The party arrived at the trail of Asha, which cut a north/south path directly through the Mirkwood forest. They proceeded southward, following the tributary of the Forest River, until it crossed the Old Forest Road (Men-i-Naugrim) at the bridge of Coda. It was high summertime, and the days were hot and humid. The dense forest provided some relief from the sweltering sun, but the journey was slowed by frequent stops to the river. The nights, in contrast, were cold. Kizea huddled near the campfire, while the elves aimlessly walked about on patrol of the area. On several occasions, Kerrinais would see another elven patrol and would spur his horse off in their direction, and would not return to the group for several hours. This did not seem to annoy either of the other elves, his leaving them to look after the Fendowan. Kerrinais, in fact, often looked for excuses to leave Kizea's company. He wasn't in the habit of traveling with non-elves, and he blamed Kizea for his being forced on this march, to a place where it seemed no one wished to go. Tensions were often high among themselves, and Kerrinais and Tenmelion did little to hide their animosity. Kizea watched Kerrinais ride away to another group, rather wondering why she had not seen so many patrols when she had first entered the wood. After all, they had seen her, and the Fendowan were supposed to be invisible to all creatures unless they wished to be seen.
On the eighth day, they came to the edge of the forest, where the trail met the wide plains and foothills of the Anduin. But it was late, and Kerrinais, being the highest-ranking border patrol elf, decided that it would be better to make camp within the forest one last night before they ventured into the open.
As usual, Kerrinais rode off into the night. Kizea could barely discern a faint firelight, and assumed this was yet another patrol that he was off to inspect. Tenmelion and Legolas set off to the edge of the river to fill their water skins for the hot days ahead. And Kizea wandered into the forest, unafraid of spiders or other creatures that she might encounter. Indeed, the elves themselves were more at ease and relaxed, and she presumed that most of the forest dangers were over at the borderlands.
Legolas stepped over massive roots and felled tree trunks as he made his way back to the camp. He carried with him 6 heavy water skins, filled to the brim. Tenmelion had gone off into the forest in search of additional firewood. For the most part, Legolas's attentions were bent on the ground in front of him. The area nearest to the river was fraught with ravines and other obstacles. It would not do to divert one's attentions far away, only to trip and have to refill the skins again. But as he drew nearer to the camp, he suddenly looked up and stopped short. In the dim of the firelight, a few yards from the center of the camp was Kizea, handing out morsels to each horse. She whispered a subdued hum, which struck Legolas as so musical and soothing that he was almost afraid to disturb her. He took ten steps further, and Kizea stopped abruptly, turning her head in his direction. His presence thus discovered, he walked cautiously forward and gently set down the water skins by the campfire. He continued to the edge of the camp where Kizea petted his own horse, Neonean.
"Look what I found in the deep of the forest while you lingered at the river," she said happily, holding out her hand, "Apples!"
Legolas stared at her outstretched hand, but did not accept the luscious red fruit.
"What are you doing?" he asked slowly.
"Merely providing our animals with a morsel to eat," she replied. Petting Legolas's horse on her muzzle, Kizea said,
"Your horse, what is her name?"
"Neonean," Legolas replied softly, still staring at her. Normally, his horse did not allow strangers near her. Neonean was somewhat selective in her company, yet she allowed Kizea to pet her and pat her face as though Kizea herself was an elf. This greatly puzzled Legolas. Only one other was ever able to accomplish such a feat with this horse.
"Neonean," Kizea whispered. Upon hearing her name, the horse drew her head high into the air, and whinnied.
"Surely this is the most beautiful animal I have ever seen."
Almost against his will, his mind drifted to back to the stables at Rivendell, where years before, his beloved Nevariel, the Queen Lisaine, had spoken the same exact words about this very horse. In the ten years since her death, Legolas had the curse of time to remember every word she had ever spoken to him. It was the only thing he had left of her.
"And," Legolas whispered with some effort, "Can YOU speak to my horse? Can you understand her reply?"
Kizea laughed. It was the first time Legolas had seen a lighter side of Kizea, and he gazed at her with much wonderment, but it wasn't merely her discourse. For the first time, Legolas began to see in Kizea reflections of Lisaine, and in a way his feelings frightened him. He had vowed long ago to have no other for himself, and although he might admire a beautiful elf- maiden's seductive dancing or singing, he could never be wholly rid of his feelings for the queen of the combined cities of the Anduin. The mere thought of his admiring a Fendowan warrior who was otherwise so harsh, so arrogant, so unrefined, was almost repulsive to him. He quickly squashed such thoughts from his mind. But Kizea's laughter and musical voice was at that instance so intoxicating to Legolas, and he found himself smiling at her.
"Surely you are teasing me!" Kizea replied, "No, my good elf, I cannot speak to animals. Undoubtedly another Fendowan rumor you heard in your long years! It is said that only the elves may talk to a horse and understand its discourse, because only the elves are capable of appreciating it! Not like mortal man who would work such a fine beast to death in a field or the dwarves who care not for any animals at all. Or did you not know this already? Ah! But imagine such a gift as to speak to a horse!"
Neonean nudged Kizea expectantly with her massive head, and the girl staggered back a step. Still, she laughed. Legolas was virtually speechless, he could only stand and watch the ease in which Kizea handled the elven mares. It was truly a sight to behold, and completely unexpected.
"Mind your manners my fine friend, or I'll not give you my last apple!"
Stroking the horse, Kizea finally selected Neonean one final fruit for her. She then picked up two more from a small sack on the ground, and fed the other horses in the camp each an apple. Once more she turned to Legolas.
"Come back to the fire, Legolas. For I grow cold in the night air, and I've picked enough apples for all of us to enjoy."
With that, Kizea bent down to the ground and gathered up her small bundle on the ground. She walked past Legolas without concern, leaving him staring into the darkness of the forest; unaware of the stinging memories she had unwittingly awakened within him. But his demeanor did not go all ways around unnoticed, for almost as soon as Kizea walked away, Kerrinais came walking his own mount back into the clearing. He glanced over in Kizea's direction, and then at Legolas, and knew his friend was troubled.
"What is it? What was she doing just now?" Kerrinais asked half-interested as he pulled the saddle from Moaanen's back. Legolas started back to the camp.
"Talking to the horses!" he replied, staring in Kizea's direction. The two friends walked back to the camp.
Mid-morning on the following day, the troop sat astride their horses gazing out over the endless plain of the Anduin valley. Much discussion was given as to which way they should ride. In the years following Rakal's orc invasion of the valley, small settlements of men began to spring up where the proud cities once stood. Slowly, it appeared, the race of men was beginning to re-settle in some areas. They were but a seedling race in the earth, trying to grasp hold of the land to grow and prosper. The Anduin River, which cut through the valley, proved to be a most desirable route for many. To the West lay the formidable Misty Mountains, cold and unforgiving. To the East lay the thick forest of Mirkwood, with its evil creatures roaming unchecked and untamed. The only beings able to cohabit with these nameless beasts of the forest were the elves of King Thranduil's realm.
As Kizea had learned, any being wandering unwelcome into the forest would quickly fall prey to the wandering creatures of the dark. And so the Anduin proved to be the easiest route for travel, with abundant water and fish. In the years to come, the race of men would find the lands along the valley harder and harder to keep. A folly it was that after Rakal's army had swept through some 10 years earlier, the surviving men, few that there were, could not agree on the rightful successor to the combined kingdoms throne. Such a prize as it was, that they fought frequently among themselves, and took to living in their smallish towns and settlements. Having no armies but merely small militias to defend the fledgling cities would eventually prove to be their undoing. Sauron's orc armies, ever ready to take advantage of a weakness, would in time seize the opportunity and vanquish the race of man from the Anduin valley entirely. But for now, men still maintained a foothold there, and to some it appeared as though the many villages that sprung up would lead to new prosperous kingdoms, and the mood among the people was, for the most part, encouraged.
Legolas and Kerrinais each voted to opt for a more northerly route that would pass through the old kingdoms of Irwindal and Euphratas. The group would then head west over the High Pass to Imladris. Neither Kerrinais nor Legolas bore any desire to return to the elven city, but it was now more a matter of practicality. Such a journey would keep them in close connection to water and supplies. Also, there was more than a good chance that they would find Gandalf within the city of Rivendell, where he often stayed when traveling in that part of the country. Legolas could only guess that in Isodor, Gandalf would not linger very long, and they needed to find him with some expediency. Yes, King Thranduil had sent them forth to Isodor, but he had also cautioned his son the night before their journey began.
