Kizea's group held together, walking silently in the wood. Their stealth
was such that no animal heard their approach. It was often said that the
Fendowan were all descended of the elves, though this was not the case. All
of them came to the stone from all corners of Middle-Earth. All came for
their own reasons. Some came for greed and lust of power. Some came with
the intent to use the stone to re-instate Middle-Earth to its former glory
and rid the world of all evils. Still others came for the simple reason of
grief and love.
And although this was once Valnin's own reason, he could not have imagined
a higher honor than to be placed in the stone's service. And once he stood
before the stone's glory, he became unconcerned of his sister's welfare.
But now, as the group trotted through the brush and mud of a mountain stream, his thoughts turned back to those times. He reminisced of his mother and stepfather. When Valnin was younger, he had no associations with his sister. She had grown up with a life of privilege, and he in a life of hardship. After Kizea's mother died of a fever, Kizea's powerful father did not remarry, but took to his bed the most beautiful women in the realm. Such was Valnin's mother. She raised her son in anonymity, but Valnin eventually grew to know that he had a sibling. Then the darker days came. While out on a fishing trip, the orc general Rakal swept through the Anduin valley and laid waste to all the lands in his path. The only home and family Valnin had ever known was destroyed. The few that remained set out to find Rakal and exact retribution for his crimes. Unbeknownst to Valnin, his sister had also survived the attacks. They found themselves together in a meager army, set out for the elf havens of Isodor and Tamlot, to confront and stop the orc army from taking the elf havens to slavery or death. There, in that bloody battle was Kizea killed, and Valnin set out on his new quest, to find the fabled gem. He had not thought of the past in years, but now his thoughts were changing. Valnin took notice of his companions as they walked and wondered if perhaps they were thinking similar thoughts. Hastening his pace, Valnin sidled up to Kizea, and spoke softly to her, almost in a whisper.
"One thing bothers me," he began quietly.
However, Kizea, still intent on her mission, paid little heed to him. She kept up her pace, and Valnin was forced to trot to keep up with her. When she refused a reply a second time, he slunk back into line and said no more. But suddenly from behind, a soft voice spoke up. It was Aldunen.
"What troubles you, Valnin?" she asked.
Valnin's behavior had been undeniably remorseful since the discovery earlier. Aldunen thought perhaps Valnin felt guilty for having possibly seen the thief and not stopped them. She meant to comfort him in some small way. She meant to remind him that a Fendowan's business was never questioned. It was simply not done, and he would've been within his rights to do nothing. He turned his head and glanced backwards at the tall, stately girl. She quickened her pace until she walked beside him.
"Do not be distressed by Melune's sharp tongue. And I would not see you grieve over not having stopped a Fendowan imposter. How sadder would you now be having delayed the urgent business of one of our own? Especially in light of what has happened."
"That is not what troubles me," he said in a low voice.
"What is it?" she asked, "Surely you do not have an idea that Master Melune could be correct, that we've a traitor among us. It is impossible."
"More is the pity!" he said softly, "Master Melune and I are in agreement on this one point. A Fendowan it was! It must have been! Alas!"
At this, Kizea stopped and abruptly turned around, glaring at him. The others stopped, and were so frightened by her demeanor, that they all fell to their knees at once. All save for Valnin.
"You have something to say, Valnin? Out with it! Or hold thy wretched tongue! For I will not suffer to hear this treasonous speech from a Fendowan of the highest order! I will not hear the words you are whispering! How dare you accuse one of your own order of such an evil deed?"
Bowing his head low before the seething Kizea, he swallowed hard before speaking.
"I have but one thing that troubles me," he whispered. His voice cracked. Before Kizea's angry confrontation, his self-confidence had all but dissolved.
"What then? Speak it or be silent!"
"Great and wise Kizea, if a stranger should negotiate the thousand stair, a grand feat to be sure, why would the Stone of Anor not press that honored person to its service? It has all others before them."
Kizea's gaze seemed to ease a bit. For a moment she had no reply to him.
"I do not know why," she said at last, "I do not question the stone!"
"I know why," Valnin replied gazing at her, "Because the thief is already in the stone's service. That is why."
Kizea stared blankly at her brother, and then at the others. She walked over to Aldunen, who still knelt, fearing her leader's anger. Kizea gently pulled on Aldunen's arm and coaxed him to stand. The others followed suit. And when all were on their feet once again, Kizea stood before her brother, and spoke with a new softness in her voice.
"When we find the Stone of Anor, Valnin, we shall find our thief. For I do not believe that they could have gotten far. And then you shall see that you are mistaken, my brother. All will be well. The light of Anor will be recovered, and the thief who poses as a Fendowan will be put to an appropriate end, I will see to it myself. All will be well again. I am sure of it."
Valnin nodded slowly, but Kizea could still see the doubt that hung in his eyes. Looking about the group, she spoke up again.
"We are wasting precious time. Let us proceed to the cave and mark the trail. We will pursue our quarry from there. Let us all be mindful that we are come together for a single purpose, and that is to retrieve the Secret Fire (the Stone of Anor) to its rightful place. Let us away."
With that, Kizea spun on her heel and continued on through the forest. Upon reaching the cave entrance, they set to a new direction to the south, and towards the Pass of Balsor. Although Kizea remained confident that the sacred gem would be recovered that same day, it was not to be so. The group trudged through the wood all through the night, and the following day. At times the trail seemed to break, or disappear altogether. A broken stick, a smudged bit of dirt, or a faint footprint however, always showed the way.
One day turned to another, until almost a week had passed them by, and still they followed the trail southwards, until they were nigh on one of the most southerly passes across the Misty Mountains, the Pass of Balsor. They slept and ate little, and the entire company was growing weary. With no supplies and no warmth, negotiating the treacherous passageway would be difficult, but Kizea had no intentions of returning and outfitting themselves. They rested in the green foothills for one night. Wood was plentiful, and many fish were plucked from the mountain streams. That night, the Fendowans feasted on a supper of berries and fish, and prepared to make the crossing on the following day, when the warmth of the sun would be their ally. Their spirits were high.
The pass, which cut a ragged road over the mountains, lay somewhere between the High Pass and the Redhorn Pass, which for most travelers, was situated too uncomfortably close to the infamous Dwarven realm of Moria. When Irwindal and Tuluth were bustling kingdoms on the Anduin, the Pass of Balsor was commonly used by the race of men. Although that particular trail was not used without some care, for it dumped out on the opposite side of the mountains very close to the elven city of Isodor, and it was not a wise man that trespassed upon elven ground. But now, following the ruin of the once great cities, few beings traveled over the nearly forgotten road. Indeed, in time, the Pass of Balsor would disappear altogether from traveler's maps. Each of Kizea's warriors carried with them an armload of wood, to ensure a warming fire in the cold darkness. The stars were so numerous in the evenings that several of the Fendowan felt their very path was being lighted before them in the dead of the night, and none wished to take rest. They, all of them, took the evening's brightness as a sign that their quest was drawing to an end, and their ordeal was nearly over.
They walked in silence for days, only stopping for a few brief hours each night to sleep. They huddled together to keep warm, but rest was only a pleasant memory for them. Until the stone was found, they could neither sleep nor eat well, and only sheer exhaustion prompted a few of the group to sleep soundly. Kizea, however, could only take short catnaps. She would awake in the darkness and jump to her feet and prod the others to continue the journey. It was her only goal, the only thought in her mind.
Luckily, mid-summer was coming to its zenith. There was no snow, and very little wind in the southern parts of the mountains at that time of year, although it did remain cold when the sun tucked itself away in the western sky. Now their trail was laid out before them like a beacon over a vast ocean of rock and dirt. Being well skilled in tracking quarry, the footprints that brazenly appeared in the dirt were not difficult to follow.
When they had finally traversed the treacherous Bandal ridge, Kizea found something that had surprised her, even shocked her. Kizea's group had now emerged on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains, having negotiated the crossing. Now they began to see green trees shooting up here and there, growing thicker in the low lands. And the tributaries that would eventually come to form the river Gladden in the Anduin valley now became more frequent. But as Kizea's keen eyes followed a deep footprint in the mud, she suddenly stopped short.
"What is it?" asked Valnin as he walked up to her. Kizea pointed beyond the brushes to 5 other sets of footprints.
"Others have passed this way recently," she whispered, "It seems we are not the only ones hunting our quarry today."
Ishil came up behind them to look as well. Kizea began to scan the landscape in every direction.
"Master Melune perhaps?" Ishil asked quietly. Kizea shook her head.
"No," Kizea replied, "Melune should be pursuing any trails to the North or West. And see here, there are 5 distinct sets of footprints. We must be cautious now."
Towards a distant cliff, the group suddenly became aware of laughter of sorts, mingled with cries and muffled voices. Kizea immediately dropped to the ground, her arm extended outward and in back of her. The rest of the group halted, frozen in their respective places. Kizea turned her head and motioned to Valnin to follow her, and the others to stay where they were. The two then moved quietly towards the cliff.
As they approached the clearing, they crept along on their hands and knees until they reached the top of a cliff. Beyond it, a tremendous crashing of water resounded throughout the foothills as the falls fell over the precipice. Kizea peeked through some thick brush and gazed worriedly at the source of the commotion. What she saw perplexed her. It was, in fact, Melune and the remainder of the order. There were also two large orc soldiers. This was most strange to Kizea, for she was unaware of any Fendowan befriending any outsiders. Seeing nearly half of the Fendowan in the company of orcs astonished her. Another woman, whom Kizea did not recognize, stood before Melune, and was being held by one of the orcs. She was dressed as a Fendowan, but wore neither mask nor blade. A leather purse hung from her belt. She was beseeching Melune to spare her. Pulling her own golden dagger from its sheath, Melune cut the purse from the girl's waist and held it for a brief moment in front of her. Kizea knew that it must be the Stone of Anor, found at last. Kizea was almost overwhelmed with happiness, but still something held her back. The presence of the orcs troubled her, and she did not know why.
As Kizea watched the scene unfold, Valnin crept up behind her. In seeing Melune and the others, he perceived what Kizea did; that the thief and the Stone of Anor were found at last. Joyously Valnin leapt to his feet and broke through the Brush, running happily towards the group. Melune jerked her head in the boy's direction.
"Valnin!" Kizea cried out standing up, "Hold!"
One of the orcs whirled around, and instantly set out towards Valnin. The other orc, who had been holding the imposter captive, took the captive girl's head between its massive hands and jerked his arms to the left. A sudden crack, like a breaking tree branch was heard, and the girl fell dead.
By now, Kizea was through the bushes and sprinting up to the group. When the orc came close, Valnin drew both of his daggers. The creature however was huge; three times Valnin's size. When they clashed the beast simply picked up the boy in one swift motion, and threw Valnin to the side. Valnin landed and staggered backwards, directly into the arms of the second orc, which grabbed him from behind. Valnin struggled with the creature for a brief instant before it lifted Valnin clean over its head.
