before setting the girl down, her chest against the old dark wood.
Then he went around his home, searching for different materials to help the child. Throwing open every cupboard, he looked over every surface and through every collection. Glass bottles stood in the cabinets with no order to their arrangement. Some were tied together with loose pieces of twine. Others lay on the shelves, ready to roll out and onto the counter below to join some of the others. Bright colors stood out from the darker liquids, and not all the bottles were labeled and those that were had scribbled scratching on tiny parchments. Roaming his eyes over the tiny bottles he found a few that he might need. With shaky hands he reached out and grabbed them, and knocked over a few of the others in the process.
Mumbling unintelligible things, the wizard continued to look around his cluttered home. Going to the back he found all his dishes, both clean and dirty stacked about. Finding a pot he opened the lid, only to get a whiff of something too molded to distinguish. He frowned before placing the lid back on, sealing the foul odor.
The birds continued to chitter at him from their perches, their tones a range of pitches. Scowling, the wizard shooed some of the bird away from where they sat on some jars and dishes. "I know!" Radagast called out as he shifted through the different kitchenware. "I'm going as fast as I can!"
Finally he found a few pots that were empty of any moldy substance. Grabbing them he fumbled through another drawer. His hands shook as the more time went by, his nerves starting to ware on him. Feeling the cool stone beneath his fingers, he quickly grabbed the object and juggled the items over to the table.
As he skittered about, the animals that dwelled in the house appeared and inspected the girl. Mice and other rodents gathered around her and sniffed her out. A few of the hedgehogs got closer and rubbed against her cheek and limbs. When Radagast appeared at the table he saw all the animals around her, and feared that they would add to the infection. Frantically, he shooed them away with his hands and the creatures watched as he worked over her.
"Oh! I hope this works!" He worried, as he placed some herbs in a mortar and began grinding them. Taking the small stone pestle in his hands, he rolled the larger end around on the herbs. When they were grinded, he placed the herbs in another bowl before adding in a few liquids of various colors and fragrances. Together it made a sharp minty green paste that bubbled slightly, tiny bumps in the surface.
Unwrapping the dirtied rag from the girl's shoulder, he took a bowl of warm water and a cleaner cloth. Wetting it, he cleaned the wound and skin around the knife. The cloth turned red from the blood and colored the water before he was done. Moving the bowl away, he bent down low over the girl, eyes taking in the damage. The skin around the ragged wound was red, swollen and weeping a yellow, foul-smelling fluid. He reached a shaking finger out and touched the skin, pulling it back in shock from the heat.
"Oh dear, oh dear!" the wizard muttered. Then he placed his hand at the base of her neck. He waited a few moments, trying to find any sign of a pulse. A breath later he felt a slight beating, slow and faint. He frowned and went back to work, knowing that time was running short.
Carefully, he grabbed the hilt of the knife. In the other hand he held a fresh, clean cloth, ready to stop the bleeding. Slowly, he pulled the knife from her shoulder. Extracting the knife was more difficult than he thought. The blade went through muscle and tendons, making the process slow and careful as he tried to avoid the bones and arteries around it. A few moments later the knife came free and the wound started to bleed more. Quickly Radagast placed the fresh fabric on the wound, and applied ample pressure. But the hole wouldn't stop bleeding.
He chewed on his lower lip, his hairy brows shooting into his hairline. 'She'll bleed out by this rate!'
Thinking on his feet, Radagast spoke the first thing that came to mind.
The healing incantation flowed from his lips like a whisper in a language few would know. His eyes rolled back into his head as the magic sparked and flared in the air. The animals huddled together. The child groaned and twitched as the magic filled her, but she didn't wake. When the words were done, they lingered in the air like early morning fog, before they disappeared and the magic dissipated.
Sighing, Radagast relaxed. Then he peeked beneath the blood stained cloth. Blood no longer flowed from the wound, the veins mended, but it was still exposed to the elements.
