Chapter Nine: The Rescue
The three Rivendell Elves sat straighter around the campfire they made as they listened to their surroundings. They heard a shriek that was just near the edge of their hearing, which by mortal standards was far superior to any other race. The shriek continued for more than a minute, then, the night was relieved from the hideous call and all was quiet again.
Narquelion drew his cloak closer to his body. He was not cold but there was some eeriness that would not removed itself over the area and continued watching the darkening surroundings.
When finally the loathsome sound was gone, he commented. "Telltale signs of evil is rearing its head in the lands again."
"Aye," Himandel concurred. "The Dark years are yet to come," he spoke as he nudged a piece of wood into the fire. He glanced at Ilmelion. The messenger was abnormally quiet in their travel.
"Is something bothering you, Ilmelion?" asked Himandel.
The messenger wagged his dark-haired head. "I was only thinking of the shriek and what it could mean." He answered.
"Do you think we will encounter Dunlendings as we approach their borders?" Ilmelion asked his companions, shifting their conversation.
"It is possible as we will be passing through their territory," Narquelion replied.
"But Himandel and I," he said with emphasis. " Will make sure Lord Elrond's messenger will make it safe," he said while arching an eyebrow in jest.
A small smile broke on Ilmelion's face. "I am...flattered that you carry me in high regard, Narquelion." Ilmelion remarked with a wry smile on his face but he grew serious again. "I am thinking of the travelers, Himandel saw riding ahead of us." He could not silent the bad feeling tugging at the fringes of his mind.
"Whoever they are, I do hope they are well armed." He said but he knew somehow that his words had truth in them.
Narquelion decided to dispel the foreboding mood around the campfire in fact; it felt like it was still over the plains. The effect of the shriek had not faded or so they have thought. It was indeed clawing towards the three Rivendell folk. It was a shadow aimed to bring down any ray of hope and light in the land.
The elf soon reached inside his tunic, for the short flute that he always carry in his travels. The little instrument was beautifully made with intricate Elvish scripts flourishing around its slender gray-white body. With customary ease, Narquelion's fingers sought the tiny holes on the body of the musical instrument. The polished surface seemed to sparkle that even the under the starlight, the wooden flute gleam in light brilliance. Narquelion brought the instrument close to his lips and began blowing Elvish tunes from it. Songs he remembered in his long life and the melodies began to fill the silence. Soon, the two other elves joined in, singing with their fair voices along with the merry music. The grave feeling that fell on the area retreated, pushed away by the magic of the Elves.
Back in Imladris, Anathea hobbled inside her room. Estel was playing a trick on her that she knew for certain. She couldn't find the brush she was using a while ago and had a hunch Estel hid it.
"I know you have it Estel," she said as she slowly moved from one trunk to another and leaned over to see if the boy was hiding behind them. No, Estel there. She thought and proceeded to a finely crafted divider in the room. It seemed ages had passed before she reached it and peeked behind the frame. The boy was still not there. Then she heard a snicker coming from behind. She turned around sharply and surveyed the room. Where did that laugh come from? She thought as her mind recalled the sound. As she continued to look around the few places where Estel could have hid, her eyes drifted under her bed. Acting on a hunch, she hobbled back to her bed. It was still clearly an effort on her part to reach the bed. Her chest burned slightly from the strain and found herself heaving for several breaths as she sat at the edge of the bed.
Estel placed his hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud. He enjoyed playing hide-and-seek with Elladan and Elrohir but now, the object of his prank is Anathea. He watched from under her bed as she slowly made her route to the trunks. Then his eyes followed her feet as she walked towards the clothes divider that was at the corner of the room. Soon, he watched them heading towards the bed. He knew his snicker was loud enough to get her attention.
The edge of the bed depresses inward as if a weight was on top of it. He knew Anathea had sat at the foot of the bed. He also could tell from the sounds of her heaving that she was catching her breath.