"Mind you Legolas, keep to the well-used trails over the mountains. Gwaihir the Windlord may well pass only briefly over the elf haven of Isodor and choose to find Mithrandir in Imladris instead. It is my feeling that Gwaihir will not leave his guard down in the unprotected woodlands of Tamlot. Hasten then to Lord Elrond and meet Gandalf the Gray there. It may well be that all will be finally resolved in Rivendell."
But Kizea was resolute about a more southerly path. Her idea was to lead the band past the broken city of Tuluth, which nearly sat on the river Gladden as it intersected the Anduin. And once leaving there, the journey would take them through the Pass of Balsor in the south of the Misty Mountains. This remained a more comfortable road for her, and she felt more able to traverse a known landscape. And so once again, the group set to more argument than discussion as to which was the proper way to go. Supplies and water were not quite as abundant, they argued, and the road would lead them first to Isodor before Rivendell, and none of the elves had known Gandalf to tarry in the harsher elven lands. But Kizea would not give way. The elves vehemently argued of the possibility that the group could miss the wizard by traveling to Tamlot first. Finally, Kizea told them,
"You must trust to my judgment in this. There is an excellent chance that Melune uses this same path, for she too will opt for the quickest way now, not the most comfortable. I need not tell you the consequences if she is to find Gwaihir and the stone first, and it is to Isodor where King Thranduil sent Gwaihir. I am sure that Melune already knows of our plan, whether you will believe me or no. I must be sure that Gandalf does not wander aimlessly in Isodor, only then might we go to Rivendell. That is the route that Melune and the others will pursue, and that is where I must go as well."
At last, upon Kizea's threat of leaving the group to go her own way, Legolas and the others relented, and they rode off onto the plain in the searing heat of the midday sun. It was several days journey from the border to reach the river. Until that time, they would need to conserve water and rations as they might, but this was of little concern. The elves normally ate sparsely, usually taking only an evening meal of lembas and a few handfuls of berries. None ever saw Kizea eat. She would steal away into the night, beyond where the shadows overtook the light of the campfire. Kerrinais often admonished her for this practice, but she paid little attention to his words, fearing neither orc nor elf nor any other creature. It was not entirely arrogance that led Kizea to believe she had witnessed firsthand the worst that the world had to offer.
The group eventually came to the outskirts of a town that had once been the vast kingdom of Tuluth. It did not escape Kizea's notice that as the party grew closer, Legolas and Kerrinais moods grew more somber. Instead of interest of their surroundings, and turning their heads in ever-watchful lookout, both elves fell silent as they passed through the foothills. Their heads lowered, and their eyes staring downward. Kizea knew this had once been a battleground when Rakal's army had swept through, destroying the city. But she had no knowledge of the elves ever being involved in the fray, and in fact, did not believe they were. She attributed their silence to the persistent need of water. All their skins were now dry, their throats parched. The flat landscape offered few trees for shelter, only the endless grassy plains as they plodded along. Even Kizea began to feel the heat. Trapped within her golden mask, she often felt faint, as the sweat poured over her cheeks. The heat within was beginning to drain her. Yet, the thought of simply removing her face covering never entered her mind. In the forest of Ryalan, the Fendowan were seldom without tree or stream where they could not cool off or rest as needed. This was different. In the searing, midday sun, Kizea felt stretched to her limits, and she knew the entire group needed water and soon.
In an effort to lighten the mood, Kizea briefly thought to sing a Fendowan chant in honor of the stone. But just as her mouth began to open, she looked over and cut herself short. Tenmelion was whispering an elven prayer, his arm placed across his chest, his eyes closed in reverence. Kizea knew that some elven kindred of theirs had fallen here, and probably to Rakal the Deceiver. Rakal was thus far the only orc captain bold enough to attempt and succeed, albeit briefly, for domination of the Anduin valley. The group went on in silence.
At last they arrived at the small village, and Kizea was well pleased. Even the elves seemed to improve, gazing at the reconstructed buildings with some fascination. The townsfolk stopped from their business and stared as the group went by. A marvelous sight, a Fendowan AND three elves! But none dared speak to them. As Tenmelion gazed back at the people, several quickly adverted their eyes so as not to have their minds stolen away. Tenmelion smiled slightly.
"Come my good elves," Kizea said finally, "The road has been long, and ahead we can rest and get water for the horses. I know of an innkeeper who will give me information as to whether anyone has seen Melune pass by. We can stop there to refresh ourselves."
Kerrinais looked sideways at Legolas. No elf would normally set foot in such a township, much less corner themselves within a tavern full of men. The race of men were dirty and unkempt, virtually devoid of manners OR cleanliness. Such a thought was most distasteful to Kerrinais, but if the others would not speak against it for the moment, neither would he. Almost as soon as Kizea finished her sentence, the group rode by a heavily laden cart. A dirt-besotted man with a slightly graying beard was fiercely whipping a horse, prodding it on. Clearly, the horse was having trouble making the small incline of the road. A small boy, dressed in rags, stood meekly behind the cart, waiting for it to move. With each crack of the whip on the horse's flank, the horse whinnied and struggled on. The beast was thin and ill fed, his ribs protruded on his side. His coat was muddy and dull. Kerrinais and Tenmelion went by with hardly a second glance. But Kizea pulled gently on her reins and her own mount halted. Legolas put his hand on Neonean's neck, and she too came to a stop in the road. The elf turned back to ask Kizea why she had stopped, but she was already dismounted. He sat back and looked on with some interest, wondering what Kizea was doing. Walking up to the man, she grabbed the whip from his hand as he raised it high in the air, while the boy peered fearfully around the back of the cart. The man looked at her up and down for a second, incredulous.
"What do YOU want?" he demanded angrily.
Kizea said nothing, but made a hard fist and with one blinding forward punch, landed it squarely on the man's chin. He fell to the ground without a sound. The boy gasped, then giggled. Legolas watched as Kizea walked up to the horse and stroke its face before she pulled out a lembas loaf that she had hidden in her pocket. Legolas lifted his eyebrows. He did not know she had secreted away her elven food. He wondered if perhaps the rumors were not true after all, that the Fendowan neither ate nor drank. She fed it to the animal without hesitation, and the beast immediately raised its head as though new life had come to him. Then she pulled her golden dagger from her waist and cut some of the ropes that held sacks of hay and heavy goods. Pulling several heaping load to the ground, she beckoned the boy to step forward. Shyly, he walked up to her. One of his eyes was blackened.
"This horse is too overloaded to make the hill," she said, "Where are you going?"
"To the market, just over there," he said meekly. The boy pointed. Kizea lifted her head and gazed in the direction, some few hundred yards beyond the hill where the open market was bustling with townsfolk.
"Take the cart to the market, unload it and return for the rest, then get this horse something to eat. He is starving."
She reached into her pocket and placed something in the boy's tiny hand and continued to whisper to him. The boy nodded, his eyes widened with admiration. Then Kizea reached upwards to touch the boy's bruised cheek.
"Fear not," she said, "I vow he will abuse you no longer. Now go."
The lad sprinted to grab the horse's reins and he began to pull, a wide grin upon his face. Renewed by the lembas, and with a lightened load, the horse trotted forward with little trouble. When they were a hundred yards away, the man began to regain consciousness, only to find the tip of Kizea's dagger under his chin. He sat bolt upright, clawing behind himself to get away. Overwhelmed with sudden terror, the man looked to the left and right to see the supplies that had been left on the ground. Then he stared at the whip lying on the ground next to him, almost within his grasp. His fingers edged slowly forward, but Kizea instantly placed her boot upon the man's hand and crushed it into the ground. The man cried out, attempting to pull back his arm, but it was pinned solidly under her foot. He gazed up to Kizea's dented mask, and a new wave of horror swept over him. He had seen the others of her kind come before her. The townsfolk hurriedly bolting their doors behind them in fear, as the other Fendowan walked unchallenged through the streets in the town. Their very presence frightened away everyone, and rumors spread quickly of an impending battle that would return Rakal into their midst. The Fendowan, turned loose in Middle-Earth at last, commanded the dead. Thinking Kizea a demon, the man was too terrified to move any further.
"Insolent peasant!" Kizea cried, pressing the dagger harder against his throat, "You DARE to think you might challenge ME?"
The man settled back, no longer caring of his hand, or the whip.
"The boy will return shortly with the cart," she growled, "Then you may finish bringing your wares to the market, such as they are."
The man could not utter a sound, but only nodded. Kizea leaned in, lifting her boot from the man's hand. Her dagger pointed directly at the terrified man's eye. Her demeanor turned suddenly from annoyed to darkly somber, and Kizea's eyes focused into a colder, angrier expression at the man.
