"Here Balin, I think this is the last of it." Lostoriel handed the carefully wrapped basket of twice-baked cakes onto the steadily growing pile of bags on Balin's chestnut pony.
Balin grabbed one of the loose ends of rope that currently held his luggage together and handed the other to Lostoriel, who immediately began to tie it to the saddle.
"Thank you, lass." He said as he finished off the complex series of knots and adjusted the weight of the bags on his laden pony. "Have you packed everything you need? Also, have you eaten anything yet lass? There's still left- overs from breakfast if you're hungry."
Lostoriel smiled appreciatively at Balin. Between him, Dwalin and Bilbo she was well looked after, though she knew that Balin had been mother-henning around her more since her fight with Thorin. And truth be told, she wasn't against it at all. Balin was a sweet, old dwarf, stern and sarcastic, but kind, nonetheless.
"You needn't worry about me Balin. I've been packed since last night." This was a lie. Lostoriel had woken up late and hastily shoved her belongings into a bag and then dashed out into the barn to help them with last minute packing.
"And I've eaten already, though Bilbo's tempted me to a second breakfast at least twice in the last hour. And while I'm at it, we've packed the last of the vegetables on Fili's pony and Beorn's spared us a third reel of rope just in case."
Balin laughed and stole an amused glance at the flustered hobbit who was struggling to saddle his pony. "That's good, we'll be off in no time. If you need anything else tell me and I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you Balin, but you really don't need to fuss over me. I've done my fair share of travelling through the years."
He scoffed as if she were telling him that the sun shone in the twilight and the moon in the day. "Nonsense lass." Balin gently placed his wrinkled hand over hers, "I know you have Lostoriel, but everyone needs someone to fuss over them once in a while and truth be told lass I have grown rather fond of you."
Lostoriel thought she had seen everything life had to offer in her long existence, but hearing a dwarf as old and set in his ways as Balin say that he cared for her was a shock and there was no doubt about it.
He sucked in a deep breath and then plunged with extreme trepidation, "More so, I've been worried about you lass. You don't… Have to bear this alone you know. Thorin is hard-headed and stubborn as the mountains themselves, but we're all here for you. Are you alright Lostoriel?"
His words came as a surprise and Lostoriel found a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. Last night the idea of travelling further east, of travelling 'home' had seemed like a far-off, wistful dream. But now standing in Beorn's saddling yard, saddling their horses, and preparing to ride, Lostoriel felt the horrid sensation of reality descend upon her. She was going home, where she could very well see her family again and her people. Or die. Whichever one came first really.
It was too much to bear along with the growing rift between her and Thorin. He and her had still not spoken, not that she intended too anytime soon. Lostoriel was too busy being preoccupied with trying to find a way to get them through the forest safely and to get herself through the whole situation in one piece. All in all, Lostoriel was hanging on by the hastily fraying ends of a string.
Despite all this Lostoriel was grateful for Balin's honesty and his kindness. Funnily enough she felt that it was Balin who understood her the most out of all the Dwarves and Bilbo. Perhaps it was his age or the fact that he distinctly reminded her of Galion, her father's right-hand ellon. Balin had wide shoulders and maybe she would allow him to carry some of the weight that rested upon hers.
"I'm nowhere near alright Balin, but I will get there soon enough." Lostoriel placed her other hand on his, "Thank you for your kind words, you do not realise how much it means to me."
Balin was about to answer when the shrill, screeching of the carrion birds roared above them like some squawking storm. They flew as an undulating black cloud over the clearing and beyond the thick tree line that shielded them from the unfriendly eyes of their pursuers. The Company paused and watched as they passed over. Thorin locked eyes with Lostoriel from where he sat atop his pony, the message clear in both their features. He was afraid, but that fear soon darkened into anger and then into something Lostoriel could not place and Thorin tore his gaze away from hers.
"We are being watched," remarked Gandalf, his brows set in a thick line of concern.
Lostoriel's stomach flipped as she left Balin and hurried to her horse. Quickly throwing the thick blanket onto his back, she set the leather saddle on top then buckled up the straps as quickly and efficiently as she could.
They needed to get moving and soon. She glared at the chestnut gelding who tried to bite at her sleeves and stared at her with what she could only describe as annoyance in his glassy brown eyes. She bent down to tighten Biter's girth strap whilst Gandalf continued to stare at the sky as if the answers to all his questions would simply fall upon him. She knew from past battles that the orcs, or at least those ones with enough intelligence, often used birds to do a reconnaissance sweep on their enemies. It was a quick and effective technique and one she despised with a fiery hatred. The fair creatures of the earth being used for evil deeds had always been a sore point for the WoodElves, who regarded all life with respect and dignity.
Biter lived up to his namesake and nipped at her shoulder as she slipped the leather through the buckle and swore. The horse gave her a side-long stare, as if daring her to retaliate.
"Why you little-" She huffed as she glared at the loosened strap. The damned horse had held his breath as she had been tightening the girth. It was an old trick that every horse did at least once so that the saddle would be loose and comfortable, whilst their riders could fall off at any moment. Lostoriel's glare went from frosty to winter ice as she hastily undid the buckle and felt Biter suck in another deep breath. How she could have fallen for that old trick she didn't know.
"You know Biter," she said as she kneed him between the ribs and re-tightened the strap when he released the pent-up air, "You really should learn some new tricks mellon-nὶn."
" Yes," agreed Beorn from behind her. "The Orcs will not give up. They will hunt the dwarves until they see them destroyed."