"Melune! Melune!" cried Kizea as she ran, "Stop him! Stop him!"
But the Fendowan high priestess merely stood gazing at the creature, and did nothing. The orc looked back at Kizea. Then with an evil laugh, he heaved Valnin over the edge of the cliff his screams became fainter and then disappeared altogether. Drawing her blades as she ran, Kizea screamed in anguish. The orc bent forward in a defensive posture, preparing to deliver the same fate to Kizea.
Melune briefly lowered the leather purse in her hand, suddenly interested in Kizea's performance. She had never actually seen Kizea fight to the death. Many days would Melune silently watch the others as they trained. But only Kizea, bent on training in secrecy, moved about the Ryalan woods and let no audience near her. Melune was always intensely curious as to the level of Kizea's skill, and whether or not it exceeded her own. Whenever Kizea returned from training in the cool afternoons, Melune would often venture out to different areas of the woods until she thought she had spied her counterpart's training site. She would examine the same dead tree trunk, used as Kizea's target. Then Melune endeavored to examine the lush forest floor to find where Kizea had stood, for hitting a target from a short distance would be no great feat.
But Melune could find no footprint or broken blade of grass, and although Kizea trained daily for hours, there ever remained but one solitary knife wound in her target. Melune remained confused by these meager signs, until one day she hid secretly nearby to discover the truth. The Fendowan master had come to the conclusion that Kizea simply did not train in that area of the woods any longer, but she was mistaken. She waited until the height of the morning had passed, and then to her astonishment, Kizea came, leaping from tree to tree. Hanging upside down by her feet or dangling from one arm, Kizea heaved her weapons at the miniscule target below from all angles, each time striking the exact same spot. She never missed. She would then pounce onto the tree trunk from somewhere above, retrieve her weapons, and begin the process over.
Now, the entertainment of the impending battle between Kizea and the huge orc was too enticing to ignore. She looked on with morbid curiosity. Melune was certain, as was the orc, that Kizea would jump at the beast and attempt to bury her two golden daggers into its chest. But Kizea could plainly see that the creature wished to pitch her off the cliff as it did her brother. So rather than jump on the orc, she jumped at him. Garnering as much speed as possible, she leapt into the air, tightening her legs. She aimed the impact of her attack at the orc's left shin. When the outside rim of her heel made contact, a sudden crack could be distinctly heard. The monster cried out in pain and dropped to its knees. As though she had bounced off a wall of stone, Kizea twirled around and fell onto the ground. The orc had almost fallen on top of her. The beast instantly reached out and grabbed her by the hair, pinning down her left hand. It greedily eyed the golden, jeweled dagger in Kizea's grasp, and the creature thought to claim it for its own. After all, there would be no greater trophy than a Fendowan's dagger and a Fendowan without her weapons was a much easier prey to overcome. But instead of wrenching its prize away, the orc's greasy fingers slipped and yanked back on Kizea's fingers instead. Two more cracks could be heard, coupled with a sudden, muffled cry. And in an instant, two of Kizea's fingers were dislocated.
Melune smiled beneath her mask as she watched, and she wondered how long Kizea would defend herself being thus injured. But Kizea was not one to easily give up. Taking advantage of the beast's loosened grip, Kizea pulled her arm free and stabbed at the orc's neck. Blackened gooey, blood dripped from the creature. The orc looked down at Kizea, at the intense fury in her eyes. Without another sound, it fell over, lifeless, her razor-sharp dagger shoved completely through its neck. The smile slowly left Melune's face as Kizea slowly rose to her feet. Straddling the dead creature and breathing heavily, Kizea glared at Melune. Kizea cried out and heaved her remaining dagger at Melune. But the Fendowan master merely blocked it with her arm, and it fell harmlessly to the ground.
From the brush now came Kizea's other companions. They had approached the area in time to see Kizea kill one of the orcs. Now they burst through the bushes, crying out, their daggers drawn. The second orc, having retrieved its bow, pulled back on the string until it nearly broke under the strain. The orc shot dead the first Fendowan that jumped into the clearing. Those who had accompanied Melune, Sasgal and Tragora, drew their own weapons and ran towards the others.
Melune took three steps backwards, but her gaze never strayed from Kizea.
"I've no time for you, Kizea," Melune said menacingly, "I've more important matters to attend to."
"What are you doing?" Kizea cried out, "Order them to stop!"
Melune chuckled and drew up the purse. Tipping it over, an overwhelming bright light pierced the misty waterfall, as the Stone of Anor fell into Melune's open hand. Ishil lowered her guard, and stared at the mystical gem in Melune's hand. Running up to her, Tragora seized the opportunity and struck Ishil in her temple with the butt end of her dagger. The unsuspecting girl fell over instantly, next to Aldunen, unconscious. Aldunen, who was now similarly wounded by Sasgal, found it difficult to fight in the stone's presence. She was mesmerized and could not fight back, but could only gaze at the stone's intense light as she lay helpless on the ground.
"The Stone of Anor!" whispered Kizea, her eyes widening.
"Yes!" Melune laughed as she held the shining gem triumphantly above her head, "And now it shall remain MY servant for all time."
"Traitor!" Kizea cried angrily as she stepped forward, "I'll kill you!"
But Melune only laughed and motioned to her orc underling. The creature began walking ominously towards Kizea. Clenching her left fist, Kizea struck the hideous creature in the face with what was left of her strength. It turned for a moment, wincing at the blow, and slowly drew back its head. A hideous smile came to its mouth, exposing its many glistening teeth. Then it grabbed Kizea violently by the neck, and began forcing Kizea backwards until she stood upon the very brink of the falls. Kizea wildly kicked at the huge creature, but had little leverage against the enormous beast. In the background, Melune continued to gloat triumphantly.
"Have you learned nothing these long years?" Melune laughed, "No Fendowan may spill the blood of another Fendowan, the stone will prevent you! That is why I need these creatures! I would have taken much pleasure in a duel to the finish with you, my dearest friend, but he will dispatch you for me just as easily!"
Kizea perceived in those final few moments that Valnin was at least, in part, correct; the traitor was from within their own ranks, and the traitor was Melune. With her company dispatched, and on the brink of oblivion herself, there seemed little hope now for her survival. She did not yet comprehend what purpose Melune had planned for the Stone of Anor, but Melune had shattered the entire Fendowan order to achieve it. Kizea's heart, in her final miserable moments, filled with intense hatred for her trusted former friend. She prepared herself for the inevitable drop from the cliff, thinking that with luck on her side she might be able to grab onto a rocky ledge. But the moment did not come. Just as the orc held Kizea at the brink of the cliff, everyone's attentions turned upward to the sky.
As many will tell you, in the struggle of good and evil there can be such rare and haphazard occurrences as to tip the scales one way or the other, creating hope where there was none, even if only for a short time. Such a moment was this.
On this mid-summer's day, the mighty eagle, Gwaihir the Windlord, friend to elves and wizards alike, Lord of the skies, by chance was soaring over the foothills of Balsor. Indeed, this ground was not of his territory, which was in the North, but at need he extended his vigilant eye to the lower mountain passes. Here then, flying far above the peaks, he spied a glint of white light, and heard the faint clangs of metal upon metal, and the raised laughter of Sauron's hideous orcs, too far from their home. With a sweep of his giant wing, he turned suddenly in for closer inspection, and he saw plainly the Stone of Anor, far below, raised up to the sky in Melune's hand and perceived a dire situation unfolding before him. For he was well aware the gem of such renown could not easily be exposed so to the light of day but for some unknown treachery. And so without warning or thought to the ongoing battle or its combatants, he swooped down into the fray and in an instant snatched the shimmering gem from Melune's gloating hand, and set out without delay towards the sprawling Anduin valley, heading eastward.
Melune screamed in fury, and ran to the brink of the falls, clutching her stinging hand with the other. Uttering obscenities, she watched helplessly as Gwaihir spirited away her prize until she could see him no more. Melune whirled around, stomped her feet and kicked at the dead orc that Kizea had killed earlier. Then turning to her warriors, she commanded that they should set off at once to kill the eagle and recover the stone. Turning around one more time, she glared angrily at the orc who still held Kizea at bay.
"Kill her! NOW!" she screeched, "And catch up to us as you can!"
The orc simply growled in response, and watched Melune and her companions run through the brush and disappear. Now alone, the orc slowly returned his stare to Kizea, and grinned evilly. He thought to prolong his pleasure in killing her, and he took two steps backward, dragging the fighting girl with him. Kizea gasped for breath and fought the huge creature, to no avail. His iron grip did not waver. With one free arm, the orc slowly drew a bloodied knife from its belt. Its arm drew high, preparing to plunge it at some previously chosen target on Kizea. But suddenly its eyes widened and it heaved in a deep breath, and turned its head as though it were confused. Kizea could feel the orc's grip loosening around her neck, and she renewed her struggles to free herself. At that moment, the orc lurched forward and the two fell to the ground. The orc was dead, having been slain by Aldunen with one of its own arrows. Aldunen stood teetering back and forth, some 25 feet away. The bow was still tight within her grasp. The arrow had hit its mark, sailing clean through the orc's heart. Having accomplished her task, Aldunen sank to her knees, lowing her head, breathing hard.
Kizea remained still for a fraction of a second, wondering if perhaps the orc was only pretending to be dead. Then she sat up quickly and roughly shoved the orc's arm away from her; its hand still clenched about her throat, even in death. Coughing, Kizea turned her head to gaze at Aldunen, and then she struggled to stand. Kizea looked at the carnage around her, bodies and blood. It was an eerily familiar sight to her, although she didn't recall actually ever being in a battle. The dirt of her fight was only now beginning to settle upon the ground. Kizea's eyes turned to the endless eastern sky and her mind began to attempt an explanation of what had just occurred. As Aldunen helped Ishil to her feet, the two limped over to where Kizea stood staring over the falls.
"Master," Ishil whispered, "We cannot find Valnin. Has Melune taken him?"
Kizea's head whirled around, her eyes widening at the remembrance of his being thrown from the cliff.
"Valnin!" cried Kizea, "He is over the falls! Quickly! We must find him!"
Turning back around Kizea placed a rigid thumb onto her dislocated fourth finger. Taking in a deep breath and holding it, she shoved hard on the back of her hand. The finger popped back into place, and the Fendowan high warrior bent forward slightly, trying to overcome the agony of the treatment without uttering a sound. It was a typical Fendowan custom. They all felt pain, as any being would, but it was considered weakness of character to show it. Ishil looked away, grimacing as she heard Kizea's knuckle crack. By the time Ishil turned her head again, Kizea had already sprinted to the first fallen orc to retrieve her golden dagger. Beyond a shrubbery, Aldunen stood quietly next to Kizea's second golden dagger, waiting patiently for Kizea to make her way over. It was not any lower Fendowan's place to even touch the golden daggers of the high warriors. She could only point it out and wait for Kizea to retrieve it herself. Kizea trotted over, and with an approving nod of her head, picked up and wiped off her weapon. After the dagger was cleaned, Kizea reached to the base of her tunic and cut away a small loop of cloth before sheathing the dagger. Her intent was to bind her injured fingers. When she had completed her task, Kizea quickly ran towards the cliff.