"You know who I am," she said in a low, menacing voice. The man nodded and began to shake.
"I will return to this place. I swear a Fendowan oath to this" she whispered, "If ever I find you beating that boy or that horse again, there will be no haven far enough to hide you from ME. And when I am done with you, I shall hand you over to the Mirkwood elves, who hold no love for men!"
The man gasped, jerking his now bloodied hand free, he scrambled backwards. He looked upwards to Legolas, who towered above him as he sat astride Neonean. Legolas grinned at the man, his eyes sparkled with an eerie translucent hue, and the man swallowed hard. The color drained away from his face as his eyes darted back at Kizea.
"Do we understand one another?" Kizea whispered again. The man could only nod.
"See that you do," Kizea whispered, "I give NO quarter to a deceiver, and there is no justice equaled to a Fendowan's!"
Then making another hard fist, she landed it squarely on the man's chin again, and once again he fell backwards, unconscious. Kizea stood up and brushed her tunic off with her tiny fingers. As she walked back to her horse, she replaced her dagger in her waist belt, she rubbed her knuckle with her other hand. It stung and was beginning to swell again. Trying to conceal the pain, she gathered the reins of her horse, preparing to mount. However she was careful to grab the saddle horn with but three fingers and this did not escape Legolas's notice.
Kizea was hardly aware of Legolas's amusement at the entire scene, but he clearly approved. To the elves, the race of men was but a fleeting entity in Middle-Earth. So few of them were extraordinary enough as to deserve an elf's attention, much less their time. Although the battle of Isodor had somewhat improved Legolas's opinion of them, (the few times that Legolas had come into contact with men was on the battlefield), he quickly digressed when confronted with the likes of this man. Filthy, cold hearted, and he clearly had no inclination to properly care for lesser beasts or children in his care. Lightly jumping to the horse's back, Kizea kicked her heels slightly and the horse walked on past Legolas. He only watched her go by quietly. For Kizea to bring a mortal prisoner to the elves for punishment was a ludicrous idea, the elves simply would not keep such a man imprisoned for such little reason within their realm. But then, he felt Kizea knew this too, and only said this to the man to frighten him all the more. For her part, Legolas had no doubts that she would keep her promise and return to check on the boy and the horse. He also had no doubts as to her willingness to dispatch the man if he did not hold up his end of the bargain. But Legolas remained somewhat confused by her behavior. It would have been easier just to kill the man outright, yet she had not done so. Within her, Legolas saw the capacity for mercy. In elven lore, this was a trait for which the Fendowan were NOT renowned. Kizea was slowly changing, and Legolas wondered if Kizea could feel it too.
With the stranger, Kizea's threat had the intended effect. Legolas could see it in his eyes. The horror and fear he experienced was beyond anything he had ever known, and the elf knew that he would keep his word, if only to avoid seeing the Kizea again. Apparently he knew something of Fendowan oaths, and this also made Legolas curious. Where would such a mere mortal, obviously no king or person of importance, hear or know of Kizea? Neonean suddenly began to trot forwards, and the gray mare slowed down beside Kizea. The elf, still grinning, said nothing to her, but only looked beyond the crest of the hill where Tenmelion and Kerrinais patiently waited. For some moments, Kizea remained silent, and then she glanced sideways at Legolas's amused face.
"I do not abide mistreatment of the weak," she told him with a frown. Legolas did not reply.
Kicking her horse again, the girl trotted away down the road. Legolas watched her ride away from him, his lips still slightly curved upwards.
"So it would seem," he said to himself, "So it would seem."
He spoke quietly to Neonean and she trotted obediently towards the others.
On the outskirts of the village stood a small tavern, The Winter Green's Gate. It was not so big a building, but there was a well to one side of it, the only one in the town. It was now nearing late afternoon, and the group had neither eaten nor had water for the entire day. Legolas surmised that Kizea had given the entire group's last loaf of lembas to the horse drawing the cart in the market. Kizea dismounted and pulled her horse to the well. She looked down into the well and sniffed at the air. Deciding the water was acceptable, Kizea lowered a worn, cracked wooden bucket into the well, and cranked the wooden arm until the bucket emerged from the depths, filled with cold, icy water. Her horse's eyes grew wide as she set the bucket down on the ground, and he gladly drank. By now, Legolas, Kerrinais and Tenmelion were also bringing their horses to the well.
One or two men walking into the tavern slowed and watched the group distrustfully as they went by, but upon seeing Kizea's golden mask, lowered their gaze and hurried through the door. Finally, Kizea looked up at the tavern door and sighed slightly.
"I must go in. You might stay here and tend to the horses if you will. The water from this well has always been fresh and cold."
"You've been here before," Tenmelion said to her. It was one of the first times the elf had spoken to Kizea without a tone of sarcasm in his voice. Kizea looked beyond the elf towards the direction of the river, seemingly not hearing him. Turning about, the Fendowan began to walk away towards the tavern door.
Legolas motioned for Kerrinais and Tenmelion to go with her.
"I shall tend the horses. Be sure to watch her," he told them. Dipping the wooden bucket back into the depths of the well, the horses huddled around the elf as he brought another heaping bucket of icy water to the surface. The other elves nodded and followed in her footsteps. But when Kizea realized they were following her, she turned around in an attempt to dissuade them. Kizea had not intended to enter the tavern with 2 elves on her heels.
"You need not look after me," she said exasperated, "Must you hover over my every footstep?"
Kerrinais, who had always been an elf of good negotiation for the king, managed around the possible confrontation with Kizea.
"Perhaps we can find some food and drink for ourselves," he told her. Kizea gazed at him, contemplating his words as though she were trying to make out the truth to his statement. Valnin had often told Kizea that the elves, above most other things, were incapable of lying. And in return, any other being was incapable of lying to the elves, for they merely had to look into one's eyes to learn the teller's truth or deception. Fendowans were of like mind then to the elves. They told naught but the truth, and as a Fendowan, would never break an oath but on pain of death.
Kerrinais and Tenmelion stood before her expectantly. Finally, Kizea turned on her heel and continued to the tavern door.
"Come then," she said, "Our road has been overlong, and will be longer before we are done. We will all find refreshment inside. I would not have you collapsing in this heat and have to return you to Mirkwood on my back."
Had Kizea spoken such words to Kerrinais earlier, he would have been insulted by her insolence. Now he merely grinned slightly at her continued audacity, as he and Tenmelion followed her inside. As they walked through the door, Kizea's presence was not immediately noticed. But when the elves came inside, all manner of banter and eating halted. Looking behind her, Kizea noticed that her companions only stood just inside the doorway, and would venture no further into the room. The whole of the tavern was dimmed somewhat. As the shadows began to creep across the floor, the elves emanated their own light. They glowed, as would a lantern, bringing a sun like hue into the room. The two had left their longbows with their horses, but they were nevertheless armed with their elven long knives strapped to their backs in case of trouble. Kizea looked at them for only a second, but in that brief moment, she admired their long, fine platinum blond hair and their alabaster skin. Compared to the other rough clientele within the tavern, the elves appeared even more tall and menacing than usual.
Kizea walked calmly up to the bar. Behind it stood an older man, though not elderly. He was sweating from the midday heat, and was wiping down a metal goblet with a dingy, gray cloth.
"Four glasses of water if you will, and see to it that it is fresh," she said. He looked distrustfully at Kizea, and then at the elves. He walked to another section of the bar and returned shortly with a single goblet. He set it on the wooden bar before Kizea, and bowed to her, but she did not pick it up. Then he pointed to the back of the tavern where Kerrinais and Tenmelion stood.
"I'll not serve their kind," he told Kizea bluntly. The man was clearly irritated.
Instantly Kizea reached over the bar, grabbing the man by his shirt. Bracing her foot under the bar, she yanked back and dragged the surprised bartender over the bar, spilling the goblet of water. As he landed with a thud to the floor, she sputtered angrily:
"You'll show them the respect they deserve!"
When Kizea hauled the bartender onto the floor, Kerrinais's keen eyes discerned the thin outline of a small knife concealed within the palm of his right hand. Kerrinais thought to help the Fendowan, for he did not believe that Kizea knew he was armed. As he stepped forward, Tenmelion placed a hand on his arm and shook his head.
"Wait a moment," he said quietly as he watched Kizea grapple with the man. Apparently, Tenmelion had also seen the knife.
"He is armed and I do not believe she sees his weapon," Kerrinais replied, "Should we not come to her aid?"
