South of Forochel. March 30, SA 542
THRANDUIL glanced at Eryn. Just as he feared, once they entered the forest of mostly pines and spruce, the trail became harder to see. Leaves, wet from the previous two days of rain, covered the floor like a thick rug.
They had run several leagues since leaving the scene of the battle. Thranduil looked up past the canopy of the trees. It should be well past midday now, but you could not tell by the frowning sky above. Although fogs dissipated, everything looked dark and gray.
The forest was strangely silent, even the trees. No birds stirred, no movements of animals. Only the occasional creak and snap of the branches disturbed the silence. It was as if all life in the forest disappeared, and they were the only ones left in the world. And yet, Thranduil felt as if he was being watched.
Perhaps it was Baldor and Thoron. Thranduil scanned the cold forest once again. Were those two Silmacils watching them? Earlier in the morning, when he looked up, Thranduil thought Thoron's eyes met his. It was brief, just a passing moment before Thoron turned away, but Thranduil could not shake the feeling the Noldorin warrior saw him. But if that was so, where were they now?
Help me, please. Thranduil touched a young spruce nearest him, his hand sliding over its rough bark. If you have seen Orcs or others of our people, please help me find them.
But the tree trembled under his hand.
What frightens you?
The tree would not say.
"Do you see anything?" Thranduil turned to Eryn, who had her head on the ground, searching for the tracks. "I see nothing. The floor is too wet and too thickly carpeted."
Eryn shook her head, her lips puffed out into a pout. The Green Elf was not at all what Thranduil expected. With each passing day, Thranduil was convinced that Eryn was not who she seemed to be. He wasn't even sure she was a good archer. The only thing Thranduil was certain about Eryn was her exceptional eyesight and stamina.
"Don't see nothing worth noting, but I sure they went this way. The Orcs have a strange stench to them and I smell here, although it faint. If they went through here, we'll find them." Eryn sprinted away.
"Did you ask the trees?" Elrond moved to his side and whispered in Quenya.
Thranduil shook his head. Fear knotted his stomach, doubt and fear warring inside. He wasn't sure whether it was because Aron was in mortal danger or because there was some unknown threat about them. He took in a sharp breath to clear his head.
Dull pain flashed through his arm, and he grimaced. Thranduil tried to ignore it, but the pain was constant now. He splayed his fingers wide then clenched them, trying to ease the painful seizure that swept through his arm. He steeled himself to prevent his other hand from rubbing away the pain. He didn't want Elrond to know.
Eryn buzzed about, sprinting up and down the hillside. Nothing seems to dampen her spirit or stamina. The woman certainly had a lot of energy.
"What if we took the wrong trail?" Thranduil closed his eyes briefly.
"If Aron and Gwinion are on the other trail, our soldiers will find them. Greater numbers went that way, remember? You said only four of ours came this way."
"And perhaps a hunter or two. Their tracks are almost impossible to detect."
"But not more than by few. I know your skill. You are rarely wrong. And we have Eryn. It matches her assessment that about twenty Orcs went this way. That means our people will face three to one odd. We will be more useful here."
"Yes, if we can find the trail. With all these wet leaves on the ground…" Thranduil kicked a wet clump by his feet, then glanced at Eryn who was far ahead of them, climbing the rocky hillside. "And I am beginning to think she is not even an archer, at least not a reliable one."
Elrond let out a long sigh. "Come, Thranduil. Can you not be so suspicious? She is your friend's wife. He chose her. Isn't that good enough to trust her? Do you not trust your friend?"
"I trust Durion. But I don't know her."
He wanted to trust her. She was friendly, smart, and skilled. But looks could deceive, and Thranduil knew the cruel cost of a blind trust. He had lost too much and too many by trusting the wrong people. He had sworn that he would never be so naïve again.
As to Eryn, he honestly wanted to like her. If not for the woman's sake, then for Durion. Thranduil understood that she may have been what Durion had referred to when he talked about a 'surprise.' And she was a Green-elf, more akin to him than any Noldo. No Green-elf had ever done him wrong. Still, something bothered him.
"She is holding something back."
"You are one to talk," Elrond snorted. "Perhaps she could feel you don't trust her."