This time she halted her movements and quickly moved to inspect Biter's hooves. The last thing she wanted was Biter to go lame whilst they were riding for their lives. Lostoriel prayed that he wouldn't live up to his name and decide to nibble on her hair. She understood now why Gandalf had insisted on riding upon the grey mare and cursed the wizard for doing so.
"Why now? What has made the Defiler crawl from his hole?" asked Gandalf with such graveness in his voice that Lostoriel's stomach sank to the ground. If Azog was after the Company then he would be after her too. How they were to travel across leagues of open land without being spotted was beyond her. Sixteen travellers would leave a trail, no matter what route they took.
"What do you know of this sorcerer? The one they call the Necromancer?" continued Gandalf as Lostoriel peered between Biter's legs at the tall wizard and skin-changer, who stood scanning the skies for any further spies.
"I know he is not what he seems," answered Beorn as his piercing gaze caught Lostoriel staring in their direction. "Fell things are drawn to his power. Azog pays homage to him."
Her stomach flipped again, and she immediately averted her gaze and busied herself with rechecking that her bedroll and pack were properly tied to her saddle, whilst still eavesdropping on their conversation. He is not what he seems. Beorn's words weighed heavily on Lostoriel's mind and she was taken back to when she had seen a flash of 'the eye' all those nights ago.
No, she told herself again when the cold breeze brushed past her face, it was just her imagination going wild again.
"There is more," continued Beorn in a grim voice, "not long past word had spread that the dead had been seen walking near the high fells of Rhudaur."
"The dead?"
This time Lostoriel didn't bother hiding her astonishment and gaped at Beorn. The High Fells of Rhudaur had been abandoned and forgotten by many for centuries since before she was born. She had heard rumours of the evil that was buried within those mountains. She had heard the harrowing tales of the fallen kings who had succumbed to the power of the nine rings. But this was beyond terrifying. There was only one power that she knew of that could bring back such evil and it was long since defeated.
"Is it true? Are there tombs in those mountains?" asked Beorn, his face set in stony lines of worry as his gaze flitted between Gandalf and Lostoriel who was still staring at the pair.
A cold shiver had her har pricking upwards as it ran up her spine. Lostoriel recalled fragments of the legend in her memory.
"Yes, there are tombs there."
Gandalf's soft voice tugged her from her thoughts, and she shuddered again, inching her sword from its scabbard for the sake of her own peace of mind. Terrifying as it might be, it was just a rumour and she had never been one to solidify her beliefs on such flighty things. However, from their short time spent together she knew that Beorn was an honourable man and that he did not speak of, nor believe rumours lightly. If he was seeking Mithrandir's council on this word of mouth, then surely something was afoot.
Beorn looked straight at her and beckoned her towards them. The elf stood guilty as a child caught in the act of breaking the rules, having enough humility to at least look shame-faced for her eaves- dropping. Lostoriel flashed Gandalf an apologetic smile before handing Biter's reins to Nori and joining them.
"I have heard the tales of Angmar and Rhudaur, though I don't remember them in full," began Lostoriel in a quiet voice.
The harrowing tale had been told to her as a young child by the warriors who had been alive long enough to have fought against the terrible evil that arose from Angmar. She shuddered again as a cold shiver ran up her spine, "The tombs in Rhudaur were meant to serve as a prison to withhold the evil that had been buried there all that time ago, if I am not mistaken Mithrandir?"
The wizard nodded grimly, seeming older and wearier than Lostoriel had seen him ever look before.
"The legend holds that when Angmar fell, the men of the North took his body and buried it within a grave dug so deep within the rock and enchanted so that it would the light would never touch it again. However, if I recall correctly, he was only the first of nine to be buried there. If what you speak of is true Beorn, I- "
What Lostoriel thought, they never got to hear when Dwalin, who had been glaring at Sunflower, called out to her, "Oy lass! Could you get your dog to stop sniffing about my things?"
Both Beorn and Gandalf shook their heads in exasperation.
"He truly has not taken to her, has he?" asked Beorn with a look ranging somewhere between annoyance and amusement.
"It appears not," Gandalf said tiredly, "though I strongly suggest you go and break up…Whatever quarrel that's happening between them before they try to kill each other, my dear."
Lostoriel raised her brows and made her way back into the throng of bustling Dwarves, watching as Sunflower whined and panted in front of Dwalin, obviously wanting the dried meat that he had stored within one of the bags.
"Good. Time you got a reign on that excitable mutt of yours," huffed Dwalin as Sunflower sadly turned her attention away from him and to Lostoriel. He mounted his pony, still glaring down at the panting wolf below.
"She is not a mutt and you'd do good to remember that. All she wants," Lostoriel knelt down and scratched the wolf behind her ears, "Is some love!"
"Love, my foot." She heard him grumble as he rode off to Thorin. Through the chaos of the Dwarves attempting to help Bilbo onto his pony and Thorin's last minute checks to their packs, she heard Gandalf speak.
"Saruman the White says it's not possible. The enemy was destroyed and will never return."
Lostoriel had a natural aversion to anything that Saruman had to say, especially after his concerning and insensitive words in Imladris. Gandalf's loyalty to the highest of their Order was unwavering, but he was wise enough to know when to believe his gut and not the words of that sleazy old coot. The elf bristled as she took the reins to her horse from Bifur, she at least hoped Gandalf would listen to his intuition.
With her nose practically glued to the ground and her tail slapping both the chestnut stallion and Lostoriel's ankles, Sunflower pawed at the grass and threaded her way through the long legs of the horse as she studied the tall creature. Lostoriel stood back and watched the two animals in amusement. Biter puffed air into the wolf's face when her tail hit his eye, as if saying, come near me again and I'll show you where you can stick that irritating tail of yours.