Then Estel felt his muscles tense and mentally began a count off for his escape and at the exact moment, he rolled away.
Anathea quickly drop to her knees and scanned under bed. She found no one underneath. She let out an exasperated breath; Estel was making it hard for her.
"Estel," she called from the floor.
"What?" The boy answered innocently from above her. Startled, Anathea looked on top of the bed. He was not there.
"Up here." The boy said from above.
Anathea followed the voice and saw Estel hugging the wooden female statue that was at the head of her bed. The girl slowly stood up.
"Estel!" She said in surprise and noted with admiration the easy movements of the boy as he pushed away from statue. Apparently, Estel used the intricate wooden struts behind the statue for support so, as not to sit on the statue's fragile arms or else he would surely break them under his weight. He flopped on the middle of her the bed, smiling.
The corners of Anathea's mouth curled a little for a coming smile as she remembered Estel hugging the statue. It looked funny but since he quickly sprang away from the statue, it seems less hilarious now.
"Looking for this?" Estel handed her the brush, which the girl was searching for a while ago.
"You could have injured yourself, Estel." Anathea slightly admonishes. Estel wagged his head. "No, I wouldn't." He told her with confidence and bounded off from the bed and headed to the door.
"Would you like to join me the day after tomorrow for a visit of the grounds?" Estel offered.
The girl's face brightened. "I would love that."
"Good, see you then." Estel gave her a small wave and left the room.
Anathea couldn't imagine the boy's exuberant energy since the little game easily made her tired. It's probably because of my wounds. She mused and slowly walked towards the balcony and watched the Elves passing under the trees from a distance. She noted with curiosity that they seemed to glow within themselves and by watching them she found them to have a calming effect on her. She hang her head over the railing, her chest braced against frame and let her arm sway languidly as if imagining some invisible water in a pond and was immediately lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear the first knock by the door frame.
Another soft knock shook her out from her reverie and Anathea turned around. She saw a smiling Elrohir by the doorway.
"I came by to see how you are, Anathea," the elf said as he strode into her room.
"I'm just..." pausing a little when a recollection of the brief game with Estel came to her mind.
"Catching my breath," she finally said.
Elrohir stood beside her and cast a puzzled look.
"Estel, was here a while ago and he played a game by hiding my brush that I knew he had with him all along," she explained after seeing Elrohir's questioning glance.
"Ah," Elrohir grins with understanding coming over his fair countenance. "He is fun of doing that." He said.
Anathea momentarily felt herself staring at the towering elf and was in awe to be standing beside him. Her eyes traced the elegant lines of his clothes clearly marking him as from one of royalty. But she noted something else, a sadness?
Elrohir turned to regard the little girl and had a feeling she was going to say something next so he waited for her to speak her mind.
"Elrohir, what did you say to me when we were riding away from the Ford?" she asked, curious. She had been dreaming of an image since the day she was rescued by the Elves and she wanted to know.
The elf placed his hand on the girl's head and was touched by her innocence. He knelt on one knee so he could be at eye level with the girl.
"I said was, 'to stay with the light'," he replied and watched the girl.
"Can you say it again? The same way you said it to me." The girl's brows furrowed a little as if she was remembering too the words.
Again, Elrohir looked puzzled at the request but granted it and spoke to her in Elvish.
The girl's eyes grew wide in wonder as she heard the different language. "It's beautiful." She breathlessly said.
"In your time you will hear more languages, Anathea." Elrohir predicted.
The girl grew quiet again and looked away from him. "I missed them, Elrohir," she said out right.
Elrohir gave the little girl a comforting embrace, as he knew whom she was speaking of. There was a bleak sadness passing over her face that he failed to see.
"I wish the hurt will disappear. I don't want it." She continued while her voice broke a little. Anathea arms tighten around Elrohir's neck. It was the child's way of seeking comfort from the unending pain that seems to keep on repeating inside her mind.