"Come!" Kizea ordered, "We must find Valnin, for he may be gravely wounded."
"But what of the Stone of Anor?" Aldunen asked with a tone of desperation in her voice.
Kizea shot a menacing gaze at her subordinate. The very look caused Aldunen to fall to her knees and bow her head.
"Forgive me, master!" Aldunen cried, "But the stone! We must find the stone! Over all else!"
Kizea's anger suddenly softened and she walked quietly up to her companion.
"Aldunen, look at me," Kizea said. The girl gazed up.
"The stone is safe for the moment, for an eagle has taken it away from the very clutches of the traitor. I do not know where our search will lead us, but I promise you, the Stone of Anor will guide us to it. This only means we will search a while longer. But Valnin needs us NOW. Let us go to him."
Aldunen nodded slightly, and the three women began the long and dangerous climb down the cliff face. They descended into the mist of the waterfall. Their clothes became heavy-laden with water, and each step became more perilous than the previous. Kizea did not look down purposely, for in her heart she knew the outcome of their search already. In her heart, she was well aware the results of an unprepared fall onto jagged rock. Fifteen feet from the base, she could bear it no more. She held onto a short rim of a ledge, and stretched herself outward. Below her, and some 10 feet further out, lay her brother; face down in the mud, unmoving. Pursing her lips, Kizea let go of the ledge and somersaulted to the ground, her feet sinking deep into the soft embankment.
She quickly made her way over to her half-brother, and knelt beside him. When she gently turned him over, several bloodied puncture wounds became plainly visible in his chest. His arm and left leg were badly broken, yet there was little bleeding. Kizea bent her head low, fighting back tears. She could hear Ishil and Aldunen approach from behind. Kizea outstretched her arm and motioned for them to stop. She could not allow them to see her weeping. Bending over his lifeless head, Kizea whispered.
"My fairest brother. This will not be your end. I will recover the Stone of Anor and with it bring you to life again, as you did me. Rest awhile, my brother, and let me tend to the happy task of exacting vengeance upon she who would betray us both. I'll not rest until Melune is dead. I swear a Fendowan oath to you, I will find a way."
Steeling herself, Kizea rose up and shot a hardened look and the only two loyal Fendowan left to her. Neither Ishil or Aldunen dared speak, but they waited, and watched with some amazement as Kizea took one of her own daggers and brought it to her own face. Expertly, the warrior began to pry loose several pearls and other gems from one side of her decorated mask. Kizea stepped forward to Ishil and held out her hand expectantly.
Ishil glanced sideways at Aldunen, who seemed to offer no explanation of this new odd behavior. She tentatively opened her hand, and Kizea immediately dropped the small treasure into it.
"Valnin is dead," Kizea said, "I charge you both with the task of bearing his body away to distant village in Tuluth. There is a tavern on one side of the village. See the old man, and instruct him to mind to Valnin's body until such a time as I come to retrieve him myself. Give him my offering. Tell him there shall be an additional reward to him for his measure of service. Then you both must make your way back to the compound, on the chance that Melune and her followers will return there with the stone and entrench themselves. I will follow the course of the eagle myself, and if luck holds to us, reclaim the stone as I can."
"But master," Ishil implored, bowing her head. Kizea's hardened gaze fell upon the girl, and she cut short her discourse. With a tiny hand upon Aldunen's shoulder, Kizea continued.
"I am placing Valnin's future upon your shoulders," Kizea said softly. Her eyes drifted over to Ishil, who was hinging upon Kizea's every word with the utmost attention, "This is no small feat I charge you with. If Melune should return to Ryalan, you will be the only ones left to take back what has been stolen. But I MUST pursue the eagle's course. I must assume that the flame of Anor will not soon find its return to Goldorma. And mind you, take great care of Valnin, for once the stone is recovered it may return him to a Fendowan's life. Be cautious with whom you speak, and say only what I have told you. Melune has allied herself with the darker powers of Middle-Earth, or she would not have orcs as her servants. And the dark powers have many spies in their attendance. They must believe we are all dead or dispersed now. Surprise remains our only hope."
The two women knelt to one knee in solemnity before Kizea and at once set to preparing for the arduous task of transporting Valnin's body to the broken city of Tuluth. Neither questioned Kizea's choice, but in her describing the tavern, both knew that Kizea or Valnin must have had some previous associations there. It was well known that when a living being became servant of the Stone of Anor, neither mind nor memories were clearly wiped away. Rather, the stone's protection became the only undying purpose for a Fendowan warrior.
For Kizea, however, who had been resurrected, it was different. Her mind, being cleared of all thoughts in death, arose once again with no knowledge or feelings of her past. Kizea knew that Tuluth was Valnin's former home, before the city was sacked 10 years previous. On rare occasions, he would relate memories to Kizea, who until that moment in time, was not the least interested in such trivialities. Now, she saw it as a sanctuary for her brother's body. And it was her hope there would be some people left in the town who would remember him or her, and take to his keeping. Valnin had once mentioned the innkeeper as being a friend to their family, and a poor, but amiable man. Pressed for time, Kizea felt that he represented Valnin's best chance. She bid her companions goodbye, and bowed to them, and bade them to be vigilant in their grave duty. Both Ishil and Aldunen bowed in turn, and swore to adhere to their task unto their own deaths.
Now, unencumbered with Valnin's care, Kizea's thoughts grew grim and resolute as she made her way to the East. The eagle had flown to the greater Anduin valley with the Stone of Anor in its talons, and Kizea was well aware that Melune would also be searching for the great bird. Kizea was determined to retrieve the stone at all costs before Melune found her way to it. And then, with the stone in her possession, she would find a way to defeat Melune and restore her brother.
Kizea walked the lonesome winding trails through the foothills for two more days, choosing the steepest cliffs and most dangerous ledges in an effort to gain some advantage in distance traveled over Melune and the others. At last, the great width and breath of the Anduin valley lay spread out before her. As the downward drafts of gentle mountain breezes tugged at her tunic, Kizea felt a sense of hopelessness to the entire ordeal. Tracking an animal or a person who left the smallest bit of evidence behind as to their direction was relatively easy. Tracking a bird in flight was entirely another. It was a daunting task. She gazed at the sky around her, seeing nothing. The light of day was waning in the sky, and Kizea sighed at the thought of further pursuit that night. In the end, she decided to climb to the pinnacle of a grand, broad-leafed tree that seemed oddly out of place for its location, to rest for the night. She pulled herself close to the trunk at the tree's uppermost branches and looked out once more over the empty skyline, and she fell into a fitful sleep.
Sometime later, she awoke lazily as a stray Mallorn branch gently touched her face over and over in the night breeze. At first, Kizea thought it was an animal, but upon seeing the branch, she smiled and gently moved it to one side. It was as though the tree was chiding her for using it as a bed for the night. But when she extended the tiny branch out, her eye caught sight of a faint below some twenty feet below. Almost at once, she smelled the smoke of a fire and the faint whisperings of a chant. Her blood ran cold as she knew it could only be Melune. Shifting herself slightly to the left for a better view, Kizea sat rigidly watching her. Kizea thought to drop out of the tree and fight, but to what end? Kizea knew there were others in Melune's company, and an unforeseen hesitation once again held her back. Better to find out what Melune was doing. Almost as these thoughts entered Kizea's mind, Melune suddenly stood up, looking wildly around. Kizea froze.
An orc suddenly lumbered into the camp from the darkness, and Melune immediately berated it for disturbing her. The orc, agitated and regretful, retreated back into the nothingness. Returning to her seat, Melune began repeating her chant once more. The campfire took on a strange blackening hue from its center, and the growing flames licked at the lowest branches of the tree. Kizea frowned as she realized that Melune was conjuring something, although she did not know what. Kizea never actually saw anything materialize, but what she could not see, Melune did. And for the first time in her life, Kizea saw Melune bow on her hands and knees as a servant would before its master. Then the voice spoke, and it sent a chill so violent through Kizea that she felt she might fall out of the tree. It was far more menacing and evil than any voice Kizea had ever heard, and in her heart she knew that Melune had laid herself subject to the most evil being in Middle-Earth, Sauron.
"Why have you not procured my prize?" the voice demanded.
"The eagle Gwaihir has taken it," Melune replied in a low, angry voice, "I call upon you to help me secure it once again."
"Help you? You have failed your task, and you request my favor? The power of Anor has made you weak, underling! Perhaps the other of the Fendowan may serve me better. What of them?"
"Those that did not join me are dead," she replied, "I am your strongest, mighty Sauron. And I WILL deliver the Stone of Anor into your hands. I only need to know where it has gone." The voice remained silent for a moment.
"Seek out the wizard," the voice hissed again, "Go to the East and into dense Mirkwood and find the wizard in the elf king's keep. The eagle brings the Anor stone to him. The stone must be recovered before the eagle sets it into the wizard's hand!"
"As you command, Master. But when I have reclaimed it, and brought forth your legions to Middle-Earth, where then shall I stand? What will be your reward to me?" A great shaking of the ground began, and the fire roared high into the night sky. Kizea's grip on the tree trunk tightened slightly.
"All I ask master is to serve you!" Melune shouted quickly, "But for my unending obedience. For my delivering Middle-Earth itself into your grip and making all its inhabitants your slaves, what for me? I am well aware that the king of the world has many generals. Who will lead your armies to cover Middle-Earth?"
The fire seemed to wane, and it grew small to its previous height, and Kizea fought to prevent herself from shaking. Another long moment passed, and then the voice returned, calmer, almost amused at Melune's audacity.
"Retrieve the Stone of Anor and resurrect all my armies since the cursed last alliance. When all I have commanded is done, the mightiest of all these armies shall be yours."
Melune sat speechless for a moment, attempting to stifle the giddiness of Sauron's offer. Then she grew grim once more and seemed to suddenly comprehend another difficulty.
"Rakal. The vilest of your generals, second only to me. When the great Rakal is returned into being with the other hundreds of thousands, surely he will object to my taking his vast armies for my own. And when I have killed him once again, master, I will suffer no revenge from you?"
"The Stone of Anor will be mine. Bring back the stone to me, and you shall be my general in Middle-Earth," the voice croaked, "Fail me again and I will leave your punishment to Rakal's choosing."
Melune inexplicably shuddered, then bowed low once more. The fire instantaneously burned a bright orange and all the forest seemed normal once more. Melune stood up, quiet for some minutes. Then she cried out to the darkness. Almost at once, 5 orcs from all angles began to penetrate the firelight. Sasgal and Tragora stepped up also, bending upon one knee before their master. Kizea could not see the others, but she knew they were there, waiting beyond the reach of the firelight.