Lostoriel caught herself smiling like an idiot and scoffed at herself for thinking such foolish thoughts. It really had seemed like the horse was speaking. Truthfully, she wouldn't have been shocked after seeing how Beorn easily communicated with all the animals he kept.
oOo
The Company paused and watched as Thorin bade Beorn farewell. They were all disappointed to be leaving the comfort of his home so soon. It had felt as if they could rest there and forget about the threat of the dragon for another year or so. But duty called and they would answer.
Sunflower rubbed against Lostoriel's leg, covering her pants in tufts of grey and white fur. She gazed up into the elf's eyes with such a look of sadness that Lostoriel had no choice but to bend down and engulf the wolf in a shower of love.
"I cannot take you with me." The elf coughed away the lump in her throat. Sunflower cocked her head to the side and whined, clearly disagreeing with her two-legged companion. "Please don't look at me like that, I wish that I could bring you with me, but you belong here mellon-nin."
She felt a hand gently clamp down on her shoulder and looked up and into Gandalf's apologetic eyes, "Come young elfling, it is time."
Lostoriel blinked away the tears that threatened to fall as she nodded to the wizard, who flashed her the kindest smile he could muster. She took comfort in the way it reached his eyes, feeling like she was a child again, being gently told that she couldn't keep a creature as a pet. Gandalf had always had a soft spot for her. Now as she left behind perhaps the only one who seemed to take her as she is, Lostoriel felt numb.
"Not every farewell is goodbye."
With that cryptic line the wizard was gone, already halfway to his horse when Beorn whistled three sharp notes and Sunflower bolted back to him, jumping and yipping around his long legs until he bent down and ruffled her thick coat.
As the Company moved out Lostoriel remained behind and watched the pair of friends with a guilty heart. She had grown attached to the wolf and there was no doubt about it. She knew that a journey into the dragon's lair was no place for a wolf, it wasn't a place for anyone really. Yet here she was with a hope beyond all hope that maybe, just maybe her four-legged companion to come with her. Lostoriel swallowed the hard lump in her throat, Sunflower was Beorn's charge, but she was his friend too and Lostoriel knew that it was time to let her go.
"It pains you to leave her behind." Beorn stated rather than asking, rising to his feet, and studying the disheartened WoodElf before him.
Lostoriel did not trust her voice and simply nodded, berating herself for becoming too sentimental over an animal that did not belong to her. But that wolf, Sunflower, was the only one she had met on this journey who did not see her as a walking nightmare. "It would pain any elf to leave behind such a creature."
The elf forced a smile onto her face and held out her hand which Beorn grasped. Lostoriel bit back a grimace, her hand felt like it was being constricted by a snake. She wasn't sure if Beorn realised what a strong grip he had, but through his strength she knew that he was an honourable man who, beneath all that toughness had a kind heart.
"Thank you for your hospitality and for providing for us so generously. I know that these Dwarves can be…Well a complete and utter headache to deal with."
He shrugged as he took his hand back, "Perhaps they are not so bad after all."
"No," Lostoriel looked over her shoulder to where the Company awaited her before the treeline and then back at Beorn who she swore had a smile on his face. Thorin and her weren't on conversational terms yet, but that did not mean that the rest of their companions were in her bad books. "No, they're not."
She clicked her tongue and Biter trotted towards her. She hopped into the saddle with ease, laid her bow over the pommel. Lostoriel flicked the grey hood of her cloak up and nodded solemnly to Beorn and set Biter off at a steady canter to catch up to her companions.
They had not been riding for long when a hair-raising roar echoed down from the hills they had just descended. The entire Company came to a halt. Lostoriel watched from the back of the group as Thorin held a finger to his lips and shook his head, signalling for them to stay silent in case they missed the second roar which would indicate that there were orcs nearby. Beorn had given them a twenty- minute head start and was now following them as their rear-guard.
Lostoriel breathed out a sigh of relief when no second call came, and they were on the move once again.
Thorin slowed his pony to a trot as he drew up along-side Fili and Kili who rode behind Gandalf at the head of the column. It had been some hours since he had last spoken to either of his nephews and judging from the way Kili now slouched miserably in his saddle and the irritated manner in which Fili kept tapping his hand against his thigh he could see both his nephews were , to the sorrow of the Company, bored.
"Ants in your trousers lads?" he asked in a tone so gleeful that it was almost painful. Mahal only knew what his boys were planning, that was if they were planning anything.
Kili jumped, startled by his uncle's sudden appearance. The young dwarf flushed pink and scratched the back of his head.
"No," he said weakly and knew that Thorin was not convinced. "We were just speaking about amad."
Fili turned his horse and trotted to Thorin's other side so that their uncle rode between them. He said nothing as yet, which set a worm of worry in Thorin's stomach. Fili was open to sharing how he felt, he had been an incredibly sensitive, loving boy and he and Thorin had a close bond. That bubbly child he had helped to raise was now gone, quickly being buried under the intense responsibility that came with being the crown prince. Fili wore it as a wall around his shoulders, not as a burden. Thorin knew this, Fili wore it with no complaint. Only now Thorin wished that he had not placed so much pressure on Fili when they set out on this quest. Should he die then Fili would take his place as King and Thorin had to ensure that his eldest nephew was ready for it.
"We miss her." continued Kili as he solemnly rubbed the stone in his palm.
"I miss her too, Kili. And I have no doubt that she misses you both," Thorin reached over to squeeze Kili and then Fili's shoulders, "we will see her again soon."
"How can you be sure of it?"
Both Thorin and Kili turned in their saddles, varying degrees of shock and despair on their faces. Thorin let his mask slip away, he could never lie to them and for once he knew that the truth was what they needed. Their uncle reigned in his horse and signalled for the rest of the company to follow Gandalf.