"I know, but it will not matter. She disarmed your sword from you, did she not? It is said the Fendowan render weapons useless in a battle. Let us see how well she fares."
Kerrinais stepped back and the two watched the Fendowan with mild interest. Leaning back over to Tenmelion, Kerrinais said:
"She DOES love a good fight. If she were only an elf, I would think I was beginning to admire her."
Tenmelion nodded. All at once, Legolas appeared in the doorway. He saw Kizea, and then he looked at his companions, enjoying their newfound entertainment, and he was clearly irritated. But Tenmelion and Kerrinais were wrapped in fascination, and happy that someone else was on the receiving end of Kizea's annoyance for a change. Legolas looked at Kizea, frowning. He had not wanted to bring such attention to them, and her many indignant outbursts were beginning to wear on him. But he had not seen why the fight started, and therefore was unaware of Kizea's gesture on the elves behalf.
And so the man struggled with Kizea, tipping over nearby chairs and tables as they rolled along the floor. They landed back to almost where they had begun, with Kizea finally gaining the upper hand and sitting on the man's chest. With renewed effort, he freed his right arm and thrust the tiny dagger towards her. At the last moment she saw the glint of metal and raised her hand in a defensive posture as the dagger pierced her palm. Better to sacrifice a hand then a vital organ, she thought. But she did not cry out. Instead, she reached down to the man's shirt and yanked him up, butting her head into his. Legolas was surprised by her choice of action. He had not thought of her gold mask to be anything but an ornament, and certainly not a weapon, but she clearly made use of every conceivable item available to her in a battle. The man fell back moaning, and Kizea sat back slightly, shaking her hand until the blade fell loose. Blood gushed down her arm. Then she turned her attentions back to the man. The elves could feel the anger within her at being wounded by such an unskilled, pathetic mortal. It was as though a sudden energy filled the room, and to the elves, it was as real as feeling the energy of the sun on their faces in the morning. Tenmelion leaned back over to Kerrinais.
"NOW he will be in for it."
Kerrinais nodded, although he would not divert his eyes from Kizea. He did not want to miss anything. Legolas, upon hearing their discourse, glanced disapproving at his two companions once again, but they seem didn't notice him. Lifting the semi-conscious bartender by the collar, Kizea clenched her bloodied fist. But before she laid a single blow, an old man came hobbling out from a back room and peered over the bar.
"Here now! We'll have no fighting! Of course all your friends are welcome, Master Kizea. Here now, it is hard enough for me to run this place! Would you relieve me of all of my help? Let him go before you kill him. Then come sit down with an old man."
Kizea stopped short and looked upwards. Muttering incoherently, she shoved him roughly back to the floor as she him go. Then the girl stood up, holding the end of her sleeve hard against her wounded hand. The bartender lay there for a moment, rubbing his chest where Kizea had held him until finally he pulled himself up and staggered angrily to a side door, brushing aside onlookers. He disappeared through the doorway, and did not return. Tenmelion leaned over to Kerrinais.
"Now I am sure she has been here before," he whispered.
The old man sat down at a small, round table in a far corner of the room and waited.
Standing up, Kizea brushed the dirt from her tunic. Then with one graceful move, she hopped lightly over the bar. She walked a few feet and returned carrying four goblets, filled with icy water from the inside well. She placed them carefully on the bar, hopped back over, and picked up three. She stopped short when she saw Legolas standing in the doorway. He had seen the whole scenario. But this is not why Kizea stood dumbfounded. Suddenly, a picture came into Kizea's mind as she looked at the elf. A rush of fear and horror swept over her at seeing the elf as he stood there, and she could not move for some seconds. Just as quickly as it had begun, the feeling subsided. Kizea took a tentative step forward, not entirely sure that her feet would hold her up beneath her. She walked slowly past Legolas, to hand a goblet of water to Tenmelion, then to Kerrinais.
Kerrinais slowly accepted the cup, but did not drink right away. He had felt Kizea's sudden terror at seeing Legolas in the doorway, and he was confused by her reaction. The elves quite frequently detected the feelings of others. That is, rather to say, the elves felt what others were feeling. But Kizea misunderstood Kerrinais hesitation, and with impish grin she threw one final taunt at Kerrinais before handing Legolas his goblet.
"Drink my good elf." she said amiably, "It is not poisoned!"
Kerrinais blinked, and watched her walk to Legolas, and then a small smile came to his face as he remembered his own similar taunt to her in the elven dungeons in Mirkwood. Kizea extended her last goblet to Legolas. He took it, but was obviously displeased. He glared, his lips pursed tightly. Kizea lowered her eyes, not wanting to see Legolas's angered expression any longer. She turned about to find where the old man had gone. At first glances, all she could see was the carnage in the room. Broken chairs and tables being picked up by disgruntled patrons. Ale and meat spilled onto the floor. Suddenly Kizea felt foolish for having caused such havoc, and she knew at once why Legolas had flashed such an ill-favored look at her. Walking to the back of the tavern, Kizea stopped before a small, round wood table where the old man sat. She pulled out wobbly chair and sat down.
"You know why I have come?" Kizea began as she looked around the immediate area. No one else was near the table. The only ones interested in her discourse were the elves, who remained in the entryway to the tavern. Kizea felt that she could relax a bit.
"Yes, yes," the old man said jovially, "I was told to look out for you. All is made ready. According to your wishes, your brother was taken to the vault in the hillside, just outside the town. He was laid there a little over a week ago. I AM sorry."
Kizea stared aimlessly at a small notch in the table, saying nothing for a moment. Then she looked up at the man again. Close up his face clearly showed the wear of time. Aging lines wrinkled his face. His eyes were tired from endless toil and hardship; a short scar from some forgotten battle broke through his gray beard. But time meant little to Kizea. The stone had seen to that. In the ageless darkness of the thousand-stair cave, the Fendowan were renewed and rejuvenated each time they guarded it. It was as though time was halted for them.
But for Valnin's sake, Kizea would never have ventured here. Still, Kizea liked this old man. She entertained the idea of becoming old herself. It was like wishing for a dream that could never come true. For all the bad things that had probably befallen the old man, he was happy and cheerful. He was not afraid of her presence as the others were. Yes, Valnin had chosen him wisely as an ally against a time of need.
"And the others?" she asked, dipping her hand into her pocket.
"The ones who came with your brother returned to mountains, as you instructed. But that other one, she only laughed. I didn't care for her. She was bent over and ugly as a wragged, evil orc, but lightening fast, and her hissing scared away my all my customers. No one came back for three days until they were sure she was gone. I didn't care for her at all."
Leaning forward over the table, a sense of urgency penetrated Kizea's voice.
"Hissing? This other one, the one that frightened you, which direction did she leave in? Tell me now!"
"She, uh, well I believe she went north, with two others like her. All of them were evil looking if you asked me. I told her you'd not be pleased, Master Kizea," he said slowly, "She said she was inclined to hunting at the Eagle's Eyrie rather than sit in the woods. That's north of where Euphratas once stood. I told her that was Gwaihir's homeland and he wouldn't take kindly to her trespassing in his homeland, but she just laughed at me. Hissed and laughed."
Kizea sat back in her chair contemplating the information for a moment. Melune was still unaware of Gwahir's intentions of finding Gandalf in Isodor. Perhaps the Windlord had unwittingly bought her some time. If Gwaihir had flown over Tuluth on his was to Isodor, she was certain the eagle would have turned north and then westward. It would make more sense for Gwaihir to take advantage of one of the various southern crossings. In making for the Pass of Balsor or the Redhorn Pass, he could best take advantage of the upward wind currents between the peaks. The northern passes were not so hospitable. Perhaps he was even aware that Melune was hunting him. Kizea's thoughts drifted back to the old man.
"Two you said, are you sure of this? Were there not any orcs about?"
The man looked at Kizea, suddenly alarmed.
"I am just an old man my dear, but my eyes can still count! She left with two others like her and that is all. They rode north."
"Melune has lost her orc slaves somehow in the dark recesses of Mirkwood," Kizea said to herself looking back at the elves, "For I know her. She would not split her force now, when she believes that victory is at hand. If fortune is with us, she still believes I am imprisoned in the elven stronghold."
Legolas watched Kizea stand and plunk her bloodied hand on top of the table. The old man seemed intent on what was beneath her hand as she talked gently to him.