"We are here, Anathea." Elrohir said gently and began stroking Anathea's back hoping to calm the girl, guessing that Anathea was about to cry at any moment. But it did not come, somehow. Instead, it was replaced with a long sigh until the girl drew herself away from him.
"Thank you for saving my life. I realized I haven't thanked you at all." Anathea felt shamefaced.
Elrohir wagged his head as if to say it was not necessary. "I am glad we were there to help." Elrohir replied and gave the little girl a comforting smile. He tucked away a strand of hair behind her ear when a breeze swept into the room and gazed at the small sad hazel green eyes. Wishing he could give her all the comfort the child needed.
Anathea felt her face breaking into a smile and soon sat down on the floor. She felt at peace and contented that she didn't know how it came.
Elrohir followed suit beside her and together the elf and the human girl shared stories under the moon radiating its light down on them.
***************
Two more days had passed in their journey to Gondor when Ilmelion, with two of his companions, found numerous hoof tracks on the ground. They were already in Dunland and their elven senses were heightened and have detected a second Dunlending group hiding out by the boulders, just a furlong away.
Staying close to each other, they continued on their travel and a sight of a dead horse warned them of an ambush and more hoof prints.
Narquelion hopped off from his steed and strode near the dead horse. A long spear had stabbed close the animal's heart.
"Dunlendings." The elf reported as he recognized the weapon-make. He remounted his horse when Ilmelion spoke.
"Just as I feared. The travelers have been waylaid." The messenger said.
"Come then," Himandel urged the two. "Let us see if we can at least even the odds."
**********
Wrists and ankles bound and draped on the horse like packed stores, Vanmeare glared at his 'new' captors. Dunlendings have captured them and in their grim haste they had not taken into account that these people were watching their borders too intently. Vanmeare and Avalenne had hoped they would pass the land without incident. Unfortunately, it was clearly not the case.
Vanmeare struggled with his binds while coughing out the dust that rose from the horse's stride to his throat. He was thrown at the back of the horse facing the ground making his chest and stomach pound against the saddle. Despite only walking in a slow procession, it hasn't eased the ache on Vanmeare's bruised chest. He knew that traveling this way even made the prisoners wearier. He hoped his sister was faring better than he was. The thoughts about her intruded into his mind since he couldn't see what happened to her after they were separated. He hoped that she was in the same group as he was.
Vanmeare knew they were all heading to the Dunlendings camp. He also knew that they were loosing precious hours again. Frustration nagged him like a sore thumb that would not go away.
He took a deep breath in hopes that it would relieve his already throbbing temples caused by the pressure of his blood not circulating properly through out his body. It might have been more than an hour being in the same position since his arms have also grown numbed too.
Unknown to them, the slow pace of the Dunlendings provided ample time for the Elven riders to catch up with them. With barely a half a league ahead from the Dunlending group, Ilmelion, Himandel and Narquelion increased their distance yet keeping a discrete space just out from the Dunlendings hearing or out in their line of sight.
The three Elves saw the rearguard of the contingent and they knew somewhere in that slow procession were the two prisoners who could be the riders they saw ahead of them, a few days ago.
The elves also knew these weren't the only Dunlending group they have to contend with. The other group was behind them but hasn't moved out just yet.
That second Dunlending contingent watched the three Elven riders passed through their look out points. Emboldened that it was only three Elf riders and not an army, the leader of the second group thought of boxing-in their prey before it was too late for them to escape.
Orgar, leader of the second group snorted with delight at the plan he had thought up and having elf riders their additional prime catch burned his anticipation to a higher level. He could not wait.
With a guttural signal to his men, Orgar led his group out in the open. It was a full Dunlending company and with a shout they charged at their prey.
The three elves simultaneously glanced behind them and saw the cloud of dusts rising in the air, marked by the approaching second group.
Himandel cast another grim look at the contingent of Dunlendings that was hot on their tracks. Although he knew they were far out from the pursuing group to cause any harm on them, it did not quell his anxiety.