Once the long line of dwarves and a thoroughly red-faced and sneezing Bilbo had passed by, Thorin rode to face his nephews and spotted Lostoriel on the ridge behind them, her bow ready to kill anything that threatened him and the boys. Kili's polite grunt brought him back to the present.
"I cannot," he stated simply, hating how the gravity of his words held true. "But what I do know is that we will see this through. Every last one of this company, including the three of us," his solemn expression grew dark, "and should it come to it then I will fight to my last breath to make sure you both see your mother again and Aven. The sons of Durin do not so easily give up hope. We will make it to Erebor and we will live to see our people again."
"But what if we do not Uncle?" Fili persisted.
"I understand your fears Fili, for I share them too. What I do know is that if we do then our quest will not have been in vain," he paused, considering both his young, uncertain nephews, "Do not lose hope yet my sons, for so long as we draw breath there is hope."
Whatever more Thorin had to say was drowned out by the hasty thudding of hooves on the grass as Biter galloped towards them. Lostoriel's furrowed brows could be seen from where they stood atop the knoll and the fact that she had an arrow set on her bow told them that she bore ill news. Biter covered the short distance from her watchpoint to where they stood in a matter of minutes and soon the horse slowed to a trot near Fili.
"Come, we must not tarry," Lostoriel quickly glanced over her shoulder, raising her bow just in case a foul face presented itself over the ridge behind them, "Beorn has sent word that Bolg and his friends are on the move."
The warmth of the midday sun reached them as they stopped on a high hill overlooking the deep, green valley below. The Woodland Realm stretched before them. From this distance the trees were gnarled and grey for miles on end until it starkly clashed with the vivid tones of green and red that rolled on for as far as the eye could see.
The Company studied the forest disdainfully, seeing none of the grandeur that Lostoriel had described, but instead a forest drenched in shadow.
Lostoriel reined in her pony, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she squinted at a shimmering light that seemed to pulse at the jagged line where the dying trees met the living ones. A thin veil of grey, almost silver mist hung over the black forest, stretching from the south where the tops of a dilapidated fortress peaked from the trees. The mist clashed somewhere in the middle of the forest with a force that pushed back the mist with such intensity that it seemed to waver and break in several places.
"By my beard, what enchantment is this?" whispered Bofur, his voice carrying like a shout to the rest of the company.
Lostoriel gulped and gripped onto the reins until her knuckles turned white and the leather bit into her skin. Home. The word resonated in her mind, drowning out Gandalf's voice as he explained what had befallen the woods and what fought against it. The elf clutched the pendant of her necklace and sighed. There was only one elf in the GreenWood who could muster such power to fight against the darkness of Dol Guldur. The light haze that hung over the fringes of a forest that was barely imperceptible on the horizon was produced by the power of Lady Galadriel herself. But this was her Adar, still waging a steady fight against the evil that sought to gain a foothold in their home. It warmed her heart to know that he was still fighting, still breathing. And yet the very thought of stepping foot into that forest set a weight rooting her to the ground.
That night they camped under the watchful eyes of the stars, clouds raced to blanket the sky and soon the night drew cold. The Company were not deterred by the onset of the autumn breeze, instead they smoked their pipes alongside Bilbo and Gandalf, who created the most mesmerising shapes and creatures with a single puff of smoke. They were all in good spirits after their recuperative stay in Beorn's home, all except Thorin of course. The dwarf had slung his blankets across his shoulders and sat gazing into the fire with such intensity that Dwalin thought he could have set the wood ablaze.
Lostoriel did not fare any better. She did not join them in their cheerful singing but sat silently observing and listening, she wasn't in the mood for laughter or song. She wasn't even in the mood for Bofur's jokes that he cracked that set the dwarves roaring with laughter and scaring the poor birds from the trees. The ride to the forest had been easy enough, but now she was having second thoughts about her brave words about them through the woods.
Serves you right for your unbridled tongue, she thought miserably, poking the fire with a large stick. Lostoriel gazed across the fire at Thorin who sat between Fili and Kili, studying the map of Mirkwood that was sprawled out in front of him.
When they had the fire going and had pitched their small tents, Thorin, Gandalf, Balin, Fili and Kili and Lostoriel had gathered around the map to replot their path to the GreenWood for the next day. Around sunset Beorn had brought word that the orcs had caught onto their trail and would be upon them within the next three days, depending on which path they took the next day. Seeing that they were already travelling along the great east road it made no sense trying to find another path to take, they'd be safe anyway with Beorn guarding them from behind.
She wanted to go over to him and apologise for her harsh words in Beorn's garden, but he seemed relatively unbothered at the moment and it would do him good to bask in whatever peace he still felt. Judging what Gandalf had told them about the forest, this might be the last night of tranquillity any of them would have in the coming days. So instead she plodded to the nearest tree and hopped up into it, setting her bow across her lap and her quiver to a lower branch as she watched the night pass above her.
The GreenWood was not living up to its name, Lostoriel mused as she dismounted from Biter and scrutinised the grey, almost blue mass of tangled trees. Lostoriel thought her eyes had played a cruel trick on her mind when they had been further back from the forest and the trees had looked simply clumped together and grey in the dim morning light.
The thunder rolled over head and the rain began to steadily beat down upon them once again. The trees before them stood as a monotonous greyscale that stretched for as far as the eye could see in both directions. The trees were gnarled. Their trunks clumped and twisted together, thick, black vines hung from their dead boughs and the grey, frail branches grated against each other in the wind that whistled through the sick forest.