"I give you many thanks for your help. Here is your promised payment," Kizea said lifting her hand. Underneath it were two iridescent pearls and a shimmering green stone. The man's eyes widened, and he quickly covered the jewels with his own wrinkled hand. Then he looked about the room to see if anyone else had spied the treasure, but no one had noticed, no one, that is, but Legolas.
"See that my brother's body is looked after until I return," Kizea warned, "See that it is well-kept. Make sure!"
The man slowly nodded and placed the gemstones in his pocket. Turning on her heel, Kizea walked across the floor. Legolas instinctively stepped aside and she walked by. Without further discourse, the elves followed her to where the horses were tied. They mounted and rode west, towards the Pass of Balsor, and beyond it, the woodlands of Tamlot and Isodor.
On the eighth day, they came to the edge of the forest, where the trail met the wide plains and foothills of the Anduin. But it was late, and Kerrinais, being the highest-ranking border patrol elf, decided that it would be better to make camp within the forest one last night before they ventured into the open.
As usual, Kerrinais rode off into the night. Kizea could barely discern a faint firelight, and assumed this was yet another patrol that he was off to inspect. Tenmelion and Legolas set off to the edge of the river to fill their water skins for the hot days ahead. And Kizea wandered into the forest, unafraid of spiders or other creatures that she might encounter. Indeed, the elves themselves were more at ease and relaxed, and she presumed that most of the forest dangers were over at the borderlands.
Legolas stepped over massive roots and felled tree trunks as he made his way back to the camp. He carried with him 6 heavy water skins, filled to the brim. Tenmelion had gone off into the forest in search of additional firewood. For the most part, Legolas's attentions were bent on the ground in front of him. The area nearest to the river was fraught with ravines and other obstacles. It would not do to divert one's attentions far away, only to trip and have to refill the skins again. But as he drew nearer to the camp, he suddenly looked up and stopped short. In the dim of the firelight, a few yards from the center of the camp was Kizea, handing out morsels to each horse. She whispered a subdued hum, which struck Legolas as so musical and soothing that he was almost afraid to disturb her. He took ten steps further, and Kizea stopped abruptly, turning her head in his direction. His presence thus discovered, he walked cautiously forward and gently set down the water skins by the campfire. He continued to the edge of the camp where Kizea petted his own horse, Neonean.
"Look what I found in the deep of the forest while you lingered at the river," she said happily, holding out her hand, "Apples!"
Legolas stared at her outstretched hand, but did not accept the luscious red fruit.
"What are you doing?" he asked slowly.
"Merely providing our animals with a morsel to eat," she replied. Petting Legolas's horse on her muzzle, Kizea said,
"Your horse, what is her name?"
"Neonean," Legolas replied softly, still staring at her. Normally, his horse did not allow strangers near her. Neonean was somewhat selective in her company, yet she allowed Kizea to pet her and pat her face as though Kizea herself was an elf. This greatly puzzled Legolas. Only one other was ever able to accomplish such a feat with this horse.
"Neonean," Kizea whispered. Upon hearing her name, the horse drew her head high into the air, and whinnied.
"Surely this is the most beautiful animal I have ever seen."
Almost against his will, his mind drifted to back to the stables at Rivendell, where years before, his beloved Nevariel, the Queen Lisaine, had spoken the same exact words about this very horse. In the ten years since her death, Legolas had the curse of time to remember every word she had ever spoken to him. It was the only thing he had left of her.
"And," Legolas whispered with some effort, "Can YOU speak to my horse? Can you understand her reply?"
Kizea laughed. It was the first time Legolas had seen a lighter side of Kizea, and he gazed at her with much wonderment, but it wasn't merely her discourse. For the first time, Legolas began to see in Kizea reflections of Lisaine, and in a way his feelings frightened him. He had vowed long ago to have no other for himself, and although he might admire a beautiful elf- maiden's seductive dancing or singing, he could never be wholly rid of his feelings for the queen of the combined cities of the Anduin. The mere thought of his admiring a Fendowan warrior who was otherwise so harsh, so arrogant, so unrefined, was almost repulsive to him. He quickly squashed such thoughts from his mind. But Kizea's laughter and musical voice was at that instance so intoxicating to Legolas, and he found himself smiling at her.
"Surely you are teasing me!" Kizea replied, "No, my good elf, I cannot speak to animals. Undoubtedly another Fendowan rumor you heard in your long years! It is said that only the elves may talk to a horse and understand its discourse, because only the elves are capable of appreciating it! Not like mortal man who would work such a fine beast to death in a field or the dwarves who care not for any animals at all. Or did you not know this already? Ah! But imagine such a gift as to speak to a horse!"
Neonean nudged Kizea expectantly with her massive head, and the girl staggered back a step. Still, she laughed. Legolas was virtually speechless, he could only stand and watch the ease in which Kizea handled the elven mares. It was truly a sight to behold, and completely unexpected.
"Mind your manners my fine friend, or I'll not give you my last apple!"
Stroking the horse, Kizea finally selected Neonean one final fruit for her. She then picked up two more from a small sack on the ground, and fed the other horses in the camp each an apple. Once more she turned to Legolas.
"Come back to the fire, Legolas. For I grow cold in the night air, and I've picked enough apples for all of us to enjoy."
With that, Kizea bent down to the ground and gathered up her small bundle on the ground. She walked past Legolas without concern, leaving him staring into the darkness of the forest; unaware of the stinging memories she had unwittingly awakened within him. But his demeanor did not go all ways around unnoticed, for almost as soon as Kizea walked away, Kerrinais came walking his own mount back into the clearing. He glanced over in Kizea's direction, and then at Legolas, and knew his friend was troubled.
"What is it? What was she doing just now?" Kerrinais asked half-interested as he pulled the saddle from Moaanen's back. Legolas started back to the camp.
"Talking to the horses!" he replied, staring in Kizea's direction. The two friends walked back to the camp.
Mid-morning on the following day, the troop sat astride their horses gazing out over the endless plain of the Anduin valley. Much discussion was given as to which way they should ride. In the years following Rakal's orc invasion of the valley, small settlements of men began to spring up where the proud cities once stood. Slowly, it appeared, the race of men was beginning to re-settle in some areas. They were but a seedling race in the earth, trying to grasp hold of the land to grow and prosper. The Anduin River, which cut through the valley, proved to be a most desirable route for many. To the West lay the formidable Misty Mountains, cold and unforgiving. To the East lay the thick forest of Mirkwood, with its evil creatures roaming unchecked and untamed. The only beings able to cohabit with these nameless beasts of the forest were the elves of King Thranduil's realm.
As Kizea had learned, any being wandering unwelcome into the forest would quickly fall prey to the wandering creatures of the dark. And so the Anduin proved to be the easiest route for travel, with abundant water and fish. In the years to come, the race of men would find the lands along the valley harder and harder to keep. A folly it was that after Rakal's army had swept through some 10 years earlier, the surviving men, few that there were, could not agree on the rightful successor to the combined kingdoms throne. Such a prize as it was, that they fought frequently among themselves, and took to living in their smallish towns and settlements. Having no armies but merely small militias to defend the fledgling cities would eventually prove to be their undoing. Sauron's orc armies, ever ready to take advantage of a weakness, would in time seize the opportunity and vanquish the race of man from the Anduin valley entirely. But for now, men still maintained a foothold there, and to some it appeared as though the many villages that sprung up would lead to new prosperous kingdoms, and the mood among the people was, for the most part, encouraged.
Legolas and Kerrinais each voted to opt for a more northerly route that would pass through the old kingdoms of Irwindal and Euphratas. The group would then head west over the High Pass to Imladris. Neither Kerrinais nor Legolas bore any desire to return to the elven city, but it was now more a matter of practicality. Such a journey would keep them in close connection to water and supplies. Also, there was more than a good chance that they would find Gandalf within the city of Rivendell, where he often stayed when traveling in that part of the country. Legolas could only guess that in Isodor, Gandalf would not linger very long, and they needed to find him with some expediency. Yes, King Thranduil had sent them forth to Isodor, but he had also cautioned his son the night before their journey began.
"Mind you Legolas, keep to the well-used trails over the mountains. Gwaihir the Windlord may well pass only briefly over the elf haven of Isodor and choose to find Mithrandir in Imladris instead. It is my feeling that Gwaihir will not leave his guard down in the unprotected woodlands of Tamlot. Hasten then to Lord Elrond and meet Gandalf the Gray there. It may well be that all will be finally resolved in Rivendell."