A rapid flutter of wings directed his attention above his head and saw a crebain flying passed overhead. No doubt carrying information of their whereabouts and a call to mount up to close in at their prospective captives.
Himandel can not allow that to happen. Before he could get his bow, the bird fell from its flight with a thud as it hit the ground in front of them. His eyes saw an elven arrow struck clean in the middle of its body. Its wings quiver from the impact.
Ilmelion had to steer his horse slightly to the right so that the animal would miss stomping on the dead bird that was lying on its direct path.
Two pairs of eyes glanced towards Narquelion's direction as he was shouldering his bow.
"I can not let that bird warn the rest of the Dunlendings." He responded dryly after receiving their individual arresting stares.
Himandel chuckled beside Ilmelion. "Sometimes Narquelion, I believe you have a gift to read minds."
The other elf warrior looked at him incredulously but he too soon played along with the jest.
"Nay, friend. I do not wish to be a seer." He told them and the other companions burst into a light laugh before getting serious again.
"Now, that we have given ourselves time, we should do something before," Ilmelion emphasized the last word and nodding ahead of them at the Dunlending group.
"...they realized," continuing on. "...something is indeed afoot."
"We will do something," Himandel repeated with full conviction and took out his bow for battle readiness.
"It is a good day to die." He added and saw Ilmelion's jaw dropped in response to his obvious jest.
Himandel and Narquelion spurred their steeds' forward. Leaving Ilmelion staring at the backs of the other two elves as he shook his head. Lastly, he spurred his own animal to follow them and soon he was riding shoulder to shoulder with the elven guards. He too, readied his bow and managed to see Narquelion affording him an encouraging smile.
The messenger looked ahead of him as the Dunlending rearguard and their spears took solid form. Sometimes, he can not understand the warriors' jesting remarks.
He surely was not afraid if they should not make it in this confrontation, but he was hoping to stay longer here in Middle Earth to serve Lord Elrond. Ah, but if it is your time, then one must accept it. He thought and soon pushed all thoughts at the back of his mind.
Soon, a volley of rapid arrow strikes fell on the rearguard like rain, which left the contingent stunned. Their apparent inaction cost them several more of their men to be cut down from the precise strikes of the Elves, enough for them to cause chaos within the ranks.
Grobin, one of the Dunlending commander shouted an order to his men to guard the captives while taking the rest to meet head on with the Elves that were bold enough take them out. He mounted on his horse and led ten of his men towards the brazen Elves.
He wanted those Elves to be skinned for all their worth. Dark fury shone his eyes, which was equally met by a pair of steely brown eyes that had seen countless of battles more fearsome than this skirmish.
Himandel notched an arrow into his bow and released it. The speed of his actions was lost to Grobin when he was suddenly unseated from his horse and stared up at the late afternoon sky from the ground. His last fading memory was that his throat seemed to have constricted and a sharp pain erupted in his head.
Behind him, he did not see his men falter on their own mounts as the archers continued raining them with arrows. Soon more men fell from their horses.
One Dunlending took one last glance at Grobin's body with an arrow sticking out from his throat. The man gulped as his head turned from side to side and saw the fate of his comrades. All dead lying on the ground. He was about to turn around unfortunately; he too was struck down.
Erben squinted at his fallen men. His lips drew to a fine line.
The Elves have easily dealt Grobin and his men and now he glanced around at the remaining five heads with him. They all stared back at him with fear. They knew they were in no match fighting against the Elves so with a frustrated shout, he led the remaining men away, leaving the captives behind. They dare not bring them to their camp for now.
Avalenne who was watching the battle scene, gasped as the retreating Dunlending brushed her aside. She felt her thighs tightened along the sides of her horse to prevent herself from falling off from the animal to the ground. She did her best to right herself on the saddle despite her arms tied to her sides.