Lostoriel could feel the illness of her beloved home radiating from the trees, the heavy enchantment that had only just begun to spread when she had "left," now oozed from the dead trees , having soaked up their life and killed their joy from within. This was not her home. Anger boiled up within her, deep, hollow anger that she had not felt for a century brimmed at the surface, how dare whatever malice lives in their woods go unchecked. How dare the white council sit idly while this, this decay of a once mesmerizing woods occurred! Lostoriel had half the mind to ride South and tear down that forsaken fortress with her own hands, but not before she rode to Lothlorien and gave those Noldor a piece of her mind.
"This forest... Feels sick," she vaguely heard Bilbo speaking, "as if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around it?"
Lostoriel could not help but agree with Bilbo's observation. It was as if she stared into a shadow of a dream. Haunting, ashen, lifeless. She shifted uncomfortably in the saddle; she was not ready for this. It was dizzying to gaze upon the grey-washed trees, the amber and yellow leaves that seemed brown in the shadows of the forest. Her heart clenched and like the first thunder of the storm, released a wave of desolation beyond comprehension. Her beloved forest was dying.
"Not unless we go two hundred miles north and two hundred miles south..." Gandalf's voice seemed distant in her ears.
"Lostoriel." The wizard beside his horse, one hand on his hips and he stared at her, slightly exasperatedly. "Come with me please, my dear."
Lostoriel snapped out of her daydreaming, grabbed her bow and sword, and dismounted, handing Biter's reins to Nori, who led him away to be unsaddled. The elf strapped her sword to her belt and flicked her hood clear of her quiver, ready for any sign of an attack. One more step and she would be within borders that had long since forgotten her name.
Gandalf was standing admiring the huge tusks and antlers that formed the elven gate and marked the start of their long trek on the elven road. Lostoriel came to stand beside him and whistled softly as she took in the towering ivory, "It's been a long time Mithrandir. One more step and I'll be on my way…home."
It truly had been a long time since she stood before the great gates of the GreenWood. She recalled the grandeur of this entrance from her childhood. No ivy had crept up the massive carvings of the antlers, the path had not been cracked and broken, or reclaimed by the forest as it was now. Bird song had filled the air and the soft sounds of the forest creatures as they crept about the trees had echoed like a symphony. Now there was only the heavy silence, even from outside the woods it seemed as if she were listening to the world from beneath a blanket.
"And the woods will welcome you. Do not despair where there is none to be found. Don't forget what I've told you." Gandalf nodded at her to follow him, concern furrowing his brows. Lostoriel for what seemed like the hundredth time, hated it when the wizard spoke some semblance of truth.
She sucked in a shaky breath and stepped foot over the threshold and into the WoodLand Realm. A coldness washed over her as if the sun had been stolen by the night in a sudden gust of wind and then from the depths of her bones a warmth erupted. Out of nowhere, like the winter sun on her toes it swelled in waves, small at first but gradually increasing until she felt a familiar pull. One that had been cut off the moment she had awoken on earth. Hope still resonated in the dying forest. And a magic waged a taxing war against the shadow from the South. The princess held her chin a little higher.
The leaves crunched beneath Gandalf's feet as he picked his way along the path, "No matter what happens in this forest must ensure that you stay on the path. I fear that since you've been gone for so long that the enchantment will try to trick you too."
The pair lapsed into silence as they passed by a smooth, circular table of stone. She had long since forgotten its use, just as the forest had forgotten its existence. The ivy tickled Lostoriel's hand as she ran her fingers along the ancient marble, not recalling this entrance before the darkness had settled over it. Gandalf moved further along the stone pathway and halted before a tall, broad marble statue that was now entangled with grey vines and ashen creepers. The white marble was barely visible at its feet, and its hands bearing a bouquet of woodland flowers was all but faded.
Lostoriel came to a slow stop behind Gandalf, her hands shaking, "Naneth." she whispered, the silence of the forest and the solemnity of her mother's statue demanded it.
Gandalf turned sad eyes to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "She rests."
"Aye." answered Lostoriel despondently, without moving her eyes from the uncanny realism of the statue. Gandalf smiled to himself at her use of the dwarven phrase and continued to study the marble, there was something off about it.
Lostoriel sensed it too and stepped forward to brush away the nest of vines that covered the face. She inhaled sharply as a crude depiction of a crimson eye desecrated her father's memorial to her mother. Lostoriel tightened her grip on her bow as Gandalf moved in to take a closer look.
"Beware the Necromancer," Lady Galadriel's voice echoed in both their minds and the pair locked eyes, the unspoken fear freezing them both, "He is not what he seems."
Just as she said the words Gandalf and Lostoriel jumped as the amber, burning eye from her dreams flashed in their minds.
"Mithrandir." Said Lostoriel in a grave voice, "That was no figment of our imaginations was it?"
But Gandalf did not answer. Instead he turned and slowly shook his head as if he himself could not believe what he and her had just witnessed. The grey wizard he had gathered his robes about him and bolted towards the edge of the treeline. He looked back at her, his entire face aged like Lostoriel had never seen before, "I am afraid you'll be leading the Dwarves through Mirkwood on your own Lostoriel."
The Elf frowned and hurried to catch up with him, "Gandalf! Wait! Where are you going?"
Mithrandir did not turn back, and the pair burst back into the group, seeing the Dwarves already unsaddling their ponies he shouted, "Not my horse! I'll need him!"
"... Leaving us, are you?" Lostoriel caught the tail end of Bilbo's question as Gandalf tightened the girth straps around his horse and repacked what provisions he would take with him.