But Kizea was resolute about a more southerly path. Her idea was to lead the band past the broken city of Tuluth, which nearly sat on the river Gladden as it intersected the Anduin. And once leaving there, the journey would take them through the Pass of Balsor in the south of the Misty Mountains. This remained a more comfortable road for her, and she felt more able to traverse a known landscape. And so once again, the group set to more argument than discussion as to which was the proper way to go. Supplies and water were not quite as abundant, they argued, and the road would lead them first to Isodor before Rivendell, and none of the elves had known Gandalf to tarry in the harsher elven lands. But Kizea would not give way. The elves vehemently argued of the possibility that the group could miss the wizard by traveling to Tamlot first. Finally, Kizea told them,
"You must trust to my judgment in this. There is an excellent chance that Melune uses this same path, for she too will opt for the quickest way now, not the most comfortable. I need not tell you the consequences if she is to find Gwaihir and the stone first, and it is to Isodor where King Thranduil sent Gwaihir. I am sure that Melune already knows of our plan, whether you will believe me or no. I must be sure that Gandalf does not wander aimlessly in Isodor, only then might we go to Rivendell. That is the route that Melune and the others will pursue, and that is where I must go as well."
At last, upon Kizea's threat of leaving the group to go her own way, Legolas and the others relented, and they rode off onto the plain in the searing heat of the midday sun. It was several days journey from the border to reach the river. Until that time, they would need to conserve water and rations as they might, but this was of little concern. The elves normally ate sparsely, usually taking only an evening meal of lembas and a few handfuls of berries. None ever saw Kizea eat. She would steal away into the night, beyond where the shadows overtook the light of the campfire. Kerrinais often admonished her for this practice, but she paid little attention to his words, fearing neither orc nor elf nor any other creature. It was not entirely arrogance that led Kizea to believe she had witnessed firsthand the worst that the world had to offer.
The group eventually came to the outskirts of a town that had once been the vast kingdom of Tuluth. It did not escape Kizea's notice that as the party grew closer, Legolas and Kerrinais moods grew more somber. Instead of interest of their surroundings, and turning their heads in ever-watchful lookout, both elves fell silent as they passed through the foothills. Their heads lowered, and their eyes staring downward. Kizea knew this had once been a battleground when Rakal's army had swept through, destroying the city. But she had no knowledge of the elves ever being involved in the fray, and in fact, did not believe they were. She attributed their silence to the persistent need of water. All their skins were now dry, their throats parched. The flat landscape offered few trees for shelter, only the endless grassy plains as they plodded along. Even Kizea began to feel the heat. Trapped within her golden mask, she often felt faint, as the sweat poured over her cheeks. The heat within was beginning to drain her. Yet, the thought of simply removing her face covering never entered her mind. In the forest of Ryalan, the Fendowan were seldom without tree or stream where they could not cool off or rest as needed. This was different. In the searing, midday sun, Kizea felt stretched to her limits, and she knew the entire group needed water and soon.
In an effort to lighten the mood, Kizea briefly thought to sing a Fendowan chant in honor of the stone. But just as her mouth began to open, she looked over and cut herself short. Tenmelion was whispering an elven prayer, his arm placed across his chest, his eyes closed in reverence. Kizea knew that some elven kindred of theirs had fallen here, and probably to Rakal the Deceiver. Rakal was thus far the only orc captain bold enough to attempt and succeed, albeit briefly, for domination of the Anduin valley. The group went on in silence.
At last they arrived at the small village, and Kizea was well pleased. Even the elves seemed to improve, gazing at the reconstructed buildings with some fascination. The townsfolk stopped from their business and stared as the group went by. A marvelous sight, a Fendowan AND three elves! But none dared speak to them. As Tenmelion gazed back at the people, several quickly adverted their eyes so as not to have their minds stolen away. Tenmelion smiled slightly.
"Come my good elves," Kizea said finally, "The road has been long, and ahead we can rest and get water for the horses. I know of an innkeeper who will give me information as to whether anyone has seen Melune pass by. We can stop there to refresh ourselves."
Kerrinais looked sideways at Legolas. No elf would normally set foot in such a township, much less corner themselves within a tavern full of men. The race of men were dirty and unkempt, virtually devoid of manners OR cleanliness. Such a thought was most distasteful to Kerrinais, but if the others would not speak against it for the moment, neither would he. Almost as soon as Kizea finished her sentence, the group rode by a heavily laden cart. A dirt-besotted man with a slightly graying beard was fiercely whipping a horse, prodding it on. Clearly, the horse was having trouble making the small incline of the road. A small boy, dressed in rags, stood meekly behind the cart, waiting for it to move. With each crack of the whip on the horse's flank, the horse whinnied and struggled on. The beast was thin and ill fed, his ribs protruded on his side. His coat was muddy and dull. Kerrinais and Tenmelion went by with hardly a second glance. But Kizea pulled gently on her reins and her own mount halted. Legolas put his hand on Neonean's neck, and she too came to a stop in the road. The elf turned back to ask Kizea why she had stopped, but she was already dismounted. He sat back and looked on with some interest, wondering what Kizea was doing. Walking up to the man, she grabbed the whip from his hand as he raised it high in the air, while the boy peered fearfully around the back of the cart. The man looked at her up and down for a second, incredulous.
"What do YOU want?" he demanded angrily.
Kizea said nothing, but made a hard fist and with one blinding forward punch, landed it squarely on the man's chin. He fell to the ground without a sound. The boy gasped, then giggled. Legolas watched as Kizea walked up to the horse and stroke its face before she pulled out a lembas loaf that she had hidden in her pocket. Legolas lifted his eyebrows. He did not know she had secreted away her elven food. He wondered if perhaps the rumors were not true after all, that the Fendowan neither ate nor drank. She fed it to the animal without hesitation, and the beast immediately raised its head as though new life had come to him. Then she pulled her golden dagger from her waist and cut some of the ropes that held sacks of hay and heavy goods. Pulling several heaping load to the ground, she beckoned the boy to step forward. Shyly, he walked up to her. One of his eyes was blackened.
"This horse is too overloaded to make the hill," she said, "Where are you going?"
"To the market, just over there," he said meekly. The boy pointed. Kizea lifted her head and gazed in the direction, some few hundred yards beyond the hill where the open market was bustling with townsfolk.
"Take the cart to the market, unload it and return for the rest, then get this horse something to eat. He is starving."
She reached into her pocket and placed something in the boy's tiny hand and continued to whisper to him. The boy nodded, his eyes widened with admiration. Then Kizea reached upwards to touch the boy's bruised cheek.
"Fear not," she said, "I vow he will abuse you no longer. Now go."
The lad sprinted to grab the horse's reins and he began to pull, a wide grin upon his face. Renewed by the lembas, and with a lightened load, the horse trotted forward with little trouble. When they were a hundred yards away, the man began to regain consciousness, only to find the tip of Kizea's dagger under his chin. He sat bolt upright, clawing behind himself to get away. Overwhelmed with sudden terror, the man looked to the left and right to see the supplies that had been left on the ground. Then he stared at the whip lying on the ground next to him, almost within his grasp. His fingers edged slowly forward, but Kizea instantly placed her boot upon the man's hand and crushed it into the ground. The man cried out, attempting to pull back his arm, but it was pinned solidly under her foot. He gazed up to Kizea's dented mask, and a new wave of horror swept over him. He had seen the others of her kind come before her. The townsfolk hurriedly bolting their doors behind them in fear, as the other Fendowan walked unchallenged through the streets in the town. Their very presence frightened away everyone, and rumors spread quickly of an impending battle that would return Rakal into their midst. The Fendowan, turned loose in Middle-Earth at last, commanded the dead. Thinking Kizea a demon, the man was too terrified to move any further.
"Insolent peasant!" Kizea cried, pressing the dagger harder against his throat, "You DARE to think you might challenge ME?"
The man settled back, no longer caring of his hand, or the whip.
"The boy will return shortly with the cart," she growled, "Then you may finish bringing your wares to the market, such as they are."
The man could not utter a sound, but only nodded. Kizea leaned in, lifting her boot from the man's hand. Her dagger pointed directly at the terrified man's eye. Her demeanor turned suddenly from annoyed to darkly somber, and Kizea's eyes focused into a colder, angrier expression at the man.
"You know who I am," she said in a low, menacing voice. The man nodded and began to shake.
"I will return to this place. I swear a Fendowan oath to this" she whispered, "If ever I find you beating that boy or that horse again, there will be no haven far enough to hide you from ME. And when I am done with you, I shall hand you over to the Mirkwood elves, who hold no love for men!"