"Don't you find it strange? Why does she insist on speaking in Sindarin and not in her own tongue? She even sings to Elbereth in Sindarin."
"Well, why did you sing it in Silvan that first night when you normally sing in Sindarin."
"I was trying to lead her to sing it in her tongue. But, she only speaks a word here or there. And I am sure you noticed the Doriathrin accent, did you not?"
Elrond shrugged. "She has been with Durion for a decade. Doriathrin accent is distinct. She probably picked it up from her husband."
Eryn did not live at Menegroth, that was apparent by the way she spoke. But most Green Elves who lived in Doriath lived outside the great city. They did not like being surrounded by stones. Even Glineth, who served his family for years, never slept inside Menegroth. But it wasn't about her lack of eloquence when she spoke. Eryn was not born a noble, Thranduil perceived, but that was not what bothered him.
"But how about the way she handles her weapon?"
Weapons are the lifeline to a warrior. Keeping their weapons well cared for was not only practical, it was necessary. A dull or broken weapon meant life or death. Whenever they had time, every warrior checked their weapons, honed them, or oil them as necessary to keep them at their optimal condition.
"She carries her bow already strung. On her back. In the rain. Who does that?"
"You need to trust people more, Thranduil." Elrond shook his head. "You don't trust enough."
"And you trust too much. All I am saying is that not everything looks all right to me."
"Maybe Green-elves found a permanent spell to keep water out of their bows and arrows." Elrond shrugged as if it was nothing. "Maybe they found a way to keep their bowstrings from getting wet and becoming useless? They are the best archers, you said. Perhaps they know something we don't. We still don't know much about them. They are called the 'hidden people' for a reason, Thranduil. We cannot assume anything."
Elrond was probably right. Thranduil stretched the muscles of his left arm. He knew Elrond's special talents and knew he should trust the Half-elven when it came to people, but Elrond tended to see everyone as good first, until they gave him a reason to think otherwise. That seemed like a good way for one to be betrayed, lied to, or worse, used.
"If you feel so strongly, try talking to her instead of making assumptions. She is one of us. If we can't trust our own people, who will we trust? It is precisely this mentality that causes division." Elrond sighed. "Isn't it bad enough that the Dwarves think we had betrayed them? Do we need to be suspicious of each other?"
Thranduil rubbed at the back of his head. Elrond was right. He usually was.
"Wait, where is Eryn?" Elrond nudged Thranduil. "She was here a moment ago."
A dread seized Thranduil, and he hurried up the rocky hill, followed closely by Elrond. At the top of the hill, Eryn stood in the middle of a fallen tree trunk, dried white and pale, naked of its bark. Half of it hung precariously over a cliff.
Thranduil approached the edge of the hill and looked down. The side of the hill which sat on a large boulder had collapsed, creating a drop of several stories. The chunks of boulders and earth had tumbled a quarter league below onto a narrow strip of an open glade at the edge of the forest, strewn with rocks and low growing bushes. Occasional trees marked the line where the forest ended and the barren upland began, beyond which was hidden behind the grayness of the clouds.
"We have to go around that way." She pointed to west where the hill sloped more gently. "I found muddy tracks that led down. Very steep slope but not as steep as this." Eryn chewed on her lower lip.
"What is it you are not telling me?" Thranduil asked.
Eryn turned and looked up at him. She seemed to hesitate a moment. "The wolves," she pointed to Thranduil's right. A pack of wolves, not one but two separate groups were on their way, each spread wide among the trees as if they were in the middle of a hunt, trying to herd their prey. It would not have been unusual except there were too many of them, and Thranduil could not see any animal they were preying on.
"You think they are targeting our people?"
"Not that many wolves hunt together. And the tracks, it leads down there where the wolves seem to head…" she chewed on her lip again. "Not sure. I could be seeing too much into this."
"No. You are probably right," Thranduil determined after watching the wolves skulk among the bushes. Thranduil scanned the woodland in front of him.
"If you look at the direction those wolves are taking, they are heading this way," Elrond who caught up to them said.
"There!" Sharp-eyed as ever, Eryn pointed to an area just below them.