"I would not do this unless I had to." He apologised to a crestfallen Bilbo as Lostoriel ran up behind them. She was almost upon them when someone grabbed her elbow. She looked down and met the question in Thorin's eyes. Lostoriel had no clue what the wizard was planning and simply shook her head and shrugged. She didn't want to travel without Gandalf, not after they had just gotten him back. Thorin gently let her go and turned to Dwalin who looked just as stunned as the rest of them.
Lostoriel silently strode up behind Bilbo, a thousand questions swarming in her mind.
"I was going to tell you…" Began Bilbo with a nervous gulp and caused Lostoriel to freeze, her curiosity piqued. "I... Found something in the Goblin tunnels."
Gandalf leaned forward, his eyes flitting from Lostoriel to Bilbo in suspicion,"Found what?"
His question came slowly, as if he were peeling back the many layers that enclosed Bilbo Baggins. Lostoriel and Gandalf both noticed the fitful manner with which Bilbo fiddled with the contents of his pocket. And Lostoriel knew then that it was the ring that he had picked up in Gollum's cave. She saw it again in her mind, the flash of gold in the shadows of Beorn's barn, the piercing eye that seemed to sear into her memory in the forest and the cloud that seemed to hang around Bilbo whenever he
"What did you find?"
The tension that gripped the hobbit was palpable and Lostoriel knew then that something was off about that mysterious ring of his. Dwarves guarded their treasures with the utmost secrecy, even men and elves did so, but to keep this from Gandalf was a feat unheard of. Lostoriel stepped back not understanding why her sweet and endearing friend was lying to Gandalf.
Bilbo coughed awkwardly and stole his hand away from his pocket, "My courage."
Oh please, Lostoriel couldn't help the snort that escaped her, nor the baleful gaze that Gandalf turned upon her.
"Good." Said the wizard as he studied Bilbo with a frown, as if not quite recognising him as the hobbit he once knew. Lostoriel watched as he nodded with that life affirming nod she had come to associate with Mithrandir. Life affirming or extremely, frustratingly vague, whatever it was Lostoriel wished he would stop being so cryptic and spontaneous, "Well, that's good. You'll need it."
Gandalf turned and gestured for her to follow. Lostoriel paced beside him, having to speed up her walk to keep up with his brisk stride. She did not appreciate the mounting concern that weighed his face down, nor the grim air of acceptance that floated about him, "Mithrandir, care to tell me where you're going?" she asked. But he did not answer.
Instead he came to an abrupt halt before Thorin and scrutinised them both, "I suggest that you remain true to our plan for getting through the Wood. I'll be waiting for you at the overlook before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe." Then with a tone that broke no argument and a stare that starkly reminded Lostoriel of being warned by her father, "Do not enter that mountain without me!"
"This is not the Greenwood of old." He continued, looking over the entire Company this time as he warned them, "The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray, all of you, Woodelf or not."
Gandalf strode to his horse and then turned back, remembering something equally as grave, "There is a river that runs from the south and through this part of the woods with waters as black and thick as the night itself. It has been tainted with the evil from the Fortress. The presence of the water will tempt you; it will attempt to draw you in. And it is of the utmost importance that you do not have even the slightest thought of drinking from it! For if you do you will be placed under an enchantment so heavy that even I could not break it in a hurry."
Well, isn't that just lovely, Lostoriel grimaced as she watched Gandalf mount his horse and caught the whispers of fear and suspicion that arose from the dwarves and Bilbo. This Enchanted Stream was news to her too. First the trees and now the water. It unsettled her, how the life of the forest was being sucked away by the growing shadow, more so it ate away at her soul. No elf would have allowed this to happen if it were within their control. For a WoodElf such as herself it was a burden too heavy to bear alone, but Lostoriel knew that she must. No matter how much she wished to join the wizard on his side adventure.
"You must stay on the path; do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again." The wizard warned them gravely as he wheeled his horse around and took off at a canter to the North. Lostoriel wanted to call out after him, to go with him. But it was too late for Gandalf was cantering away with a distinct air of grim business about him.
"No matter what may come, stay on the path!" He called over his shoulder and soon became a grey speck against the yellow-green heather and gorse. The light drizzle gave way to a steady shower as they unsaddled their horses and released them back to Beorn, who watched them as a huge bear from a high hilltop.
"Lead us astray?" asked Bilbo in the general direction of Dwalin and Lostoriel. The hobbit looked as though he had a vague feeling of what a hunted rabbit felt like. "What does that mean?"
"What it means Master Baggins, is that there is danger afoot that we cannot escape." The sullen tone of acceptance in Lostoriel's voice did nothing to reassure him.
The Company faced the forest with palpable trepidation, each one imagining the horrors lay waiting for them. Thorin was the first of them to break the silence, he unslung his bow from his shoulder and studied each of his companions with steady determination in his eyes. "Come on. We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's Day. Lostoriel will lead the way from here until we reach the Eastern borders. This is our one chance to find the hidden door."
The dwarf king gestured for her to lead the way. Lostoriel sucked in a shaky breath and rolled her shoulders back, as she strolled to the front of the group. "Right gentlemen. Gandalf told us already and I'll say it again: this is not the forest of old, I don't know what we'll find in there, but I do know that we'll make it out of there alive. Remember, we must stay on the Elven Road at all costs. Let's go."
Lostoriel plunged into the treeline, taking one last glance at her mother's defiled statue, loosened her sword in its scabbard and swore that she would hunt down the orc responsible for marking it as such.
Behind her the dwarves murmured their assent and they parroted what Thorin and her had said and left Lostoriel wondering, not for the first time if they truly were so dim witted after all.