"We leave at once for Mirkwood!" Melune barked. A great flurry of activity proceeded and Kizea remained frozen atop the tree branch, barely breathing. She had not perceived in her darkest thoughts that Melune would ever be subservient to another, much less Sauron. Until this moment, Kizea's unending mission was only to protect the Stone of Anor against lowly mortals and would-be thieves. For the mythical gem to fall into the hands of the most evil force in all existence would be more disastrous than anyone's comprehension.
Unwilling to risk Melune's sudden return to that area, Kizea remained rigid in the tree long after Melune and the others left. Finally, when the dawn was just beginning to rise over the east, she decided to descend the tree and continue the journey. A chill sped through her as she climbed slowly down the tree. As Kizea stood silently before the final remaining embers of Melune's fire, the entire gravity of the situation unraveled before her. Kizea began her trek once again, this time with a darker purpose and urgency, and she began to run. Onto the open plain of the Anduin Kizea sprinted, and she set her course to the East, where the mysterious woodlands of Mirkwood lay, the dense, dank forest of the Northern elves, home to King Thranduil.
"Mirkwood is no place for men folk," Valnin had once told her, "The elves, fair in visage, are hard in temperament. They brook no trespasser to their territories, and are exceedingly hard to find at all, but when they need the help of men to benefit their own ends. That we should never venture into that gloomy woodland is a blessing in disguise for us. I would much rather face the thousand stair than steer into that lonely wasteland."
"Then it is to Mirkwood I must go," she thought as she ran, "For Valnin, and the stone, I must find the elves. They will help me. They must."
Over the course of the next few days, she rested little, and ate sparingly from the berries and roots that the earth offered up to her in her passing. Kizea steered clear of every village, but after several days afoot, her body began to tire and her fierce will began to wane. She needed another way.
On a bright, clear morning, a peasant farmer made his way to his stable. Scratching his chest, he stumbled to begin a day of work after a long night of drinking. Upon opening the door, though, he was shocked to find his mare missing. He cursed loudly, still half intoxicated and ran outside, thinking a prank had been played upon him, but his mare was nowhere to be seen. Muttering of his misfortune, the farmer began to close the barn door when he stopped short and blinked. In the sunshine he imagined he saw a gleam from the corner of his eye, near his horse's stall. He stepped closer. Suddenly he realized the glimmer was two shimmering emeralds and a pearl, placed gently upon an upturned bucket, refracting a ray of sunlight. It was a fortune for the man; enough recompense to buy several horses and another week's worth of ale from the tavern, or perhaps even more. The man looked around the area one last time before roughly shoving the stones in his pocket, and with a smile he left the barn, walking fast towards the village marketplace.
At that same moment, far out on the plain, Kizea raced towards Mirkwood on her new mount. The mare joyously ran, being unharnessed and unbridled for the first time in years. They proceeded northeast for a time, stopping only for short rests. The horse would happily graze on high grass and Kizea would pick berries and root vegetables. Though their time together was short, Kizea liked the horse, and she rather fancied the horse to liking her. The Fendowan's new companion followed her about as a shadow would, never wandering far from Kizea's friendly hand. But Kizea knew the partnership would not be long-lived. Even as they came upon the borders of Mirkwood forest, the mare reared and refused to carry Kizea any further.
Finally dismounting, Kizea gazed at her companion, patting the horse's soft muzzle. She dipped her hand into her pocket one final time and fed the animal her last two wild carrots.
"I do not hold this against you," Kizea said tenderly, "I would not attempt it either, if I was not compelled. But my business takes me into the wood, while yours does not. You are a free animal now. Go to the plains and graze wild from now on. Good luck my friend."
Kizea turned and began to walk to the outer rim of the forest, only to be stopped short. The mare had grabbed her tunic in her teeth, and was pulling the girl backwards. Almost stumbling back, Kizea laughed and petted her once again, and reassured the horse that she would be quite all right. Then she proceeded into the wood, more concerned now simply because of the mare's behavior. But she saw nothing to give her any alarm. All seemed quiet and the dense forest even reminded her of the Ryalan woodlands on the Fendowan mountain. The woods were more to Kizea's liking. The cool, musty smells within the elven woodlands were a stark contrast to the hot, dry plains in the Anduin. Several days passed by as Kizea pushed northward, and still she found no sign of the elves or the eagle.
One night, as she sat next to a large tree, huddled tightly against the chill of the night, Kizea heard a slight crack of a branch. She stood up at once, but heard nothing more. However, she decided to investigate the noise anyway. Pulling herself up the nearest tree, Kizea scanned the area beneath her. If the elves were nearby, she did not wish to disturb them straightaway. She wanted to observe the elusive Mirkwood elves first and determine what she was dealing with. What Kizea found was quite different.
Peering through a canopy of branches, Kizea looked to the forest floor, but could perceive no movement. Another crack of a branch directly above her made her jerk back. Almost at once, she was covered with a sticky, sinewy silk. Kizea cried out in surprise, her arms pinned hopelessly against her sides. Kizea immediately began to work her arms to free them. From somewhere above in Kizea's tree, a grotesque, black spider, pulled upwards on her web with immense, powerful legs. Kizea's arms instantly clung tighter to her side. She could now barely move at all. Horrified, the girl jumped off the branch in an attempt to escape, only to be upheld by the long strand of silk that secured her.
"A delicious meal!" Kizea heard a voice say gleefully.
"I wonder if there are others?" said another.
"Save some for me!" said still another.
Dangling upside down, Kizea was slowly hauled upward once more to the tree branch towards the spider. Fighting and wrenching her wrist, Kizea finally managed to pull free one of her daggers. At the very moment when the spider held Kizea up with its two front legs, readying for a killing bite, Kizea cut through the silk webbing that bound her and she drove her dagger directly into the creature's gaping jaws. Screeching in pain, the giant spider lowered its legs, but still maintained its iron grip on the girl. Undaunted, it began to raise Kizea up again, for another attack.
"You've not had enough of your meal then?" Kizea cried out angrily. Slicing hard across and then downward, she cut clean through one of the legs that held her, and she dropped to the forest floor. Almost as soon as Kizea landed to the ground, the spider, now headless, came crashing through the branches. It was dead.
With her other arm freed at last, Kizea took a defensive stance against the remaining spiders who hissed and wailed in the trees. Raising one dagger to the sky, and the other in front of her, she issued a challenge to those that remained.
"I am Kizea! Master and leader of the Fendowan! I wield the flame of Anor! Advance to me and die!"
And as she spoke these words, a low hum began to emanate from her golden mask, and a bright light poured forth in all directions, illuminating the forest. Immediately more screeches resounded throughout the treetops.
"A Fendowan! HERE!" one voice screamed.
"Away! Away!" cried out another.
The branches of the treetops bent downwards as Kizea's assailants scurried away. She stood for some moments, unmoving. Another sound, barely perceptible to her ears came from behind. Kizea whirled around and crossed her daggers in front of her. Two elven arrows instantly ricocheted off of the knives into the darkness.
Kizea could feel the presence of the elves all around her, and estimated there to be 6 or more. She could also feel their arrows trained upon her. And for some unknown reason, Kizea began to feel more like a trapped animal than a distinguished visitor. She glanced quickly upward to the treetops where only moments earlier she had nearly become a spider's dinner. The nearest tree limb was too far away, and an immediate escape seemed futile.
"Wait!" she cried, breathing hard, "I have come to see your king!"
Tentatively, Kizea slowly lowered her daggers, and stood silent. From the darkness emerged several tall, glowing beings. All had arrows at the ready in their bows, menacingly pointed at Kizea from all angles. Two others, tall and grim came and stood before her. Kizea gazed with wonder at them. To her, Valnin had been totally correct. Hard and unmoving as they seemed in personality, their beauty and poise seemed unmatched. Her eyes settled on a silent one to her right. His bright blue eyes seemed to look through her. No fairer being had Kizea ever seen.
"And why would a Fendowan journey all this way to visit our king?" asked one distrustfully.
"My business is with only the king," Kizea replied with as much contempt, "Take me to him and I vow no harm shall come to you!"
The elves glanced at each other, their eyes sparkling with slight amusement. The grim elf only stared at Kizea with animosity.
"You are ambitious to believe the king shall grant an audience to one who shows such hatred for those creatures alive in his lands! I ask you again, what is your business here?"
The elf glanced sideways at the dead spider lying on the cold ground. Kizea bristled.
"If you believe me to be a Fendowan, then you know that I have journeyed from afar with a grave purpose! For once we are allied to the Stone of Anor, we may never leave the mountain of Goldorma. But such a bitter situation has arisen, that I am compelled to leave my homeland. I have most urgent business involving the wizard who is visiting your king! And should I fail in my task, all of Middle-Earth will fall under a dark veil of evil. That is as much as I can tell you."
With lightening speed, Kizea twirled her daggers in her hands and sheathed them. The two tallish elves, stepped backwards and whispered to themselves as she waited. Tense moments dragged by for the girl, and she nervously looked around in search of more spiders. Finally, the two elves came forward once more and stood before her.
"We have no quarrel with a being of the light," one elf said, "But you will not pass further into our realm. You come here not invited. We will take you to the borders of Mirkwood and there shall you leave our territory."
Two more elves came up to her and grabbed her arms, each slipping a length of thin rope about her wrists and tying them tightly around her back. Then, shoved from behind, they began to walk forward. Desperate, Kizea turned suddenly, broke away and ran up to the elf with the intense blue eyes. Immediately her captors were upon her, attempting to drag her away. Realizing that she was losing perhaps her only chance to talk to the elven king, Kizea struggled hard, until the blue-eyed elf raised his hand and all movement stopped. Kizea was let go, and she angrily jerked her body away from one elf who kept a steady hand on her shoulder.
She gazed into the elf's puzzled eyes and spoke with such a gentle, sweet voice that it shocked the him. He stared down at the girl, not able to look away. Kizea's voice had a sort of low, steady resonance to it that seemed to sweep him up within its grasp and hold him there.
"You must listen to me. This is most important," Kizea pleaded quietly, "and we've not much time. I beg of you!"
"Humph!" the other elf said sarcastically, "She lies! A Fendowan who would beg the aid of the elves! Let us turn her to the border Legolas, and be done with her! She has caused enough mischief already, and there will be much explaining to do as it is!"
Humiliated, Kizea felt the elf raised a valid point. No Fendowan would ever be subject to an outsider, but she was desperate. To be turned away now would result in catastrophe for the world. The elf suddenly raised his hand again, and his companion fell silent.
"No," he said still gazing at her, "She does not lie. I can see it in her eyes. Will you be blindfolded? For no stranger may enter the elven kingdom and see of its whereabouts."
"Is it not enough that I am bound and debased before you?" she answered angrily. But the elf, Legolas said nothing and only stood silently before her, waiting expectantly. Kizea sighed.
"Very well," she said in a low voice, "For the world is changing too quickly, and what once was can no longer be. The Fendowan must change as well if the world is to survive. I cannot tarry here, bartering for a Fendowan's pride. The world is in much peril, and indeed it may be too late already. I will allow you to blindfold me, but only you! No one else is to touch me!"