The man gasped, jerking his now bloodied hand free, he scrambled backwards. He looked upwards to Legolas, who towered above him as he sat astride Neonean. Legolas grinned at the man, his eyes sparkled with an eerie translucent hue, and the man swallowed hard. The color drained away from his face as his eyes darted back at Kizea.
"Do we understand one another?" Kizea whispered again. The man could only nod.
"See that you do," Kizea whispered, "I give NO quarter to a deceiver, and there is no justice equaled to a Fendowan's!"
Then making another hard fist, she landed it squarely on the man's chin again, and once again he fell backwards, unconscious. Kizea stood up and brushed her tunic off with her tiny fingers. As she walked back to her horse, she replaced her dagger in her waist belt, she rubbed her knuckle with her other hand. It stung and was beginning to swell again. Trying to conceal the pain, she gathered the reins of her horse, preparing to mount. However she was careful to grab the saddle horn with but three fingers and this did not escape Legolas's notice.
Kizea was hardly aware of Legolas's amusement at the entire scene, but he clearly approved. To the elves, the race of men was but a fleeting entity in Middle-Earth. So few of them were extraordinary enough as to deserve an elf's attention, much less their time. Although the battle of Isodor had somewhat improved Legolas's opinion of them, (the few times that Legolas had come into contact with men was on the battlefield), he quickly digressed when confronted with the likes of this man. Filthy, cold hearted, and he clearly had no inclination to properly care for lesser beasts or children in his care. Lightly jumping to the horse's back, Kizea kicked her heels slightly and the horse walked on past Legolas. He only watched her go by quietly. For Kizea to bring a mortal prisoner to the elves for punishment was a ludicrous idea, the elves simply would not keep such a man imprisoned for such little reason within their realm. But then, he felt Kizea knew this too, and only said this to the man to frighten him all the more. For her part, Legolas had no doubts that she would keep her promise and return to check on the boy and the horse. He also had no doubts as to her willingness to dispatch the man if he did not hold up his end of the bargain. But Legolas remained somewhat confused by her behavior. It would have been easier just to kill the man outright, yet she had not done so. Within her, Legolas saw the capacity for mercy. In elven lore, this was a trait for which the Fendowan were NOT renowned. Kizea was slowly changing, and Legolas wondered if Kizea could feel it too.
With the stranger, Kizea's threat had the intended effect. Legolas could see it in his eyes. The horror and fear he experienced was beyond anything he had ever known, and the elf knew that he would keep his word, if only to avoid seeing the Kizea again. Apparently he knew something of Fendowan oaths, and this also made Legolas curious. Where would such a mere mortal, obviously no king or person of importance, hear or know of Kizea? Neonean suddenly began to trot forwards, and the gray mare slowed down beside Kizea. The elf, still grinning, said nothing to her, but only looked beyond the crest of the hill where Tenmelion and Kerrinais patiently waited. For some moments, Kizea remained silent, and then she glanced sideways at Legolas's amused face.
"I do not abide mistreatment of the weak," she told him with a frown. Legolas did not reply.
Kicking her horse again, the girl trotted away down the road. Legolas watched her ride away from him, his lips still slightly curved upwards.
"So it would seem," he said to himself, "So it would seem."
He spoke quietly to Neonean and she trotted obediently towards the others.
On the outskirts of the village stood a small tavern, The Winter Green's Gate. It was not so big a building, but there was a well to one side of it, the only one in the town. It was now nearing late afternoon, and the group had neither eaten nor had water for the entire day. Legolas surmised that Kizea had given the entire group's last loaf of lembas to the horse drawing the cart in the market. Kizea dismounted and pulled her horse to the well. She looked down into the well and sniffed at the air. Deciding the water was acceptable, Kizea lowered a worn, cracked wooden bucket into the well, and cranked the wooden arm until the bucket emerged from the depths, filled with cold, icy water. Her horse's eyes grew wide as she set the bucket down on the ground, and he gladly drank. By now, Legolas, Kerrinais and Tenmelion were also bringing their horses to the well.
One or two men walking into the tavern slowed and watched the group distrustfully as they went by, but upon seeing Kizea's golden mask, lowered their gaze and hurried through the door. Finally, Kizea looked up at the tavern door and sighed slightly.
"I must go in. You might stay here and tend to the horses if you will. The water from this well has always been fresh and cold."
"You've been here before," Tenmelion said to her. It was one of the first times the elf had spoken to Kizea without a tone of sarcasm in his voice. Kizea looked beyond the elf towards the direction of the river, seemingly not hearing him. Turning about, the Fendowan began to walk away towards the tavern door.
Legolas motioned for Kerrinais and Tenmelion to go with her.
"I shall tend the horses. Be sure to watch her," he told them. Dipping the wooden bucket back into the depths of the well, the horses huddled around the elf as he brought another heaping bucket of icy water to the surface. The other elves nodded and followed in her footsteps. But when Kizea realized they were following her, she turned around in an attempt to dissuade them. Kizea had not intended to enter the tavern with 2 elves on her heels.
"You need not look after me," she said exasperated, "Must you hover over my every footstep?"
Kerrinais, who had always been an elf of good negotiation for the king, managed around the possible confrontation with Kizea.
"Perhaps we can find some food and drink for ourselves," he told her. Kizea gazed at him, contemplating his words as though she were trying to make out the truth to his statement. Valnin had often told Kizea that the elves, above most other things, were incapable of lying. And in return, any other being was incapable of lying to the elves, for they merely had to look into one's eyes to learn the teller's truth or deception. Fendowans were of like mind then to the elves. They told naught but the truth, and as a Fendowan, would never break an oath but on pain of death.
Kerrinais and Tenmelion stood before her expectantly. Finally, Kizea turned on her heel and continued to the tavern door.
"Come then," she said, "Our road has been overlong, and will be longer before we are done. We will all find refreshment inside. I would not have you collapsing in this heat and have to return you to Mirkwood on my back."
Had Kizea spoken such words to Kerrinais earlier, he would have been insulted by her insolence. Now he merely grinned slightly at her continued audacity, as he and Tenmelion followed her inside. As they walked through the door, Kizea's presence was not immediately noticed. But when the elves came inside, all manner of banter and eating halted. Looking behind her, Kizea noticed that her companions only stood just inside the doorway, and would venture no further into the room. The whole of the tavern was dimmed somewhat. As the shadows began to creep across the floor, the elves emanated their own light. They glowed, as would a lantern, bringing a sun like hue into the room. The two had left their longbows with their horses, but they were nevertheless armed with their elven long knives strapped to their backs in case of trouble. Kizea looked at them for only a second, but in that brief moment, she admired their long, fine platinum blond hair and their alabaster skin. Compared to the other rough clientele within the tavern, the elves appeared even more tall and menacing than usual.
Kizea walked calmly up to the bar. Behind it stood an older man, though not elderly. He was sweating from the midday heat, and was wiping down a metal goblet with a dingy, gray cloth.
"Four glasses of water if you will, and see to it that it is fresh," she said. He looked distrustfully at Kizea, and then at the elves. He walked to another section of the bar and returned shortly with a single goblet. He set it on the wooden bar before Kizea, and bowed to her, but she did not pick it up. Then he pointed to the back of the tavern where Kerrinais and Tenmelion stood.
"I'll not serve their kind," he told Kizea bluntly. The man was clearly irritated.
Instantly Kizea reached over the bar, grabbing the man by his shirt. Bracing her foot under the bar, she yanked back and dragged the surprised bartender over the bar, spilling the goblet of water. As he landed with a thud to the floor, she sputtered angrily:
"You'll show them the respect they deserve!"
When Kizea hauled the bartender onto the floor, Kerrinais's keen eyes discerned the thin outline of a small knife concealed within the palm of his right hand. Kerrinais thought to help the Fendowan, for he did not believe that Kizea knew he was armed. As he stepped forward, Tenmelion placed a hand on his arm and shook his head.
"Wait a moment," he said quietly as he watched Kizea grapple with the man. Apparently, Tenmelion had also seen the knife.
"He is armed and I do not believe she sees his weapon," Kerrinais replied, "Should we not come to her aid?"
"I know, but it will not matter. She disarmed your sword from you, did she not? It is said the Fendowan render weapons useless in a battle. Let us see how well she fares."
Kerrinais stepped back and the two watched the Fendowan with mild interest. Leaning back over to Tenmelion, Kerrinais said:
"She DOES love a good fight. If she were only an elf, I would think I was beginning to admire her."