Letting out a breath of relief, the wizard grabbed the paste and began spreading it over and around the wound. The skin was red and warm to the touch, the first signs of infection showing. Yellowed pus still leaked from the open wound, but the blood no longer ran with it. When the paste was applied thickly and evenly, he began to wrap it with bandages. After a few minutes, he was done. The girl was still alive and breathing normally.
Now, all he had to do was to wait.
The Grey Wizard wandered into the forest. The dirt path was dry and uneven. Dust kicked into the air with each step as his grey robes rubbed against the ground, an almost constant dirt cloud hovering around his feet. Rocks poked out from the surface, far enough to trip any unsuspecting traveler or stub their toes. Tree roots creeped into the path as well, playing with the travelers and messing up their footing, but Gandalf was ready. Using his staff, he leaned on the hard wood as he made his way through the forest.
Brambles ran across the path, snagging the old man's robes. Grumbling under his breath, the wizard snatched his clothing from the thorns as the trees came down and brushed against his tall pointed hat. With his left hand he finally pulled free of the vines and continued forward.
Nodding, Gandalf went on as the path led him through the younger part of the forest. The trees here were thinner, taking up less space as they shot up toward the sun and not giving much room for birds to perch. Bushes lined the path, where the dirt was the richest and sunlight shown through the thin canopy. Flowers of blues and reds bloomed from the shrubs and swayed in the wind as butterflies fluttered around them. Their sweet fragrances mixed with the miscellaneous bushels of mint, accenting the wind and tickling noses all around.
Soon the path began to widen and the babbling of a creek grew nearer. Humming from under his grey hat, Gandalf watched as the ground changed from brown to green. The dirt path fell away and thin blades of grass carpeted the area. The trees skirted around, creating a natural wall for the small clearing. The creek lazily wound through the few large rocks before disappearing back into the forest.
Gandalf smiled as the bees danced above the white and yellow field flowers, like children playing tag. The afternoon's sun heated his back through the rough fabric, but the breeze helped keep him cool. Continuing his wordless tune, he stepped around the large boulders that stood up to his height. When he walked around them the dainty flowers turned red and their honeyed scent fell under a thicker, coppery smell.
'What is this?' Gandalf thought as he slowed. Placing a hand on the cool stone, the wizard examined the small unnatural area. The once white flowers were now tainted and smashed down, and even the grass around them was not completely green.
Stepping forward, he waded through the still dew damp grass to get a closer look. Kneeling down, he used his wooden staff for support as his old eyes scanned over the stain. An old gnarled hand reached out from the grey robes and touched the flowers. Snapping one from the grass, Gandalf brought it closer to his face. The small petals were tainted with a dark maroon color that reeked of old copper.
'It's blood.' Gandalf frowned and looked away from the small flower in his hand. 'It is not from any animal and there is too much here for the creature to be conscious, so where did it go?'
Gazing around once more, Gandalf noticed no signs of any corpse or bones. The blood was mainly concentrated in that small area, suggesting that a large predator didn't drag the body away. The body was moved though, that much the old wizard was sure of. 'But where did it go?'
The cobwebs in his mind suddenly caught a thought. Rising to his feet, his knees popping loudly in the process, Gandalf nodded his head. Readjusting his hat, the wizard continued forward with a new purpose and a quicker stride. "I do believe it is time to visit a dear friend."
Following the familiar path into the Greenwood, Gandalf immersed himself into the trees. They grew tall and thick, making it hard to stumble from the main path. A mix of thin and large trees filled the area; short shrubbery grew around them and along the path, making the wood look cluttered. Other areas opened up, the lack of sunlight from the broad canopy in those areas made it hard for new trees to grow and thrive.
The summer breeze shifted the leaves, making them sway to the high pithed songs of the birds. Tiny creatures rattled the bushes as they scampered across the forest floor, crushing dried leaves beneath their feet. The birds exploded from the trees, something startling them into the air.
As he traveled, Gandalf's stride lengthened longer than any ordinary old man's stride should be. The dirt beneath his feet was thin and hard, the path used often by travelers and merchants, their booted feet compacting the dirt. His wide brimmed hat shadowed his face from whatever afternoon light trickled through the leaves, but his eyes were ever alert.