Their murmuring died down to stolen whispers as the greyness of the forest hovered all around them. The sunlight floated down in dribs and drabs through the thick canopy above and the rain began to steadily soak their clothing. Lostoriel hated every second of it. Her woollen coat began to grow heavy as the rain dripped off the leaves and made their way into her boots. Already she felt the thick, stagnant air of the forest penetrating her mind, tempting her to peak behind that gnarled tree that lay just off the path or to follow the sound of a nearby stream. The elf shook her head to clear away the murkiness that filled her mind and found that she could breathe a little easier when the trees spaced out on either side of the stone road and she could see for miles into the grim forest.
She was not the only one to feel such extreme discomfort as they ploughed down the winding path. The dwarves were on edge. Dwarves were naturally more accustomed to the coldness of stone and the dim world of the underground. Here in the thick, closely packed trees and travelling along a path that twisted and turned in random directions they felt claustrophobic, as if the very earth were spinning around them. Kili walked a little closer behind his brother, who intended to keep up with the elf who at least seemed to know where they were going.
Lostoriel had no clue where she was leading them. She knew that eventually the path leads out of the forest close to the Anduin river, however she only knew that because of the map she had studied the night before. She had a vague hope that they would run into a kind Elf who would show them the way. But considering the hot tempers of the dwarves she travelled with, perhaps it would be best if they travelled through undetected.
As they rounded a sharp twist in the path Lostoriel paused and brushed aside fallen leaves from the path. "The path goes this way."
The path had led them across fallen trees and vast chasms that lead to the black waters of one of the forest rivers. The trees seemed to cave in on one another and hide the path between their thick trunks.
"Can't say this is the most cheerful walk I've taken." Bofur piped up from the centre of the loose line they tramped in. A few amongst them chuckled, glad that someone decided to break the heavy silence that the forest demanded.
"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard than this!" Gloin grumbled, discontent with the way they were going. "How many days till we reach the other side? I'm not sure how much longer I can handle these trees staring at me."
Lostoriel rolled her eyes again, growing irritated with their constant complaining. She was fond of these dwarves, Gloin especially, but sometimes, just sometimes Lostoriel wished she could push them into a conveniently placed tree. They were all lucky that she was stuck at the head of the column and had Thorin and Bilbo to get through before she could reach them.
oOo
Gandalf called Lostoriel over to him as he tightened the girth straps on his horse. The wizard stooped low and spoke in hushed tones with the elf, not needing anyone else to hear.
Lostoriel didn't like the way his brows knitted together, it reminded her of a bristling grey caterpillar that protected a sea of worry. "Keep an eye on them, will you?"
He nodded discreetly in the general direction of the dwarves, but Lostoriel knee him well enough to know that he meant someone else.
"Oh goodness no! Me, married! I'm perfectly happy as a single Hobbit, Bofur." said Bilbo with such distaste that one would've sworn he'd tasted a mouthful of bitter liquorice.
"Come on now lad. You can't be that opposed to it, any lass would be lucky to have you. Don't you agree Bifur?" Bofur cajoled him on, flashing both his eyebrows suggestively between his older brother and the blushing hobbit.
The dwarves mumble their assent, many of them laughed at the picture of their pedantic, worry-wort burglar who they had met all those months ago in BagEnd.
The sunlight had long since been lost between the creaking, lifeless boughs of Mirkwood. There was no bird song, no woodland creatures sneaking about under the moonlight. Only the crackling of the fire and the hushed rushing of the river filled the silence of the forest accompanied by a single owl hooting at irregular intervals.
The entire company was on edge and there was no doubt about it. The grating of wood against wood set their teeth grinding. The once tall, proud trees that sang were now mere skeletons. Creaking, thin and grey. As if all their life had been sucked out from their roots and their colour leached by the grey cloud that seemed to sit upon the woods.
And yet, Lostoriel smirked, it did not diminish their appetite for jester and laughter. She stoked the fire in the centre of their camp and leant back against a fallen log, enjoying the playful banter that the dwarves prided themselves in.
"Not to mention what a fine house you have Master Burglar," Gloin pointed his pipe at the hobbit, "any hobbit lass would consider herself go have such impeccably sharp knives."
Lostoriel felt lost as they burst into laughter ,clearly it was an inside joke because she had no clue as to why any girl would ever care about whether the knives were blunt or not and what that had to do with Bilbo. Poor Bilbo beside her was a hilarious shade of red up to his ears and looked pointedly at Lostoriel for help. The elf merely shrugged, having no witty remark to defend her friend with.
She had not been in the mood for their light-heartedness. Being in the forest sent her wandering down the paths of her memory to days when her heart was light and the forest fresh and green. The Dwarves and Bilbo were a day closer to Erebor, but Lostoriel was a day closer to a life she had no place in. She fiddled with the pendant on her necklace, wondering if her father had sensed her in the forest yet or if they would encounter her brother or Renieth or Faelon on one of their patrols. Lostoriel wanted to see them with every fibre of her being. But she was afraid. Time changes everyone, even the Elves. Though a hundred years was a mere day in their lives, it changed the WoodLand elves who lived in the present moment, who fought day after day to stay alive. She was afraid that they would no longer know each other.
"Say Lostoriel," Began Bofur, pulling her out from her musings with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "you're a princess if I'm not mistaken."
Nori shook his head vigorously and held a finger in the air before Lostoriel could answer. "No no no, I 've been thinking about this long and hard." He began with a smug tone that told them that he held some safely guarded secret.
Whatever it was, it could not be good since Nori was notorious for not being able to keep his mouth shut about certain issues. Especially when it came to delving into Lostoriel's private life which she guarded like a dwarf his gold.