An elf pulled a long swath of elven linen from a pack and handed it to Legolas. He did not smile or reassure Kizea as he tightened it over her mask. But when he took her arm, his touch seemed gentler than the others, and the group proceeded into the woods, this time in a new direction.
But now, as the group trotted through the brush and mud of a mountain stream, his thoughts turned back to those times. He reminisced of his mother and stepfather. When Valnin was younger, he had no associations with his sister. She had grown up with a life of privilege, and he in a life of hardship. After Kizea's mother died of a fever, Kizea's powerful father did not remarry, but took to his bed the most beautiful women in the realm. Such was Valnin's mother. She raised her son in anonymity, but Valnin eventually grew to know that he had a sibling. Then the darker days came. While out on a fishing trip, the orc general Rakal swept through the Anduin valley and laid waste to all the lands in his path. The only home and family Valnin had ever known was destroyed. The few that remained set out to find Rakal and exact retribution for his crimes. Unbeknownst to Valnin, his sister had also survived the attacks. They found themselves together in a meager army, set out for the elf havens of Isodor and Tamlot, to confront and stop the orc army from taking the elf havens to slavery or death. There, in that bloody battle was Kizea killed, and Valnin set out on his new quest, to find the fabled gem. He had not thought of the past in years, but now his thoughts were changing. Valnin took notice of his companions as they walked and wondered if perhaps they were thinking similar thoughts. Hastening his pace, Valnin sidled up to Kizea, and spoke softly to her, almost in a whisper.
"One thing bothers me," he began quietly.
However, Kizea, still intent on her mission, paid little heed to him. She kept up her pace, and Valnin was forced to trot to keep up with her. When she refused a reply a second time, he slunk back into line and said no more. But suddenly from behind, a soft voice spoke up. It was Aldunen.
"What troubles you, Valnin?" she asked.
Valnin's behavior had been undeniably remorseful since the discovery earlier. Aldunen thought perhaps Valnin felt guilty for having possibly seen the thief and not stopped them. She meant to comfort him in some small way. She meant to remind him that a Fendowan's business was never questioned. It was simply not done, and he would've been within his rights to do nothing. He turned his head and glanced backwards at the tall, stately girl. She quickened her pace until she walked beside him.
"Do not be distressed by Melune's sharp tongue. And I would not see you grieve over not having stopped a Fendowan imposter. How sadder would you now be having delayed the urgent business of one of our own? Especially in light of what has happened."
"That is not what troubles me," he said in a low voice.
"What is it?" she asked, "Surely you do not have an idea that Master Melune could be correct, that we've a traitor among us. It is impossible."
"More is the pity!" he said softly, "Master Melune and I are in agreement on this one point. A Fendowan it was! It must have been! Alas!"
At this, Kizea stopped and abruptly turned around, glaring at him. The others stopped, and were so frightened by her demeanor, that they all fell to their knees at once. All save for Valnin.
"You have something to say, Valnin? Out with it! Or hold thy wretched tongue! For I will not suffer to hear this treasonous speech from a Fendowan of the highest order! I will not hear the words you are whispering! How dare you accuse one of your own order of such an evil deed?"
Bowing his head low before the seething Kizea, he swallowed hard before speaking.
"I have but one thing that troubles me," he whispered. His voice cracked. Before Kizea's angry confrontation, his self-confidence had all but dissolved.
"What then? Speak it or be silent!"
"Great and wise Kizea, if a stranger should negotiate the thousand stair, a grand feat to be sure, why would the Stone of Anor not press that honored person to its service? It has all others before them."
Kizea's gaze seemed to ease a bit. For a moment she had no reply to him.
"I do not know why," she said at last, "I do not question the stone!"
"I know why," Valnin replied gazing at her, "Because the thief is already in the stone's service. That is why."
Kizea stared blankly at her brother, and then at the others. She walked over to Aldunen, who still knelt, fearing her leader's anger. Kizea gently pulled on Aldunen's arm and coaxed him to stand. The others followed suit. And when all were on their feet once again, Kizea stood before her brother, and spoke with a new softness in her voice.
"When we find the Stone of Anor, Valnin, we shall find our thief. For I do not believe that they could have gotten far. And then you shall see that you are mistaken, my brother. All will be well. The light of Anor will be recovered, and the thief who poses as a Fendowan will be put to an appropriate end, I will see to it myself. All will be well again. I am sure of it."
Valnin nodded slowly, but Kizea could still see the doubt that hung in his eyes. Looking about the group, she spoke up again.
"We are wasting precious time. Let us proceed to the cave and mark the trail. We will pursue our quarry from there. Let us all be mindful that we are come together for a single purpose, and that is to retrieve the Secret Fire (the Stone of Anor) to its rightful place. Let us away."
With that, Kizea spun on her heel and continued on through the forest. Upon reaching the cave entrance, they set to a new direction to the south, and towards the Pass of Balsor. Although Kizea remained confident that the sacred gem would be recovered that same day, it was not to be so. The group trudged through the wood all through the night, and the following day. At times the trail seemed to break, or disappear altogether. A broken stick, a smudged bit of dirt, or a faint footprint however, always showed the way.
One day turned to another, until almost a week had passed them by, and still they followed the trail southwards, until they were nigh on one of the most southerly passes across the Misty Mountains, the Pass of Balsor. They slept and ate little, and the entire company was growing weary. With no supplies and no warmth, negotiating the treacherous passageway would be difficult, but Kizea had no intentions of returning and outfitting themselves. They rested in the green foothills for one night. Wood was plentiful, and many fish were plucked from the mountain streams. That night, the Fendowans feasted on a supper of berries and fish, and prepared to make the crossing on the following day, when the warmth of the sun would be their ally. Their spirits were high.
The pass, which cut a ragged road over the mountains, lay somewhere between the High Pass and the Redhorn Pass, which for most travelers, was situated too uncomfortably close to the infamous Dwarven realm of Moria. When Irwindal and Tuluth were bustling kingdoms on the Anduin, the Pass of Balsor was commonly used by the race of men. Although that particular trail was not used without some care, for it dumped out on the opposite side of the mountains very close to the elven city of Isodor, and it was not a wise man that trespassed upon elven ground. But now, following the ruin of the once great cities, few beings traveled over the nearly forgotten road. Indeed, in time, the Pass of Balsor would disappear altogether from traveler's maps. Each of Kizea's warriors carried with them an armload of wood, to ensure a warming fire in the cold darkness. The stars were so numerous in the evenings that several of the Fendowan felt their very path was being lighted before them in the dead of the night, and none wished to take rest. They, all of them, took the evening's brightness as a sign that their quest was drawing to an end, and their ordeal was nearly over.
They walked in silence for days, only stopping for a few brief hours each night to sleep. They huddled together to keep warm, but rest was only a pleasant memory for them. Until the stone was found, they could neither sleep nor eat well, and only sheer exhaustion prompted a few of the group to sleep soundly. Kizea, however, could only take short catnaps. She would awake in the darkness and jump to her feet and prod the others to continue the journey. It was her only goal, the only thought in her mind.
Luckily, mid-summer was coming to its zenith. There was no snow, and very little wind in the southern parts of the mountains at that time of year, although it did remain cold when the sun tucked itself away in the western sky. Now their trail was laid out before them like a beacon over a vast ocean of rock and dirt. Being well skilled in tracking quarry, the footprints that brazenly appeared in the dirt were not difficult to follow.
When they had finally traversed the treacherous Bandal ridge, Kizea found something that had surprised her, even shocked her. Kizea's group had now emerged on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains, having negotiated the crossing. Now they began to see green trees shooting up here and there, growing thicker in the low lands. And the tributaries that would eventually come to form the river Gladden in the Anduin valley now became more frequent. But as Kizea's keen eyes followed a deep footprint in the mud, she suddenly stopped short.
"What is it?" asked Valnin as he walked up to her. Kizea pointed beyond the brushes to 5 other sets of footprints.
"Others have passed this way recently," she whispered, "It seems we are not the only ones hunting our quarry today."
Ishil came up behind them to look as well. Kizea began to scan the landscape in every direction.
"Master Melune perhaps?" Ishil asked quietly. Kizea shook her head.
"No," Kizea replied, "Melune should be pursuing any trails to the North or West. And see here, there are 5 distinct sets of footprints. We must be cautious now."
Towards a distant cliff, the group suddenly became aware of laughter of sorts, mingled with cries and muffled voices. Kizea immediately dropped to the ground, her arm extended outward and in back of her. The rest of the group halted, frozen in their respective places. Kizea turned her head and motioned to Valnin to follow her, and the others to stay where they were. The two then moved quietly towards the cliff.
As they approached the clearing, they crept along on their hands and knees until they reached the top of a cliff. Beyond it, a tremendous crashing of water resounded throughout the foothills as the falls fell over the precipice. Kizea peeked through some thick brush and gazed worriedly at the source of the commotion. What she saw perplexed her. It was, in fact, Melune and the remainder of the order. There were also two large orc soldiers. This was most strange to Kizea, for she was unaware of any Fendowan befriending any outsiders. Seeing nearly half of the Fendowan in the company of orcs astonished her. Another woman, whom Kizea did not recognize, stood before Melune, and was being held by one of the orcs. She was dressed as a Fendowan, but wore neither mask nor blade. A leather purse hung from her belt. She was beseeching Melune to spare her. Pulling her own golden dagger from its sheath, Melune cut the purse from the girl's waist and held it for a brief moment in front of her. Kizea knew that it must be the Stone of Anor, found at last. Kizea was almost overwhelmed with happiness, but still something held her back. The presence of the orcs troubled her, and she did not know why.
As Kizea watched the scene unfold, Valnin crept up behind her. In seeing Melune and the others, he perceived what Kizea did; that the thief and the Stone of Anor were found at last. Joyously Valnin leapt to his feet and broke through the Brush, running happily towards the group. Melune jerked her head in the boy's direction.
"Valnin!" Kizea cried out standing up, "Hold!"
One of the orcs whirled around, and instantly set out towards Valnin. The other orc, who had been holding the imposter captive, took the captive girl's head between its massive hands and jerked his arms to the left. A sudden crack, like a breaking tree branch was heard, and the girl fell dead.
By now, Kizea was through the bushes and sprinting up to the group. When the orc came close, Valnin drew both of his daggers. The creature however was huge; three times Valnin's size. When they clashed the beast simply picked up the boy in one swift motion, and threw Valnin to the side. Valnin landed and staggered backwards, directly into the arms of the second orc, which grabbed him from behind. Valnin struggled with the creature for a brief instant before it lifted Valnin clean over its head.
"Melune! Melune!" cried Kizea as she ran, "Stop him! Stop him!"
But the Fendowan high priestess merely stood gazing at the creature, and did nothing. The orc looked back at Kizea. Then with an evil laugh, he heaved Valnin over the edge of the cliff his screams became fainter and then disappeared altogether. Drawing her blades as she ran, Kizea screamed in anguish. The orc bent forward in a defensive posture, preparing to deliver the same fate to Kizea.