Vanmeare looked sideways. He saw his sister fighting for balance on the saddle. Despite being strapped on the horse she managed to regain her balance. A sigh of relief washed over him when he saw her unharmed and that the Dunlendings have left them. He had heard that there were Elves fighting the Dunlendings and so far with his current position he could not see them.
The sound of hoof beats approaching, was heard.
"Elves." Avalenne told her a brother as she gazed at him before directing her gaze back at the visitors.
"We came to rescue both of you," Narquelion called out while holding up an open palm in a gesture of peace. He brought his horse to a full stop and jumped down from the animal. He quickly strode to the man facing down on the saddle where he took out his dagger and cut through the binds tying the ankles and the wrists. He then helped him seated on the ground.
Vanmeare groaned as his surroundings swam briefly before his eyes and felt his warm blood rapidly feeding his blood-deprived limbs back to its normal routine over his body. He slightly rubbed his aching arms to get his blood circulating.
Himandel guided his horse towards the woman. He in turn, cut through her bindings with his own dagger.
"Thank you," the woman profusely said.
"We should not stay any longer," Ilmelion warned studying the dusty outline of the horizon behind them. The second Dunlending group was still heading towards them at full speed and gaining ground.
Narquelion dropped to one knee to support the man. "Can you ride?" He asked still noticing that the man was having trouble getting his bearings after prolonged position riding on the horse on his stomach.
"Yes," he finally worded out his response and he was soon helped to his feet and onto the horse.
"Thank you, for rescuing us." He said as he gathered the reins and looking at their new companions.
"Come we must leave this place. Soon it will be too dark for us to travel and we must not be caught here." Himandel told the others.
After making sure that the two humans were well enough to take the reins of their respective horses, the five galloped hard for the next several hours before finally entering the Gap of Rohan and crossed the Fords of Isen.
The three Rivendell Elves sat straighter around the campfire they made as they listened to their surroundings. They heard a shriek that was just near the edge of their hearing, which by mortal standards was far superior to any other race. The shriek continued for more than a minute, then, the night was relieved from the hideous call and all was quiet again.
Narquelion drew his cloak closer to his body. He was not cold but there was some eeriness that would not removed itself over the area and continued watching the darkening surroundings.
When finally the loathsome sound was gone, he commented. "Telltale signs of evil is rearing its head in the lands again."
"Aye," Himandel concurred. "The Dark years are yet to come," he spoke as he nudged a piece of wood into the fire. He glanced at Ilmelion. The messenger was abnormally quiet in their travel.
"Is something bothering you, Ilmelion?" asked Himandel.
The messenger wagged his dark-haired head. "I was only thinking of the shriek and what it could mean." He answered.
"Do you think we will encounter Dunlendings as we approach their borders?" Ilmelion asked his companions, shifting their conversation.
"It is possible as we will be passing through their territory," Narquelion replied.
"But Himandel and I," he said with emphasis. " Will make sure Lord Elrond's messenger will make it safe," he said while arching an eyebrow in jest.
A small smile broke on Ilmelion's face. "I am...flattered that you carry me in high regard, Narquelion." Ilmelion remarked with a wry smile on his face but he grew serious again. "I am thinking of the travelers, Himandel saw riding ahead of us." He could not silent the bad feeling tugging at the fringes of his mind.
"Whoever they are, I do hope they are well armed." He said but he knew somehow that his words had truth in them.
Narquelion decided to dispel the foreboding mood around the campfire in fact; it felt like it was still over the plains. The effect of the shriek had not faded or so they have thought. It was indeed clawing towards the three Rivendell folk. It was a shadow aimed to bring down any ray of hope and light in the land.
The elf soon reached inside his tunic, for the short flute that he always carry in his travels. The little instrument was beautifully made with intricate Elvish scripts flourishing around its slender gray-white body. With customary ease, Narquelion's fingers sought the tiny holes on the body of the musical instrument. The polished surface seemed to sparkle that even the under the starlight, the wooden flute gleam in light brilliance. Narquelion brought the instrument close to his lips and began blowing Elvish tunes from it. Songs he remembered in his long life and the melodies began to fill the silence. Soon, the two other elves joined in, singing with their fair voices along with the merry music. The grave feeling that fell on the area retreated, pushed away by the magic of the Elves.
