Eight

Running

Moonlight still eerily slips through the canopy when I come to my senses. The wood is unsettlingly still. Elhadron and Sereg both lay silent, Sereg on his side and Elhadron with a blank face staring out to the world. A lone wolf forlornly cries. Besides a few guards, none but myself are awake. I decide that now is the time to make my move.

Pensively I sit up, surprised at the rate that my stiffness has departed from me. My hunger is my only real obstruction, but I deem that I can deal with that later. I lift a hesitant hand to my face, running it over my temples, my jaw, my nose. When no part of me responds with hostile pain, my heart leaps into my throat.

The bruises, the gashes, are gone.

If anyone sees me, even in my filthy, half-starved state…

Frantic but silent I get to my feet. Apprehensively I tiptoe around, grabbing hold of the first set of weapons I can get my hands on, which, as the will of the Valar would prove, are of a much better make than my originals. Beside a short sword and a bow and quiver, I snag a sturdy hunting knife. I then slip back to my makeshift bed and grab one of the blankets.

My new knife whispers as I unsheathe it. Hurriedly I saw about six inches from the bottom of the blanket and tie the scrap fast over my features. When I yank the hood up, my countenance melts into one mysterious and lonely shadow, and my eyes fill with tears.

Aradan.

My thoughts travel back to the gallant Ranger. To how much he cared. And to how much I truly did love him, despite my feigned hatred and genuine mistrust. I long to see him again, and I suddenly realize that though I know that my kinsman retrieved his body, I have not the slightest idea as to what they did with it. Before I depart, I tell myself, I must find out.

Wrapping myself in my cloak and my blankets to conceal my weapons and shut out the cold, I slip away from the fire and into the shadows. My heart drops when I almost run headlong into a sentry. By some wonder, he softly smiles.

"It is good to see you up and moving. Indeed, Lord Elhadron is truly a miracle worker. The sun has not yet risen, and yet here you are."

Suspicion creeps into his voice and causes me to cringe. But when his face softens, I relax.

"I deem that you are wondering what became of your friend."

Dejectedly and rather curtly I nod.

"We are taking him back to the palace. Apparently he is a good friend of King Thranduil, as well as Lord Elhadron and poor Lady Caladhiel. Alas, she would be heartbroken if she knew."

My friend, I long to say, you have no idea…

"Where is he now?" I croak, my words gravelly and low.

"Come," he replies, "I will take you to him."

Nodding, I follow him past two other sentries and into a small clearing. Torchlight forlornly dances in my eyes and wisps around a solitary figure that lies lifeless on a makeshift litter.

The guard lays a gentle hand on my shoulder as he whispers, "I take my leave."

His footfall on the foliage fades away into the bleak and pours loneliness into me. I am immediately attacked by the cold. I step forward, kneel beside the stretcher, and slip the mask from my face. I have nothing to hide from him.

Peaceful and ghastly in the firelight Aradan lies sleeping. The icy air leaks into my cocoon when my hand slips from its confines and gingerly touches Aradan's raven hair. My hot tears fall freely onto his cold and ashen face. My seclusion, though it gnaws at my spirit, now becomes an ally. For the first time since my capture, I fully succumb to my confusion at this thing called death, my sorrow at my friend's passing, and my incommunicable rage at myself.

"Why did I ever leave you?" I soundlessly sob. "Why did I ever leave home? If it had not been for my foolishness, none of this ever would have happened. I am so sorry, Aradan. For everything. For being so selfish. For being so cruel. Why did I not just accept your friendship? Why was I so blind? And, by the Valar, why in all of Arda did I hide? I could have died beside you. I would have. I should have! I should be in your place, for I am the one that deserves it! Forgive me, Aradan! I implore you, forgive me!"

For how long I sit there I do not know. For hours it seems I stare into his lifeless face and ruthlessly scold myself without making a sound. But when the sun begins to creep over the tree line and a soft and agile footfall approaches, I know my precious time with him is running out. I spring to my feet, yank up the mask, and flee into the thickets like a frightened fawn. The crunch of the foliage grows nearer; I crouch in the bushes and wait.

At last Elhadron appears. Sadness, worry, even betrayal gleam in his eyes; he looks back and forth between the trees for any sign of life or movement. His eyes meet mine, though he does not realize it, and my heart begins to pound as a war drum. I long to run, but I cannot rip myself away.

Finally he breaks the connection. His eyes scan the canopy; he turns around a few times before I just barely pick up his soft words over the song of the night.

"Lady Caladhiel?"

My heart leaps and sinks all at the same time.

His voice raises.

"Caladhiel?"

I bite my lip.

He sighs and his proud stature slumps.

"I thought I heard you…"

Inwardly I chastise myself for my weakness as more tears stream down my face.

His face is bathed in a single stream of white moonlight as he directs his gaze heavenwards.

"We will find you, my princess," he softly promises. "We will get you home. We will get you back to your father. Just hold on. I beg you…hold on…"

That is all I can force myself to listen to. Bidding soft and final goodbye to Aradan, I slowly rise and slink away. When out of earshot, I begin running. Swift, hard, and silent. Fear, guilt, shock drive me onwards, driving out the burn that has started to seep into my muscles. I think nothing of provisions. I think nothing of my bearings. I think nothing of survival. My sole desire is escape.

Darkness blinds me. Tree roots snap at my ankles, longing to catch me in their grasp and drag me down to the forest floor. I duck, jump, sidestep, but never stop running. Even as the sun slips up into the sky, I still press onwards. Eventually adrenaline's elixir wears off, but still I crash through the trees. Roaring with hunger, my stomach flips over itself, and the rest of my body screams for quarter. Finally, after hours of speed, my body collapses under the exertion.

I flop face down in sweet grass; I grab hold of clumps and haul myself forward, bit by agonizing bit. Warmth bathes me, and an unbearable light attacks my eyes, which are held unbreakably shut. At last I succeed at prying my eyelids apart, and the sight before me knocks the wind out of me.

A pale sky stretches over an expanse of gold, barren field. The sun, wherever she may be, masks herself behind walls of cloud. Behind me stands the solid black-green wall of the forest. I begin to shake uncontrollably. Finally I manage to haul myself to my feet. Thunder rumbles.

For the first time in sixty years, I am out of Mirkwood.

Leaving all security behind and having no way of knowing what direction I take, I trudge forward. After some time the heavens break open; a thick sheet of late autumn rain drenches me. I pull my cloak tight to my body and stumble on. Finally my stubbornness wears out and I involuntarily collapse in the mud, completely lost, cold and alone.