"And here we are with neither ink nor parchment to record this momentous occasion!" remarked Fili as the company burst into laughter.
He pointed Fili, "Oh shut up!" And then pointed at Lostoriel, "You've been gone a hundred years 'haven't you?"
The elf sighed internally, knowing precisely where this conversation was going and preparing herself for the ridicule that would undeniably follow. She answered with a weary sigh, "I have."
"So, don't that mean that you've got no claim to the throne?"
Lostoriel felt her entire body go red as their expectant gazes burned into her.
"Lads, our princess is actually no longer a princess at all. You see, we've been my lady-ing and bowing and all that for months now when in fact, Lostoriel is no more a commoner than the rest of us."
The silence was palpable and Lostoriel thought that she could just die then and there. Had it not been Nori speaking perhaps she would have been at least a little upset with the crassness with which he put it.
Fili and Kili grinned smugly at each other as Lostoriel's face soured.
"So...Technically," began Fili , frowning as if asking a question. He wagged a finger between Kili and himself, not noticing the smirk that formed on Thorin's face. "We outrank you."
"Goodness Fi, I believe we do!" Kili's victorious smile stretched from ear to ear. Lostoriel had the sudden urge to find out what it would be like to jump off a cliff.
"I believe you can call us my lords, or your highness or my dashing princes from now on." Kili winked at her, basking himself in the glory of this new information.
"Also, this means that you can't tell us what to do."
Before they could carry on Thorin rose from between his nephews to make his way to check on Dwalin and Bofur who were currently keeping the watch. And with the intention of saving Lostoriel anymore teasing. He understood why she looked so crestfallen. It was no easy thing to return to a home that one had lost. Nor was it easy to reclaim one's title. He knew this better than anyone and despite their argument he was determined to earn her forgiveness for she was his friend and he didn't want to lose her again. "Alright lads, I think that is quite enough for one night. Come we should get some rest; tomorrow is another long day."
Lostoriel turned a withering glare at Nori, "Thank you for that Nori." She looked as if she could have ripped his head off his shoulders, but instead of decapitating the snarky dwarf she rose from the log and stretched. "I believe this is where I leave you if I am to maintain what dignity I still have."
Unfortunately, Lostoriel had little of it left and decided that she would relieve Bofur of his watch duties. She followed Thorin to where the pair of dwarves stood
Lostoriel was still mad at him. She had managed to keep her anger at bay for the better part of two days, mainly to keep the peace in the Company. But now walking on the edge of the firelight she could feel her irritation with Thorin flare up and the air between them grow thick.
"I hope you do not take offence to Fili and Kili's jesting. They are young and foolish, I know, but they mean no harm." He started off awkwardly and Lostoriel knew it, the strain in his voice gave him away. He was trying to make amends, but all he served in doing was making her angrier.
Lostoriel raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to the night ahead of them. Though the pair of dwarves stood only a little way from the reaches of the firelight, Lostoriel felt the piercing gaze of a thousand silver eyes watching her from the shadows. They seemed to shift as she moved. Watching her back. Gauging where the weak points of the Company rested. Waiting to strike.
An icy spider of a shiver crawled up her back and Lostoriel jumped when Thorin coughed, his bulky form and sword flashing in the firelight reminded her of some mad man in the woods. Through the dark she saw the remorse in his eyes and wondered if she were being irrational.
"Lostoriel, there is a chance for you to gain back your title-"
He definitely had an interesting way of starting off an apology, she had to give him that. But the elf would hear nothing, not now in the middle of the woods. "Listen Thorin, I appreciate the sentiment. But don't pretend like we can start off where we picked off. The times for making amends is not now! " She snapped and stormed off in the direction of Bifur, bristling in indignation the entire time.
Bifur plodded gratefully back to the camp as she took his place with an arrow resting lightly against her bowstring in case any of the watchers of the night decided to attack. And as she stood in the silence Lostoriel felt the forest come to life around her. To her left she could hear the glacial flow of the Enchanted River, to her right a twig snapped under the hooves of a woodland deer- she could see its amber eyes glowing in the dark- and from somewhere above a lone owl hooted to an irregular tempo that flowed against the disconcerting symphony of the dying forest.
Perhaps it was the icy wind that caused the leafless branches to creak against one another, or the cool air that seemed to hang like drapery around her head, but Lostoriel knew that the forest would not treat them as it once would. There was something amiss in these woods. She placed her hand against a nearby trunk, closed her eyes and sang an ancient song she had never forgotten, hoping to awaken the tree.
For a moment she felt something flicker beneath her palm. A warmth, like the golden sunlight shining through the heaviest of clouds. And then like the flip of a light switch it was gone and Lostoriel turned away to face the darkness of the forest with the cold realisation that they needed to travel North to Elven lands as fast and as quickly as possible.
Helllo all you wonderful human beings!
I hope your week has been great so far and that everyone's staying safe...
YEh... so it turns out that i'm terrible with keeping track of the time these days...
A massive thank you to Lancelot 2.0 who took time to edit this chapter!
But this chapter is finally up! Thank you to everyone who's favourited or followed! Please feel free to leave a review! I really do enjoy hearing what you all think of the story so far, or if you have any writing tips in general...
ro781727: Thank you for your review! I thought it'd be an interesting take on Thranduil, because not much is written about his family. If you want to read more i've written a one-shot with his brother ( it's called Mother's...) But i do want to write more on them at some point, though i think he'll feature in some way during this story as well... Wow! That's reallly cool, a GOT / Hobbit fic! How is it so far? Honestly... I hoped that they would make up before they entered MirkWood too, but they're both infuriatingly stubborn...
Until next time, stay safe everyone!