Back in Imladris, Anathea hobbled inside her room. Estel was playing a trick on her that she knew for certain. She couldn't find the brush she was using a while ago and had a hunch Estel hid it.
"I know you have it Estel," she said as she slowly moved from one trunk to another and leaned over to see if the boy was hiding behind them. No, Estel there. She thought and proceeded to a finely crafted divider in the room. It seemed ages had passed before she reached it and peeked behind the frame. The boy was still not there. Then she heard a snicker coming from behind. She turned around sharply and surveyed the room. Where did that laugh come from? She thought as her mind recalled the sound. As she continued to look around the few places where Estel could have hid, her eyes drifted under her bed. Acting on a hunch, she hobbled back to her bed. It was still clearly an effort on her part to reach the bed. Her chest burned slightly from the strain and found herself heaving for several breaths as she sat at the edge of the bed.
Estel placed his hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud. He enjoyed playing hide-and-seek with Elladan and Elrohir but now, the object of his prank is Anathea. He watched from under her bed as she slowly made her route to the trunks. Then his eyes followed her feet as she walked towards the clothes divider that was at the corner of the room. Soon, he watched them heading towards the bed. He knew his snicker was loud enough to get her attention.
The edge of the bed depresses inward as if a weight was on top of it. He knew Anathea had sat at the foot of the bed. He also could tell from the sounds of her heaving that she was catching her breath.
Then Estel felt his muscles tense and mentally began a count off for his escape and at the exact moment, he rolled away.
Anathea quickly drop to her knees and scanned under bed. She found no one underneath. She let out an exasperated breath; Estel was making it hard for her.
"Estel," she called from the floor.
"What?" The boy answered innocently from above her. Startled, Anathea looked on top of the bed. He was not there.
"Up here." The boy said from above.
Anathea followed the voice and saw Estel hugging the wooden female statue that was at the head of her bed. The girl slowly stood up.
"Estel!" She said in surprise and noted with admiration the easy movements of the boy as he pushed away from statue. Apparently, Estel used the intricate wooden struts behind the statue for support so, as not to sit on the statue's fragile arms or else he would surely break them under his weight. He flopped on the middle of her the bed, smiling.
The corners of Anathea's mouth curled a little for a coming smile as she remembered Estel hugging the statue. It looked funny but since he quickly sprang away from the statue, it seems less hilarious now.
"Looking for this?" Estel handed her the brush, which the girl was searching for a while ago.
"You could have injured yourself, Estel." Anathea slightly admonishes. Estel wagged his head. "No, I wouldn't." He told her with confidence and bounded off from the bed and headed to the door.
"Would you like to join me the day after tomorrow for a visit of the grounds?" Estel offered.
The girl's face brightened. "I would love that."
"Good, see you then." Estel gave her a small wave and left the room.
Anathea couldn't imagine the boy's exuberant energy since the little game easily made her tired. It's probably because of my wounds. She mused and slowly walked towards the balcony and watched the Elves passing under the trees from a distance. She noted with curiosity that they seemed to glow within themselves and by watching them she found them to have a calming effect on her. She hang her head over the railing, her chest braced against frame and let her arm sway languidly as if imagining some invisible water in a pond and was immediately lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear the first knock by the door frame.
Another soft knock shook her out from her reverie and Anathea turned around. She saw a smiling Elrohir by the doorway.
"I came by to see how you are, Anathea," the elf said as he strode into her room.
"I'm just..." pausing a little when a recollection of the brief game with Estel came to her mind.
"Catching my breath," she finally said.
Elrohir stood beside her and cast a puzzled look.