Tenmelion nodded. All at once, Legolas appeared in the doorway. He saw Kizea, and then he looked at his companions, enjoying their newfound entertainment, and he was clearly irritated. But Tenmelion and Kerrinais were wrapped in fascination, and happy that someone else was on the receiving end of Kizea's annoyance for a change. Legolas looked at Kizea, frowning. He had not wanted to bring such attention to them, and her many indignant outbursts were beginning to wear on him. But he had not seen why the fight started, and therefore was unaware of Kizea's gesture on the elves behalf.
And so the man struggled with Kizea, tipping over nearby chairs and tables as they rolled along the floor. They landed back to almost where they had begun, with Kizea finally gaining the upper hand and sitting on the man's chest. With renewed effort, he freed his right arm and thrust the tiny dagger towards her. At the last moment she saw the glint of metal and raised her hand in a defensive posture as the dagger pierced her palm. Better to sacrifice a hand then a vital organ, she thought. But she did not cry out. Instead, she reached down to the man's shirt and yanked him up, butting her head into his. Legolas was surprised by her choice of action. He had not thought of her gold mask to be anything but an ornament, and certainly not a weapon, but she clearly made use of every conceivable item available to her in a battle. The man fell back moaning, and Kizea sat back slightly, shaking her hand until the blade fell loose. Blood gushed down her arm. Then she turned her attentions back to the man. The elves could feel the anger within her at being wounded by such an unskilled, pathetic mortal. It was as though a sudden energy filled the room, and to the elves, it was as real as feeling the energy of the sun on their faces in the morning. Tenmelion leaned back over to Kerrinais.
"NOW he will be in for it."
Kerrinais nodded, although he would not divert his eyes from Kizea. He did not want to miss anything. Legolas, upon hearing their discourse, glanced disapproving at his two companions once again, but they seem didn't notice him. Lifting the semi-conscious bartender by the collar, Kizea clenched her bloodied fist. But before she laid a single blow, an old man came hobbling out from a back room and peered over the bar.
"Here now! We'll have no fighting! Of course all your friends are welcome, Master Kizea. Here now, it is hard enough for me to run this place! Would you relieve me of all of my help? Let him go before you kill him. Then come sit down with an old man."
Kizea stopped short and looked upwards. Muttering incoherently, she shoved him roughly back to the floor as she him go. Then the girl stood up, holding the end of her sleeve hard against her wounded hand. The bartender lay there for a moment, rubbing his chest where Kizea had held him until finally he pulled himself up and staggered angrily to a side door, brushing aside onlookers. He disappeared through the doorway, and did not return. Tenmelion leaned over to Kerrinais.
"Now I am sure she has been here before," he whispered.
The old man sat down at a small, round table in a far corner of the room and waited.
Standing up, Kizea brushed the dirt from her tunic. Then with one graceful move, she hopped lightly over the bar. She walked a few feet and returned carrying four goblets, filled with icy water from the inside well. She placed them carefully on the bar, hopped back over, and picked up three. She stopped short when she saw Legolas standing in the doorway. He had seen the whole scenario. But this is not why Kizea stood dumbfounded. Suddenly, a picture came into Kizea's mind as she looked at the elf. A rush of fear and horror swept over her at seeing the elf as he stood there, and she could not move for some seconds. Just as quickly as it had begun, the feeling subsided. Kizea took a tentative step forward, not entirely sure that her feet would hold her up beneath her. She walked slowly past Legolas, to hand a goblet of water to Tenmelion, then to Kerrinais.
Kerrinais slowly accepted the cup, but did not drink right away. He had felt Kizea's sudden terror at seeing Legolas in the doorway, and he was confused by her reaction. The elves quite frequently detected the feelings of others. That is, rather to say, the elves felt what others were feeling. But Kizea misunderstood Kerrinais hesitation, and with impish grin she threw one final taunt at Kerrinais before handing Legolas his goblet.
"Drink my good elf." she said amiably, "It is not poisoned!"
Kerrinais blinked, and watched her walk to Legolas, and then a small smile came to his face as he remembered his own similar taunt to her in the elven dungeons in Mirkwood. Kizea extended her last goblet to Legolas. He took it, but was obviously displeased. He glared, his lips pursed tightly. Kizea lowered her eyes, not wanting to see Legolas's angered expression any longer. She turned about to find where the old man had gone. At first glances, all she could see was the carnage in the room. Broken chairs and tables being picked up by disgruntled patrons. Ale and meat spilled onto the floor. Suddenly Kizea felt foolish for having caused such havoc, and she knew at once why Legolas had flashed such an ill-favored look at her. Walking to the back of the tavern, Kizea stopped before a small, round wood table where the old man sat. She pulled out wobbly chair and sat down.
"You know why I have come?" Kizea began as she looked around the immediate area. No one else was near the table. The only ones interested in her discourse were the elves, who remained in the entryway to the tavern. Kizea felt that she could relax a bit.
"Yes, yes," the old man said jovially, "I was told to look out for you. All is made ready. According to your wishes, your brother was taken to the vault in the hillside, just outside the town. He was laid there a little over a week ago. I AM sorry."
Kizea stared aimlessly at a small notch in the table, saying nothing for a moment. Then she looked up at the man again. Close up his face clearly showed the wear of time. Aging lines wrinkled his face. His eyes were tired from endless toil and hardship; a short scar from some forgotten battle broke through his gray beard. But time meant little to Kizea. The stone had seen to that. In the ageless darkness of the thousand-stair cave, the Fendowan were renewed and rejuvenated each time they guarded it. It was as though time was halted for them.
But for Valnin's sake, Kizea would never have ventured here. Still, Kizea liked this old man. She entertained the idea of becoming old herself. It was like wishing for a dream that could never come true. For all the bad things that had probably befallen the old man, he was happy and cheerful. He was not afraid of her presence as the others were. Yes, Valnin had chosen him wisely as an ally against a time of need.
"And the others?" she asked, dipping her hand into her pocket.
"The ones who came with your brother returned to mountains, as you instructed. But that other one, she only laughed. I didn't care for her. She was bent over and ugly as a wragged, evil orc, but lightening fast, and her hissing scared away my all my customers. No one came back for three days until they were sure she was gone. I didn't care for her at all."
Leaning forward over the table, a sense of urgency penetrated Kizea's voice.
"Hissing? This other one, the one that frightened you, which direction did she leave in? Tell me now!"
"She, uh, well I believe she went north, with two others like her. All of them were evil looking if you asked me. I told her you'd not be pleased, Master Kizea," he said slowly, "She said she was inclined to hunting at the Eagle's Eyrie rather than sit in the woods. That's north of where Euphratas once stood. I told her that was Gwaihir's homeland and he wouldn't take kindly to her trespassing in his homeland, but she just laughed at me. Hissed and laughed."
Kizea sat back in her chair contemplating the information for a moment. Melune was still unaware of Gwahir's intentions of finding Gandalf in Isodor. Perhaps the Windlord had unwittingly bought her some time. If Gwaihir had flown over Tuluth on his was to Isodor, she was certain the eagle would have turned north and then westward. It would make more sense for Gwaihir to take advantage of one of the various southern crossings. In making for the Pass of Balsor or the Redhorn Pass, he could best take advantage of the upward wind currents between the peaks. The northern passes were not so hospitable. Perhaps he was even aware that Melune was hunting him. Kizea's thoughts drifted back to the old man.
"Two you said, are you sure of this? Were there not any orcs about?"
The man looked at Kizea, suddenly alarmed.
"I am just an old man my dear, but my eyes can still count! She left with two others like her and that is all. They rode north."
"Melune has lost her orc slaves somehow in the dark recesses of Mirkwood," Kizea said to herself looking back at the elves, "For I know her. She would not split her force now, when she believes that victory is at hand. If fortune is with us, she still believes I am imprisoned in the elven stronghold."
Legolas watched Kizea stand and plunk her bloodied hand on top of the table. The old man seemed intent on what was beneath her hand as she talked gently to him.
"I give you many thanks for your help. Here is your promised payment," Kizea said lifting her hand. Underneath it were two iridescent pearls and a shimmering green stone. The man's eyes widened, and he quickly covered the jewels with his own wrinkled hand. Then he looked about the room to see if anyone else had spied the treasure, but no one had noticed, no one, that is, but Legolas.
"See that my brother's body is looked after until I return," Kizea warned, "See that it is well-kept. Make sure!"
The man slowly nodded and placed the gemstones in his pocket. Turning on her heel, Kizea walked across the floor. Legolas instinctively stepped aside and she walked by. Without further discourse, the elves followed her to where the horses were tied. They mounted and rode west, towards the Pass of Balsor, and beyond it, the woodlands of Tamlot and Isodor.