Melune briefly lowered the leather purse in her hand, suddenly interested in Kizea's performance. She had never actually seen Kizea fight to the death. Many days would Melune silently watch the others as they trained. But only Kizea, bent on training in secrecy, moved about the Ryalan woods and let no audience near her. Melune was always intensely curious as to the level of Kizea's skill, and whether or not it exceeded her own. Whenever Kizea returned from training in the cool afternoons, Melune would often venture out to different areas of the woods until she thought she had spied her counterpart's training site. She would examine the same dead tree trunk, used as Kizea's target. Then Melune endeavored to examine the lush forest floor to find where Kizea had stood, for hitting a target from a short distance would be no great feat.
But Melune could find no footprint or broken blade of grass, and although Kizea trained daily for hours, there ever remained but one solitary knife wound in her target. Melune remained confused by these meager signs, until one day she hid secretly nearby to discover the truth. The Fendowan master had come to the conclusion that Kizea simply did not train in that area of the woods any longer, but she was mistaken. She waited until the height of the morning had passed, and then to her astonishment, Kizea came, leaping from tree to tree. Hanging upside down by her feet or dangling from one arm, Kizea heaved her weapons at the miniscule target below from all angles, each time striking the exact same spot. She never missed. She would then pounce onto the tree trunk from somewhere above, retrieve her weapons, and begin the process over.
Now, the entertainment of the impending battle between Kizea and the huge orc was too enticing to ignore. She looked on with morbid curiosity. Melune was certain, as was the orc, that Kizea would jump at the beast and attempt to bury her two golden daggers into its chest. But Kizea could plainly see that the creature wished to pitch her off the cliff as it did her brother. So rather than jump on the orc, she jumped at him. Garnering as much speed as possible, she leapt into the air, tightening her legs. She aimed the impact of her attack at the orc's left shin. When the outside rim of her heel made contact, a sudden crack could be distinctly heard. The monster cried out in pain and dropped to its knees. As though she had bounced off a wall of stone, Kizea twirled around and fell onto the ground. The orc had almost fallen on top of her. The beast instantly reached out and grabbed her by the hair, pinning down her left hand. It greedily eyed the golden, jeweled dagger in Kizea's grasp, and the creature thought to claim it for its own. After all, there would be no greater trophy than a Fendowan's dagger and a Fendowan without her weapons was a much easier prey to overcome. But instead of wrenching its prize away, the orc's greasy fingers slipped and yanked back on Kizea's fingers instead. Two more cracks could be heard, coupled with a sudden, muffled cry. And in an instant, two of Kizea's fingers were dislocated.
Melune smiled beneath her mask as she watched, and she wondered how long Kizea would defend herself being thus injured. But Kizea was not one to easily give up. Taking advantage of the beast's loosened grip, Kizea pulled her arm free and stabbed at the orc's neck. Blackened gooey, blood dripped from the creature. The orc looked down at Kizea, at the intense fury in her eyes. Without another sound, it fell over, lifeless, her razor-sharp dagger shoved completely through its neck. The smile slowly left Melune's face as Kizea slowly rose to her feet. Straddling the dead creature and breathing heavily, Kizea glared at Melune. Kizea cried out and heaved her remaining dagger at Melune. But the Fendowan master merely blocked it with her arm, and it fell harmlessly to the ground.
From the brush now came Kizea's other companions. They had approached the area in time to see Kizea kill one of the orcs. Now they burst through the bushes, crying out, their daggers drawn. The second orc, having retrieved its bow, pulled back on the string until it nearly broke under the strain. The orc shot dead the first Fendowan that jumped into the clearing. Those who had accompanied Melune, Sasgal and Tragora, drew their own weapons and ran towards the others.
Melune took three steps backwards, but her gaze never strayed from Kizea.
"I've no time for you, Kizea," Melune said menacingly, "I've more important matters to attend to."
"What are you doing?" Kizea cried out, "Order them to stop!"
Melune chuckled and drew up the purse. Tipping it over, an overwhelming bright light pierced the misty waterfall, as the Stone of Anor fell into Melune's open hand. Ishil lowered her guard, and stared at the mystical gem in Melune's hand. Running up to her, Tragora seized the opportunity and struck Ishil in her temple with the butt end of her dagger. The unsuspecting girl fell over instantly, next to Aldunen, unconscious. Aldunen, who was now similarly wounded by Sasgal, found it difficult to fight in the stone's presence. She was mesmerized and could not fight back, but could only gaze at the stone's intense light as she lay helpless on the ground.
"The Stone of Anor!" whispered Kizea, her eyes widening.
"Yes!" Melune laughed as she held the shining gem triumphantly above her head, "And now it shall remain MY servant for all time."
"Traitor!" Kizea cried angrily as she stepped forward, "I'll kill you!"
But Melune only laughed and motioned to her orc underling. The creature began walking ominously towards Kizea. Clenching her left fist, Kizea struck the hideous creature in the face with what was left of her strength. It turned for a moment, wincing at the blow, and slowly drew back its head. A hideous smile came to its mouth, exposing its many glistening teeth. Then it grabbed Kizea violently by the neck, and began forcing Kizea backwards until she stood upon the very brink of the falls. Kizea wildly kicked at the huge creature, but had little leverage against the enormous beast. In the background, Melune continued to gloat triumphantly.
"Have you learned nothing these long years?" Melune laughed, "No Fendowan may spill the blood of another Fendowan, the stone will prevent you! That is why I need these creatures! I would have taken much pleasure in a duel to the finish with you, my dearest friend, but he will dispatch you for me just as easily!"
Kizea perceived in those final few moments that Valnin was at least, in part, correct; the traitor was from within their own ranks, and the traitor was Melune. With her company dispatched, and on the brink of oblivion herself, there seemed little hope now for her survival. She did not yet comprehend what purpose Melune had planned for the Stone of Anor, but Melune had shattered the entire Fendowan order to achieve it. Kizea's heart, in her final miserable moments, filled with intense hatred for her trusted former friend. She prepared herself for the inevitable drop from the cliff, thinking that with luck on her side she might be able to grab onto a rocky ledge. But the moment did not come. Just as the orc held Kizea at the brink of the cliff, everyone's attentions turned upward to the sky.
As many will tell you, in the struggle of good and evil there can be such rare and haphazard occurrences as to tip the scales one way or the other, creating hope where there was none, even if only for a short time. Such a moment was this.
On this mid-summer's day, the mighty eagle, Gwaihir the Windlord, friend to elves and wizards alike, Lord of the skies, by chance was soaring over the foothills of Balsor. Indeed, this ground was not of his territory, which was in the North, but at need he extended his vigilant eye to the lower mountain passes. Here then, flying far above the peaks, he spied a glint of white light, and heard the faint clangs of metal upon metal, and the raised laughter of Sauron's hideous orcs, too far from their home. With a sweep of his giant wing, he turned suddenly in for closer inspection, and he saw plainly the Stone of Anor, far below, raised up to the sky in Melune's hand and perceived a dire situation unfolding before him. For he was well aware the gem of such renown could not easily be exposed so to the light of day but for some unknown treachery. And so without warning or thought to the ongoing battle or its combatants, he swooped down into the fray and in an instant snatched the shimmering gem from Melune's gloating hand, and set out without delay towards the sprawling Anduin valley, heading eastward.
Melune screamed in fury, and ran to the brink of the falls, clutching her stinging hand with the other. Uttering obscenities, she watched helplessly as Gwaihir spirited away her prize until she could see him no more. Melune whirled around, stomped her feet and kicked at the dead orc that Kizea had killed earlier. Then turning to her warriors, she commanded that they should set off at once to kill the eagle and recover the stone. Turning around one more time, she glared angrily at the orc who still held Kizea at bay.
"Kill her! NOW!" she screeched, "And catch up to us as you can!"
The orc simply growled in response, and watched Melune and her companions run through the brush and disappear. Now alone, the orc slowly returned his stare to Kizea, and grinned evilly. He thought to prolong his pleasure in killing her, and he took two steps backward, dragging the fighting girl with him. Kizea gasped for breath and fought the huge creature, to no avail. His iron grip did not waver. With one free arm, the orc slowly drew a bloodied knife from its belt. Its arm drew high, preparing to plunge it at some previously chosen target on Kizea. But suddenly its eyes widened and it heaved in a deep breath, and turned its head as though it were confused. Kizea could feel the orc's grip loosening around her neck, and she renewed her struggles to free herself. At that moment, the orc lurched forward and the two fell to the ground. The orc was dead, having been slain by Aldunen with one of its own arrows. Aldunen stood teetering back and forth, some 25 feet away. The bow was still tight within her grasp. The arrow had hit its mark, sailing clean through the orc's heart. Having accomplished her task, Aldunen sank to her knees, lowing her head, breathing hard.
Kizea remained still for a fraction of a second, wondering if perhaps the orc was only pretending to be dead. Then she sat up quickly and roughly shoved the orc's arm away from her; its hand still clenched about her throat, even in death. Coughing, Kizea turned her head to gaze at Aldunen, and then she struggled to stand. Kizea looked at the carnage around her, bodies and blood. It was an eerily familiar sight to her, although she didn't recall actually ever being in a battle. The dirt of her fight was only now beginning to settle upon the ground. Kizea's eyes turned to the endless eastern sky and her mind began to attempt an explanation of what had just occurred. As Aldunen helped Ishil to her feet, the two limped over to where Kizea stood staring over the falls.
"Master," Ishil whispered, "We cannot find Valnin. Has Melune taken him?"
Kizea's head whirled around, her eyes widening at the remembrance of his being thrown from the cliff.
"Valnin!" cried Kizea, "He is over the falls! Quickly! We must find him!"
Turning back around Kizea placed a rigid thumb onto her dislocated fourth finger. Taking in a deep breath and holding it, she shoved hard on the back of her hand. The finger popped back into place, and the Fendowan high warrior bent forward slightly, trying to overcome the agony of the treatment without uttering a sound. It was a typical Fendowan custom. They all felt pain, as any being would, but it was considered weakness of character to show it. Ishil looked away, grimacing as she heard Kizea's knuckle crack. By the time Ishil turned her head again, Kizea had already sprinted to the first fallen orc to retrieve her golden dagger. Beyond a shrubbery, Aldunen stood quietly next to Kizea's second golden dagger, waiting patiently for Kizea to make her way over. It was not any lower Fendowan's place to even touch the golden daggers of the high warriors. She could only point it out and wait for Kizea to retrieve it herself. Kizea trotted over, and with an approving nod of her head, picked up and wiped off her weapon. After the dagger was cleaned, Kizea reached to the base of her tunic and cut away a small loop of cloth before sheathing the dagger. Her intent was to bind her injured fingers. When she had completed her task, Kizea quickly ran towards the cliff.
"Come!" Kizea ordered, "We must find Valnin, for he may be gravely wounded."