"Estel, was here a while ago and he played a game by hiding my brush that I knew he had with him all along," she explained after seeing Elrohir's questioning glance.
"Ah," Elrohir grins with understanding coming over his fair countenance. "He is fun of doing that." He said.
Anathea momentarily felt herself staring at the towering elf and was in awe to be standing beside him. Her eyes traced the elegant lines of his clothes clearly marking him as from one of royalty. But she noted something else, a sadness?
Elrohir turned to regard the little girl and had a feeling she was going to say something next so he waited for her to speak her mind.
"Elrohir, what did you say to me when we were riding away from the Ford?" she asked, curious. She had been dreaming of an image since the day she was rescued by the Elves and she wanted to know.
The elf placed his hand on the girl's head and was touched by her innocence. He knelt on one knee so he could be at eye level with the girl.
"I said was, 'to stay with the light'," he replied and watched the girl.
"Can you say it again? The same way you said it to me." The girl's brows furrowed a little as if she was remembering too the words.
Again, Elrohir looked puzzled at the request but granted it and spoke to her in Elvish.
The girl's eyes grew wide in wonder as she heard the different language. "It's beautiful." She breathlessly said.
"In your time you will hear more languages, Anathea." Elrohir predicted.
The girl grew quiet again and looked away from him. "I missed them, Elrohir," she said out right.
Elrohir gave the little girl a comforting embrace, as he knew whom she was speaking of. There was a bleak sadness passing over her face that he failed to see.
"I wish the hurt will disappear. I don't want it." She continued while her voice broke a little. Anathea arms tighten around Elrohir's neck. It was the child's way of seeking comfort from the unending pain that seems to keep on repeating inside her mind.
"We are here, Anathea." Elrohir said gently and began stroking Anathea's back hoping to calm the girl, guessing that Anathea was about to cry at any moment. But it did not come, somehow. Instead, it was replaced with a long sigh until the girl drew herself away from him.
"Thank you for saving my life. I realized I haven't thanked you at all." Anathea felt shamefaced.
Elrohir wagged his head as if to say it was not necessary. "I am glad we were there to help." Elrohir replied and gave the little girl a comforting smile. He tucked away a strand of hair behind her ear when a breeze swept into the room and gazed at the small sad hazel green eyes. Wishing he could give her all the comfort the child needed.
Anathea felt her face breaking into a smile and soon sat down on the floor. She felt at peace and contented that she didn't know how it came.
Elrohir followed suit beside her and together the elf and the human girl shared stories under the moon radiating its light down on them.
***************
Two more days had passed in their journey to Gondor when Ilmelion, with two of his companions, found numerous hoof tracks on the ground. They were already in Dunland and their elven senses were heightened and have detected a second Dunlending group hiding out by the boulders, just a furlong away.
Staying close to each other, they continued on their travel and a sight of a dead horse warned them of an ambush and more hoof prints.
Narquelion hopped off from his steed and strode near the dead horse. A long spear had stabbed close the animal's heart.
"Dunlendings." The elf reported as he recognized the weapon-make. He remounted his horse when Ilmelion spoke.
"Just as I feared. The travelers have been waylaid." The messenger said.
"Come then," Himandel urged the two. "Let us see if we can at least even the odds."
**********
Wrists and ankles bound and draped on the horse like packed stores, Vanmeare glared at his 'new' captors. Dunlendings have captured them and in their grim haste they had not taken into account that these people were watching their borders too intently. Vanmeare and Avalenne had hoped they would pass the land without incident. Unfortunately, it was clearly not the case.
Vanmeare struggled with his binds while coughing out the dust that rose from the horse's stride to his throat. He was thrown at the back of the horse facing the ground making his chest and stomach pound against the saddle. Despite only walking in a slow procession, it hasn't eased the ache on Vanmeare's bruised chest. He knew that traveling this way even made the prisoners wearier. He hoped his sister was faring better than he was. The thoughts about her intruded into his mind since he couldn't see what happened to her after they were separated. He hoped that she was in the same group as he was.