After the clearing disappeared a few miles back the path opened up to a small enclosure. Surrounding the area were varying trees of height, age and species. Needled branches swept from the air, creating an archway of everlasting green. The fragrance in the air represented every tree, each intake of breath different than the last. In the middle of the space was a large old tree, one of the oldest in the forest that grew from the middle of a small home.
Gandalf smiled at the familiar sight of Rhosgobel, the home of the Brown Wizard. Stopping just under the needled archway, the wizard adjusted his grey thick robes before continuing on. The tune died in his throat as his stride kept constant, full of purpose that led him to the door. Grabbing the red rusted knocker, he tapped it against the old crooked wood. From inside Gandalf heard his friends muffled mumblings as he approached the entry. A few moments later the heavy door opened and Radagast's raised wild eyebrows greeted him.
"Radagast the Brown! It's been far too long since we last spoke," Gandalf's resonating voice jovial as his smile grew wider. "How are you, my dear fellow?"
Sputtering, his friend tried to find his words, his eyes widening. "Gandalf, I-I'm so glad to see you!" Realization lightened his blue eyes as he continued, gesturing wildly for Gandalf to come in with big swopping motions of his sleeves. "Please step inside! Step inside, I need your help."
Then the curious wizard disappeared into his home, leaving Gandalf with his own raised eyebrows and suspicions. The smile fell away from his lips, vanishing into his greyed beard, as he stepped inside. As always Rhosgobel was just as cluttered as the forest floor toward the end of autumn, when the leaves had all turned and fallen. Tiny animals hurried across the old floor boards while birds flew in and out of the tiny windows.
Looking around, the other wizard was nowhere to be seen amongst the waves of miscellaneous things. He carefully picked his way to the back, trying hard to avoid the wildlife running about. Rounding the old tree that grew from the middle, he followed the other wizard up the rickety stairs. They creaked and groaned as Gandalf placed his feet on the rotting wood. When he reached the top he was relieved that the clutter hadn't made it up the stairs.
Birds nested in the rafters, their younglings resting inside and making loud high-pitched chirps as their parents ignored them. The only light came from the small window above the bed. Across the room, Radagast stood over the single cot, his weathered hands rubbing over each other as he waited. With growing curiosity, Gandalf walked up to his skittish friend, his staff forgotten at the head of the stairs.
The birds grew silent; the only sound was the heavy breathing and worrying mutters. When the Grey Wizard drew closer, his breath snagged in his throat. Lying in the bed was a small child. Her skin was pale and shiny as her body twitched beneath the sheets. Red tinted her plump cheeks and her eyes shifted rapidly beneath their lids.
"She's fevered," Gandalf stated as he came closer. Looking at Radagast his eyes demanded an answer, but his tone was much gentler. "What happened?"
The wizard worried his lower lip with his teeth, smashing it between the two rows as he continued to fiddle with his hands. His eyes lowered and slid away from the other wizard. Instead they rested on the child that he had been caring for the past few days. Her condition had gotten progressively worse after the first day and Radagast was desperate.
"I found her bleeding, so much blood. She was dying!" His wrinkled hands rubbed together faster, his eyes not leaving the girl. A pained expression crossed his face, his frown deepening and eyebrows scrunching together on his forehead. "I couldn't just leave her."
Gandalf could hear the frantic tone in the other wizard's words and the sleeplessness that darkened the skin beneath his eyes. Sympathy softened Gandalf's eyes as he placed a reassuring hand on the Brown Wizard's shaking shoulders. Radagast's hands stilled as his shoulders slumped slightly, but it had no effect on the anxiety that leaked from his words. "I tried to help. I really did! But I can't seem to get rid of the fever. Oh Gandalf, you know I'm better with animals than sentient life!"