Far below the crag where they stood, there was a movement among the bushes. About a score of Orcs was engaged in a battle. Their armor was covered in mud which made it difficult to notice them among the grays of the rocks and the black and brown of the earth. Opposing them were seven Elves, four in the king's plate armor. The Orcs outnumbered the Elves three to one, but the Elves were standing their ground, but barely. The Elves were also covered in mud as if they had tumbled on them, making them blend into the surrounding elements.
She behaved questionably at times, but Eryn's eyesight was admirably sharp. Thranduil knew they would not have caught up to those who went before them without her.
Among the Elves, one of them had a hair lighter than all of them. Thranduil's heart skipped when he spotted him.
"It's Aron." Thranduil swallowed a lump and blinked away the sting in his eyes.
"Are you sure?" Elrond stepped closer to the edge to look more closely.
"I'm certain."
"The wolves, they have started to run," Eryn said.
"They will turn the tide." Elrond's anguished voice slapped Thranduil's excited mind into focus.
One of the Elves must have seen the wolves coming behind them. He disengaged from the scuffle, took out a horn and blew a familiar note. He was calling for any fellow warriors for help. The clear notes resounded around the forest.
Thranduil wasn't sure if anyone besides them would have heard the sound, though. The others would be too far away.
As if the sound of the horn called for them, the wolves picked up speed. In a few minutes, they would overwhelm the already besieged Elves.
"We have to get down there."
"We wouldn't make it in time," Eryn said her face dark and grave. "We have to go further down the hill before the slope becomes gentle enough to climb down. Even if we are at our top speed, it will take close to an hour to get down there."
"Thranduil." Elrond's hand dug painfully into Thranduil's upper arm. He looked up where Elrond pointed, and his heart turned cold.
"Oh, no." Eryn hid her mouth behind her hands.
Out of the gray clouds of the upland where the line of forest faded into clouds, a horde of wargs were coming this way and behind them a company of Orcs, at least three score of them. They were only about three leagues away. Orcs may take up to two hours, but the wargs, they were running. They would be here within an hour.
Thranduil's heart almost stopped.
"We have to aid them, find a way to warn them before it is too late."
Thranduil looked around him, his heart boomed, deafening all sounds. He glanced at the wolves which were almost upon the group fighting below them. Behind the pack of wolves, an enormous bear rushed after them.
"Let's go straight down. It is the only way. We can safeguard their back from the wolves. We will need to end this engagement as quickly as possible and find a more suitable place to face the oncoming horde."
"Straight down? You not making sense. See the drop? All those rocks and the wet grasses." Eryn waved her arms around. "One wrong step and we tumble down and get smashed on those rocks."
"Mistress Eryn is right, Thranduil. It is madness to go straight down. It is too steep. If we injure ourselves on the way, we wouldn't be able to help anyone. We have to trust that they will hold on until we get down there. Safely."
Thranduil took out his sword and chopped down the small branches on the side of the dead tree trunk.
"Help me seal the wood."
"Thranduil, please. Listen to reason."
"You crazy. Oh, Durion warned me. You are mad." Eryn was babbling, but Thranduil ignored her and grabbed the oil in his pack.
Thranduil poured the oil onto the dry side of the tree trunk.
"Seal as in…" Elrond frowned.
"The way we seal the bows and strings to keep the water out." He didn't have time to explain.
"But with the wet grass that would make the tree trunk…slippery!"
Thranduil thanked the Valar for Elrond who understood quickly.
"Instead of going down this cliff, Thranduil, let's ride the trunk down the slope of the hill following the tracks. It is gentler so there is less likelihood of something going wrong. If we slide down the slope we could arrive in good time to help them fight off the wolves. They will need to hold off for just a few minutes longer."
"Few minutes could mean life or death, Elrond. This will work. Trust me."
Eryn frowned and shook her head, but she helped with the sealing of the wood. She was skilled of hand, and in no time, the three sang the spell to cure the seal, creating a smooth glass-like surface on one side of the trunk.
"Don't like this," Eryn said as they moved the tree trunk into position with the heaviest and the widest part of the trunk hanging over the cliff. It was just long enough for three of them to stand comfortably.