"But what of the Stone of Anor?" Aldunen asked with a tone of desperation in her voice.
Kizea shot a menacing gaze at her subordinate. The very look caused Aldunen to fall to her knees and bow her head.
"Forgive me, master!" Aldunen cried, "But the stone! We must find the stone! Over all else!"
Kizea's anger suddenly softened and she walked quietly up to her companion.
"Aldunen, look at me," Kizea said. The girl gazed up.
"The stone is safe for the moment, for an eagle has taken it away from the very clutches of the traitor. I do not know where our search will lead us, but I promise you, the Stone of Anor will guide us to it. This only means we will search a while longer. But Valnin needs us NOW. Let us go to him."
Aldunen nodded slightly, and the three women began the long and dangerous climb down the cliff face. They descended into the mist of the waterfall. Their clothes became heavy-laden with water, and each step became more perilous than the previous. Kizea did not look down purposely, for in her heart she knew the outcome of their search already. In her heart, she was well aware the results of an unprepared fall onto jagged rock. Fifteen feet from the base, she could bear it no more. She held onto a short rim of a ledge, and stretched herself outward. Below her, and some 10 feet further out, lay her brother; face down in the mud, unmoving. Pursing her lips, Kizea let go of the ledge and somersaulted to the ground, her feet sinking deep into the soft embankment.
She quickly made her way over to her half-brother, and knelt beside him. When she gently turned him over, several bloodied puncture wounds became plainly visible in his chest. His arm and left leg were badly broken, yet there was little bleeding. Kizea bent her head low, fighting back tears. She could hear Ishil and Aldunen approach from behind. Kizea outstretched her arm and motioned for them to stop. She could not allow them to see her weeping. Bending over his lifeless head, Kizea whispered.
"My fairest brother. This will not be your end. I will recover the Stone of Anor and with it bring you to life again, as you did me. Rest awhile, my brother, and let me tend to the happy task of exacting vengeance upon she who would betray us both. I'll not rest until Melune is dead. I swear a Fendowan oath to you, I will find a way."
Steeling herself, Kizea rose up and shot a hardened look and the only two loyal Fendowan left to her. Neither Ishil or Aldunen dared speak, but they waited, and watched with some amazement as Kizea took one of her own daggers and brought it to her own face. Expertly, the warrior began to pry loose several pearls and other gems from one side of her decorated mask. Kizea stepped forward to Ishil and held out her hand expectantly.
Ishil glanced sideways at Aldunen, who seemed to offer no explanation of this new odd behavior. She tentatively opened her hand, and Kizea immediately dropped the small treasure into it.
"Valnin is dead," Kizea said, "I charge you both with the task of bearing his body away to distant village in Tuluth. There is a tavern on one side of the village. See the old man, and instruct him to mind to Valnin's body until such a time as I come to retrieve him myself. Give him my offering. Tell him there shall be an additional reward to him for his measure of service. Then you both must make your way back to the compound, on the chance that Melune and her followers will return there with the stone and entrench themselves. I will follow the course of the eagle myself, and if luck holds to us, reclaim the stone as I can."
"But master," Ishil implored, bowing her head. Kizea's hardened gaze fell upon the girl, and she cut short her discourse. With a tiny hand upon Aldunen's shoulder, Kizea continued.
"I am placing Valnin's future upon your shoulders," Kizea said softly. Her eyes drifted over to Ishil, who was hinging upon Kizea's every word with the utmost attention, "This is no small feat I charge you with. If Melune should return to Ryalan, you will be the only ones left to take back what has been stolen. But I MUST pursue the eagle's course. I must assume that the flame of Anor will not soon find its return to Goldorma. And mind you, take great care of Valnin, for once the stone is recovered it may return him to a Fendowan's life. Be cautious with whom you speak, and say only what I have told you. Melune has allied herself with the darker powers of Middle-Earth, or she would not have orcs as her servants. And the dark powers have many spies in their attendance. They must believe we are all dead or dispersed now. Surprise remains our only hope."
The two women knelt to one knee in solemnity before Kizea and at once set to preparing for the arduous task of transporting Valnin's body to the broken city of Tuluth. Neither questioned Kizea's choice, but in her describing the tavern, both knew that Kizea or Valnin must have had some previous associations there. It was well known that when a living being became servant of the Stone of Anor, neither mind nor memories were clearly wiped away. Rather, the stone's protection became the only undying purpose for a Fendowan warrior.
For Kizea, however, who had been resurrected, it was different. Her mind, being cleared of all thoughts in death, arose once again with no knowledge or feelings of her past. Kizea knew that Tuluth was Valnin's former home, before the city was sacked 10 years previous. On rare occasions, he would relate memories to Kizea, who until that moment in time, was not the least interested in such trivialities. Now, she saw it as a sanctuary for her brother's body. And it was her hope there would be some people left in the town who would remember him or her, and take to his keeping. Valnin had once mentioned the innkeeper as being a friend to their family, and a poor, but amiable man. Pressed for time, Kizea felt that he represented Valnin's best chance. She bid her companions goodbye, and bowed to them, and bade them to be vigilant in their grave duty. Both Ishil and Aldunen bowed in turn, and swore to adhere to their task unto their own deaths.
Now, unencumbered with Valnin's care, Kizea's thoughts grew grim and resolute as she made her way to the East. The eagle had flown to the greater Anduin valley with the Stone of Anor in its talons, and Kizea was well aware that Melune would also be searching for the great bird. Kizea was determined to retrieve the stone at all costs before Melune found her way to it. And then, with the stone in her possession, she would find a way to defeat Melune and restore her brother.
Kizea walked the lonesome winding trails through the foothills for two more days, choosing the steepest cliffs and most dangerous ledges in an effort to gain some advantage in distance traveled over Melune and the others. At last, the great width and breath of the Anduin valley lay spread out before her. As the downward drafts of gentle mountain breezes tugged at her tunic, Kizea felt a sense of hopelessness to the entire ordeal. Tracking an animal or a person who left the smallest bit of evidence behind as to their direction was relatively easy. Tracking a bird in flight was entirely another. It was a daunting task. She gazed at the sky around her, seeing nothing. The light of day was waning in the sky, and Kizea sighed at the thought of further pursuit that night. In the end, she decided to climb to the pinnacle of a grand, broad-leafed tree that seemed oddly out of place for its location, to rest for the night. She pulled herself close to the trunk at the tree's uppermost branches and looked out once more over the empty skyline, and she fell into a fitful sleep.
Sometime later, she awoke lazily as a stray Mallorn branch gently touched her face over and over in the night breeze. At first, Kizea thought it was an animal, but upon seeing the branch, she smiled and gently moved it to one side. It was as though the tree was chiding her for using it as a bed for the night. But when she extended the tiny branch out, her eye caught sight of a faint below some twenty feet below. Almost at once, she smelled the smoke of a fire and the faint whisperings of a chant. Her blood ran cold as she knew it could only be Melune. Shifting herself slightly to the left for a better view, Kizea sat rigidly watching her. Kizea thought to drop out of the tree and fight, but to what end? Kizea knew there were others in Melune's company, and an unforeseen hesitation once again held her back. Better to find out what Melune was doing. Almost as these thoughts entered Kizea's mind, Melune suddenly stood up, looking wildly around. Kizea froze.
An orc suddenly lumbered into the camp from the darkness, and Melune immediately berated it for disturbing her. The orc, agitated and regretful, retreated back into the nothingness. Returning to her seat, Melune began repeating her chant once more. The campfire took on a strange blackening hue from its center, and the growing flames licked at the lowest branches of the tree. Kizea frowned as she realized that Melune was conjuring something, although she did not know what. Kizea never actually saw anything materialize, but what she could not see, Melune did. And for the first time in her life, Kizea saw Melune bow on her hands and knees as a servant would before its master. Then the voice spoke, and it sent a chill so violent through Kizea that she felt she might fall out of the tree. It was far more menacing and evil than any voice Kizea had ever heard, and in her heart she knew that Melune had laid herself subject to the most evil being in Middle-Earth, Sauron.
"Why have you not procured my prize?" the voice demanded.
"The eagle Gwaihir has taken it," Melune replied in a low, angry voice, "I call upon you to help me secure it once again."
"Help you? You have failed your task, and you request my favor? The power of Anor has made you weak, underling! Perhaps the other of the Fendowan may serve me better. What of them?"
"Those that did not join me are dead," she replied, "I am your strongest, mighty Sauron. And I WILL deliver the Stone of Anor into your hands. I only need to know where it has gone." The voice remained silent for a moment.
"Seek out the wizard," the voice hissed again, "Go to the East and into dense Mirkwood and find the wizard in the elf king's keep. The eagle brings the Anor stone to him. The stone must be recovered before the eagle sets it into the wizard's hand!"
"As you command, Master. But when I have reclaimed it, and brought forth your legions to Middle-Earth, where then shall I stand? What will be your reward to me?" A great shaking of the ground began, and the fire roared high into the night sky. Kizea's grip on the tree trunk tightened slightly.
"All I ask master is to serve you!" Melune shouted quickly, "But for my unending obedience. For my delivering Middle-Earth itself into your grip and making all its inhabitants your slaves, what for me? I am well aware that the king of the world has many generals. Who will lead your armies to cover Middle-Earth?"
The fire seemed to wane, and it grew small to its previous height, and Kizea fought to prevent herself from shaking. Another long moment passed, and then the voice returned, calmer, almost amused at Melune's audacity.
"Retrieve the Stone of Anor and resurrect all my armies since the cursed last alliance. When all I have commanded is done, the mightiest of all these armies shall be yours."
Melune sat speechless for a moment, attempting to stifle the giddiness of Sauron's offer. Then she grew grim once more and seemed to suddenly comprehend another difficulty.
"Rakal. The vilest of your generals, second only to me. When the great Rakal is returned into being with the other hundreds of thousands, surely he will object to my taking his vast armies for my own. And when I have killed him once again, master, I will suffer no revenge from you?"
"The Stone of Anor will be mine. Bring back the stone to me, and you shall be my general in Middle-Earth," the voice croaked, "Fail me again and I will leave your punishment to Rakal's choosing."
Melune inexplicably shuddered, then bowed low once more. The fire instantaneously burned a bright orange and all the forest seemed normal once more. Melune stood up, quiet for some minutes. Then she cried out to the darkness. Almost at once, 5 orcs from all angles began to penetrate the firelight. Sasgal and Tragora stepped up also, bending upon one knee before their master. Kizea could not see the others, but she knew they were there, waiting beyond the reach of the firelight.
"We leave at once for Mirkwood!" Melune barked. A great flurry of activity proceeded and Kizea remained frozen atop the tree branch, barely breathing. She had not perceived in her darkest thoughts that Melune would ever be subservient to another, much less Sauron. Until this moment, Kizea's unending mission was only to protect the Stone of Anor against lowly mortals and would-be thieves. For the mythical gem to fall into the hands of the most evil force in all existence would be more disastrous than anyone's comprehension.