The Grey Wizard nodded, answering the unspoken request as he stepped forward. Grabbing ahold of the bedpost, he carefully knelt down to get a closer look. Her skin was pale, but not the color of death. A light layer of sweat covered her exposed flesh, reflecting the light from the open window above her. Her eyes constantly shifted beneath the lids as if she were trapped in a never ending nightmare. Reaching out an old gnarled hand, he tested her slick forehead. His touch felt icy compared to the heat that radiated from her brow, pulsing like dragon's fire.
Frowning, Gandalf took back his hand and examined her shoulder. He could hear Radagast's dry skin rubbing together as he stood over him. Unwrapping the soiled material, he revealed the healing wound. The bleeding had stopped, and the open flesh started to knit itself together, red and inflamed. Pus oozed from the infected injury.
Looking at the child once more, he could feel that her time was not yet done. Her face didn't scrunch together in pain alone, but also in determination. Teeth clenched behind slightly parted lips. Tiny hands fisted in the sheets, white knuckles showing, as she fought against the fever that consumed her body.
With a sigh he reached out and placed his hand on her forehead once more. 'Yes, her journey is far from over.'
"I think she will be fine," Gandalf spoke, silencing Radagast's worried mumblings. The Brown Wizard looked at him, question seeping into his eyes as his hands ceased their movements again. Gandalf's lips twitched, the smile breaking through the wrinkles of timeless age.
"What will we do?" Radagast asked as his body relaxed from Gandalf's reassurance and he lowered his hands.
Gandalf kept his hand on the girl, the heat warming it, as his other stroked his beard. Her breathing calmed, her chest no longer rising like the ocean waves during a storm. But her brows came together as her nose wrinkled, all the pain from the fight evident on her face.
The words left his mouth before he knew it. They formed a simple mantra, pulling small amounts of magic from the musty air. It was like the mist of the mountains, quiet and faint as it stirred the birds above. Gandalf's eyes closed as the power flowed from his hand and into the girl, acting like a conduit for the magic.
Radagast watched, a frown pulling at his champed lips, as the girl reacted to the magic. She groaned as the ancient words swirled around her. Her breathing labored for a few moments before it calmed once more. The sheets stopped wrestling as her legs stilled and the rest of her body relaxed. Thin eyebrows twitched and released, settling back into place as her nose flared and relaxed. After a few lines, the words faded and vanished, like the sun evaporating the morning mist.
"This should help with the fever," Gandalf sighed after a few breathes, retracting his hand tentatively. His eyes opened and stared at Radagast's stone figure. "But her body will still have to fight."
Radagast was silent, his weathered face emotionless as his hands began to worry the other again. His eyes though held it all, mirroring his chaotic thoughts aloud. The Grey Wizard noticed another question that wasn't yet uttered, the wrinkled fuzzy brown eyebrows hinting at its existence.
"Give her a while longer, she is still a child," Gandalf smiled, touched by his friend's concern for something other than a furry forest creature. The birds that sat in the high rafters all chattered, either to themselves or to the Brown Wizard, Gandalf didn't know. But Radagast's shoulders loosened, the stone expression crumbling under the relief.
Looking back at the girl beneath the sheets, her strange appearance tickled his curiosity. Her red wild hair spread out around her. The pale skin no longer shinned so brightly in the light, revealing dark speckles across her cheeks. Eyes rolled under the loose fluttering lashes, the nightmare passing with the worst of the fever.
Gandalf's curiosity continued to grow as the wound popped out at him. Why was someone so young so far from any settlement? Why did she have such an injury? His thoughts forced themselves aloud as they surfaced in his mind. "Radagast, where did you find this child of Men?"
"In the forest a few mornings ago," The wizard answered after a few moments of listening to the birds. Their excitement died down a little as his eyes shifted to Gandalf, "In a clearing with a creek."
The Grey Wizard nodded as his bones creaked, popping as he stood, his hand grabbing a hold of the bed post for support. His earlier questions were answered, but a few still remained that weighed on him. "Was she alone?"
Radagast nodded, his eyes still fixed on the sleeping child. "Except for the crows that kept her company."