"The cliff's too steep. Tree trunk not heavy enough. And we too light. We will pick up too much speed and we will crash."
"We won't. If we balance it right, we will be fine," Thranduil hoped as he strung his bow and jumped onto the front where the trunk was the widest and the heaviest. Eryn jumped on behind Thranduil. Elrond who held the tree trunk as they jumped on, let go and jumped up behind Eryn.
"Lean forward!" Thranduil said, but it was unnecessary. The trunk flew forward and sailed over the wet grass picking up blinding speed. Rocks blurred past them as Thranduil grabbed a handful of arrows to get the bow ready.
Suddenly a large boulder rose in front of them.
"Lean back! Lean back!" Thranduil shouted, turning around with a warning on his lips, hoping to slow the speed.
"Watch out!" Elrond's sharp command made Thranduil turn to eye the front when a boulder came at him. The tree trunk hit it. The force of the hit flip the tree trunk, throwing the trunk and the three of them into the air.
"Aaaaak!" Screams ripped through Thranduil's mind.
The trunk swung. Thranduil flipped once in the air, trying to right himself. But, there was nothing under his feet.
Roll! His mind shouted. But before he could, he was thrown violently onto the ground.
"Out of the way!" Someone screamed. Thranduil rolled over as the tree trunk rammed the space he had previously occupied, spreading dirt and debris. Thranduil lifted his head when a body flew onto him, smacking him back onto the ground.
Groaning, Thranduil turned to find Elrond on top of him. The Half-elven gritted his teeth as he rolled over onto the ground next to Thranduil.
"I am never listening to you, ever again," Elrond said with a glare as he sat up grunting.
"We got down here in one piece."
"Don't talk to me, you crazy Orc. Why do I keep listening to you? Why don't you ever listen?"
"You almost got us killed," Eryn said, picking off the tree branches off her hair. "If the tree didn't catch me, I would have broken something."
"I might have broken something," Thranduil said, wincing at the sharp pain in his left shoulder.
"Where?" Elrond grabbed Thranduil, dragging him up into a sitting position.
"Just my left arm. I don't know if something broke, or just the old pain." Thranduil massaged his upper arm which pulled painfully.
"The wolves!" Eryn took out her dagger. "They are here."
But it was the clanging of metal that reached them first. Thranduil sat up and reached for his bow, but there was no bow, no quiver, and no pack.
Cursing out loud, Thranduil grabbed his sword when a wolf flew at him, knocking him back on the ground with a thud. The sword flew off his hand.
The beast growled, baring its fangs. Snapping furiously, the wolf lunged for Thranduil's throat. The Sinda grabbed its mouth as its sharp fangs tore through his hand. Gritting his teeth, Thranduil yelled and wrapped his legs over the wolf's torso. They rolled over, Thranduil trying to reach the dropped sword, and the wolf pushing to tear out Thranduil's neck.
Thranduil smashed his head against the beast's head, surprising it when the wolf yelped as it loosened its brute strength against Thranduil's hands when an arrow struck its head. The beast screeched an ear-splitting yowl before it fell forward. Thranduil rolled, grabbing the wolf's head into his arms as another arrow landed, just barely missing his head.
Thranduil sat up, kicking away the wolf's carcass, and turned to the direction the arrow came. It was Eryn. She had climbed one of the taller boulders nearest them. With her bow in her hands, she was shooting arrow after arrow, half of them hitting, and the other half totally missing their mark.
Quenya-language of the high Elves from Valinor. Both Noldor and Vanyar used it with slight variances. In the First Age, Noldor used it among themselves, but when Thingol forbid its use (upon learning the kinslaying by Feanorians), Noldor, who already learned Sindarin, adopted the language of the Sindar. By the Second Age, all Elves spoke Sindarin except for the Nandor (Green Elves and the Silvan Elves) who had their own language.
League-distance equivalent to three miles.
Doriathrin accent-According to Tolkien, the Sindarin used in the court of Doriath (thus at Menegroth) had a distinct accent that made it easy for others to distinguish it.
Glineth-Nandorin Elf OC from Part 1 who is Thranduil's nurse (someone Thranduil considers like a second mother)