Unwilling to risk Melune's sudden return to that area, Kizea remained rigid in the tree long after Melune and the others left. Finally, when the dawn was just beginning to rise over the east, she decided to descend the tree and continue the journey. A chill sped through her as she climbed slowly down the tree. As Kizea stood silently before the final remaining embers of Melune's fire, the entire gravity of the situation unraveled before her. Kizea began her trek once again, this time with a darker purpose and urgency, and she began to run. Onto the open plain of the Anduin Kizea sprinted, and she set her course to the East, where the mysterious woodlands of Mirkwood lay, the dense, dank forest of the Northern elves, home to King Thranduil.
"Mirkwood is no place for men folk," Valnin had once told her, "The elves, fair in visage, are hard in temperament. They brook no trespasser to their territories, and are exceedingly hard to find at all, but when they need the help of men to benefit their own ends. That we should never venture into that gloomy woodland is a blessing in disguise for us. I would much rather face the thousand stair than steer into that lonely wasteland."
"Then it is to Mirkwood I must go," she thought as she ran, "For Valnin, and the stone, I must find the elves. They will help me. They must."
Over the course of the next few days, she rested little, and ate sparingly from the berries and roots that the earth offered up to her in her passing. Kizea steered clear of every village, but after several days afoot, her body began to tire and her fierce will began to wane. She needed another way.
On a bright, clear morning, a peasant farmer made his way to his stable. Scratching his chest, he stumbled to begin a day of work after a long night of drinking. Upon opening the door, though, he was shocked to find his mare missing. He cursed loudly, still half intoxicated and ran outside, thinking a prank had been played upon him, but his mare was nowhere to be seen. Muttering of his misfortune, the farmer began to close the barn door when he stopped short and blinked. In the sunshine he imagined he saw a gleam from the corner of his eye, near his horse's stall. He stepped closer. Suddenly he realized the glimmer was two shimmering emeralds and a pearl, placed gently upon an upturned bucket, refracting a ray of sunlight. It was a fortune for the man; enough recompense to buy several horses and another week's worth of ale from the tavern, or perhaps even more. The man looked around the area one last time before roughly shoving the stones in his pocket, and with a smile he left the barn, walking fast towards the village marketplace.
At that same moment, far out on the plain, Kizea raced towards Mirkwood on her new mount. The mare joyously ran, being unharnessed and unbridled for the first time in years. They proceeded northeast for a time, stopping only for short rests. The horse would happily graze on high grass and Kizea would pick berries and root vegetables. Though their time together was short, Kizea liked the horse, and she rather fancied the horse to liking her. The Fendowan's new companion followed her about as a shadow would, never wandering far from Kizea's friendly hand. But Kizea knew the partnership would not be long-lived. Even as they came upon the borders of Mirkwood forest, the mare reared and refused to carry Kizea any further.
Finally dismounting, Kizea gazed at her companion, patting the horse's soft muzzle. She dipped her hand into her pocket one final time and fed the animal her last two wild carrots.
"I do not hold this against you," Kizea said tenderly, "I would not attempt it either, if I was not compelled. But my business takes me into the wood, while yours does not. You are a free animal now. Go to the plains and graze wild from now on. Good luck my friend."
Kizea turned and began to walk to the outer rim of the forest, only to be stopped short. The mare had grabbed her tunic in her teeth, and was pulling the girl backwards. Almost stumbling back, Kizea laughed and petted her once again, and reassured the horse that she would be quite all right. Then she proceeded into the wood, more concerned now simply because of the mare's behavior. But she saw nothing to give her any alarm. All seemed quiet and the dense forest even reminded her of the Ryalan woodlands on the Fendowan mountain. The woods were more to Kizea's liking. The cool, musty smells within the elven woodlands were a stark contrast to the hot, dry plains in the Anduin. Several days passed by as Kizea pushed northward, and still she found no sign of the elves or the eagle.
One night, as she sat next to a large tree, huddled tightly against the chill of the night, Kizea heard a slight crack of a branch. She stood up at once, but heard nothing more. However, she decided to investigate the noise anyway. Pulling herself up the nearest tree, Kizea scanned the area beneath her. If the elves were nearby, she did not wish to disturb them straightaway. She wanted to observe the elusive Mirkwood elves first and determine what she was dealing with. What Kizea found was quite different.
Peering through a canopy of branches, Kizea looked to the forest floor, but could perceive no movement. Another crack of a branch directly above her made her jerk back. Almost at once, she was covered with a sticky, sinewy silk. Kizea cried out in surprise, her arms pinned hopelessly against her sides. Kizea immediately began to work her arms to free them. From somewhere above in Kizea's tree, a grotesque, black spider, pulled upwards on her web with immense, powerful legs. Kizea's arms instantly clung tighter to her side. She could now barely move at all. Horrified, the girl jumped off the branch in an attempt to escape, only to be upheld by the long strand of silk that secured her.
"A delicious meal!" Kizea heard a voice say gleefully.
"I wonder if there are others?" said another.
"Save some for me!" said still another.
Dangling upside down, Kizea was slowly hauled upward once more to the tree branch towards the spider. Fighting and wrenching her wrist, Kizea finally managed to pull free one of her daggers. At the very moment when the spider held Kizea up with its two front legs, readying for a killing bite, Kizea cut through the silk webbing that bound her and she drove her dagger directly into the creature's gaping jaws. Screeching in pain, the giant spider lowered its legs, but still maintained its iron grip on the girl. Undaunted, it began to raise Kizea up again, for another attack.
"You've not had enough of your meal then?" Kizea cried out angrily. Slicing hard across and then downward, she cut clean through one of the legs that held her, and she dropped to the forest floor. Almost as soon as Kizea landed to the ground, the spider, now headless, came crashing through the branches. It was dead.
With her other arm freed at last, Kizea took a defensive stance against the remaining spiders who hissed and wailed in the trees. Raising one dagger to the sky, and the other in front of her, she issued a challenge to those that remained.
"I am Kizea! Master and leader of the Fendowan! I wield the flame of Anor! Advance to me and die!"
And as she spoke these words, a low hum began to emanate from her golden mask, and a bright light poured forth in all directions, illuminating the forest. Immediately more screeches resounded throughout the treetops.
"A Fendowan! HERE!" one voice screamed.
"Away! Away!" cried out another.
The branches of the treetops bent downwards as Kizea's assailants scurried away. She stood for some moments, unmoving. Another sound, barely perceptible to her ears came from behind. Kizea whirled around and crossed her daggers in front of her. Two elven arrows instantly ricocheted off of the knives into the darkness.
Kizea could feel the presence of the elves all around her, and estimated there to be 6 or more. She could also feel their arrows trained upon her. And for some unknown reason, Kizea began to feel more like a trapped animal than a distinguished visitor. She glanced quickly upward to the treetops where only moments earlier she had nearly become a spider's dinner. The nearest tree limb was too far away, and an immediate escape seemed futile.
"Wait!" she cried, breathing hard, "I have come to see your king!"
Tentatively, Kizea slowly lowered her daggers, and stood silent. From the darkness emerged several tall, glowing beings. All had arrows at the ready in their bows, menacingly pointed at Kizea from all angles. Two others, tall and grim came and stood before her. Kizea gazed with wonder at them. To her, Valnin had been totally correct. Hard and unmoving as they seemed in personality, their beauty and poise seemed unmatched. Her eyes settled on a silent one to her right. His bright blue eyes seemed to look through her. No fairer being had Kizea ever seen.
"And why would a Fendowan journey all this way to visit our king?" asked one distrustfully.
"My business is with only the king," Kizea replied with as much contempt, "Take me to him and I vow no harm shall come to you!"
The elves glanced at each other, their eyes sparkling with slight amusement. The grim elf only stared at Kizea with animosity.
"You are ambitious to believe the king shall grant an audience to one who shows such hatred for those creatures alive in his lands! I ask you again, what is your business here?"
The elf glanced sideways at the dead spider lying on the cold ground. Kizea bristled.
"If you believe me to be a Fendowan, then you know that I have journeyed from afar with a grave purpose! For once we are allied to the Stone of Anor, we may never leave the mountain of Goldorma. But such a bitter situation has arisen, that I am compelled to leave my homeland. I have most urgent business involving the wizard who is visiting your king! And should I fail in my task, all of Middle-Earth will fall under a dark veil of evil. That is as much as I can tell you."
With lightening speed, Kizea twirled her daggers in her hands and sheathed them. The two tallish elves, stepped backwards and whispered to themselves as she waited. Tense moments dragged by for the girl, and she nervously looked around in search of more spiders. Finally, the two elves came forward once more and stood before her.
"We have no quarrel with a being of the light," one elf said, "But you will not pass further into our realm. You come here not invited. We will take you to the borders of Mirkwood and there shall you leave our territory."
Two more elves came up to her and grabbed her arms, each slipping a length of thin rope about her wrists and tying them tightly around her back. Then, shoved from behind, they began to walk forward. Desperate, Kizea turned suddenly, broke away and ran up to the elf with the intense blue eyes. Immediately her captors were upon her, attempting to drag her away. Realizing that she was losing perhaps her only chance to talk to the elven king, Kizea struggled hard, until the blue-eyed elf raised his hand and all movement stopped. Kizea was let go, and she angrily jerked her body away from one elf who kept a steady hand on her shoulder.
She gazed into the elf's puzzled eyes and spoke with such a gentle, sweet voice that it shocked the him. He stared down at the girl, not able to look away. Kizea's voice had a sort of low, steady resonance to it that seemed to sweep him up within its grasp and hold him there.
"You must listen to me. This is most important," Kizea pleaded quietly, "and we've not much time. I beg of you!"
"Humph!" the other elf said sarcastically, "She lies! A Fendowan who would beg the aid of the elves! Let us turn her to the border Legolas, and be done with her! She has caused enough mischief already, and there will be much explaining to do as it is!"
Humiliated, Kizea felt the elf raised a valid point. No Fendowan would ever be subject to an outsider, but she was desperate. To be turned away now would result in catastrophe for the world. The elf suddenly raised his hand again, and his companion fell silent.
"No," he said still gazing at her, "She does not lie. I can see it in her eyes. Will you be blindfolded? For no stranger may enter the elven kingdom and see of its whereabouts."
"Is it not enough that I am bound and debased before you?" she answered angrily. But the elf, Legolas said nothing and only stood silently before her, waiting expectantly. Kizea sighed.
"Very well," she said in a low voice, "For the world is changing too quickly, and what once was can no longer be. The Fendowan must change as well if the world is to survive. I cannot tarry here, bartering for a Fendowan's pride. The world is in much peril, and indeed it may be too late already. I will allow you to blindfold me, but only you! No one else is to touch me!"
An elf pulled a long swath of elven linen from a pack and handed it to Legolas. He did not smile or reassure Kizea as he tightened it over her mask. But when he took her arm, his touch seemed gentler than the others, and the group proceeded into the woods, this time in a new direction.