Vanmeare knew they were all heading to the Dunlendings camp. He also knew that they were loosing precious hours again. Frustration nagged him like a sore thumb that would not go away.
He took a deep breath in hopes that it would relieve his already throbbing temples caused by the pressure of his blood not circulating properly through out his body. It might have been more than an hour being in the same position since his arms have also grown numbed too.
Unknown to them, the slow pace of the Dunlendings provided ample time for the Elven riders to catch up with them. With barely a half a league ahead from the Dunlending group, Ilmelion, Himandel and Narquelion increased their distance yet keeping a discrete space just out from the Dunlendings hearing or out in their line of sight.
The three Elves saw the rearguard of the contingent and they knew somewhere in that slow procession were the two prisoners who could be the riders they saw ahead of them, a few days ago.
The elves also knew these weren't the only Dunlending group they have to contend with. The other group was behind them but hasn't moved out just yet.
That second Dunlending contingent watched the three Elven riders passed through their look out points. Emboldened that it was only three Elf riders and not an army, the leader of the second group thought of boxing-in their prey before it was too late for them to escape.
Orgar, leader of the second group snorted with delight at the plan he had thought up and having elf riders their additional prime catch burned his anticipation to a higher level. He could not wait.
With a guttural signal to his men, Orgar led his group out in the open. It was a full Dunlending company and with a shout they charged at their prey.
The three elves simultaneously glanced behind them and saw the cloud of dusts rising in the air, marked by the approaching second group.
Himandel cast another grim look at the contingent of Dunlendings that was hot on their tracks. Although he knew they were far out from the pursuing group to cause any harm on them, it did not quell his anxiety.
A rapid flutter of wings directed his attention above his head and saw a crebain flying passed overhead. No doubt carrying information of their whereabouts and a call to mount up to close in at their prospective captives.
Himandel can not allow that to happen. Before he could get his bow, the bird fell from its flight with a thud as it hit the ground in front of them. His eyes saw an elven arrow struck clean in the middle of its body. Its wings quiver from the impact.
Ilmelion had to steer his horse slightly to the right so that the animal would miss stomping on the dead bird that was lying on its direct path.
Two pairs of eyes glanced towards Narquelion's direction as he was shouldering his bow.
"I can not let that bird warn the rest of the Dunlendings." He responded dryly after receiving their individual arresting stares.
Himandel chuckled beside Ilmelion. "Sometimes Narquelion, I believe you have a gift to read minds."
The other elf warrior looked at him incredulously but he too soon played along with the jest.
"Nay, friend. I do not wish to be a seer." He told them and the other companions burst into a light laugh before getting serious again.
"Now, that we have given ourselves time, we should do something before," Ilmelion emphasized the last word and nodding ahead of them at the Dunlending group.
"...they realized," continuing on. "...something is indeed afoot."
"We will do something," Himandel repeated with full conviction and took out his bow for battle readiness.
"It is a good day to die." He added and saw Ilmelion's jaw dropped in response to his obvious jest.
Himandel and Narquelion spurred their steeds' forward. Leaving Ilmelion staring at the backs of the other two elves as he shook his head. Lastly, he spurred his own animal to follow them and soon he was riding shoulder to shoulder with the elven guards. He too, readied his bow and managed to see Narquelion affording him an encouraging smile.
The messenger looked ahead of him as the Dunlending rearguard and their spears took solid form. Sometimes, he can not understand the warriors' jesting remarks.
He surely was not afraid if they should not make it in this confrontation, but he was hoping to stay longer here in Middle Earth to serve Lord Elrond. Ah, but if it is your time, then one must accept it. He thought and soon pushed all thoughts at the back of his mind.
Soon, a volley of rapid arrow strikes fell on the rearguard like rain, which left the contingent stunned. Their apparent inaction cost them several more of their men to be cut down from the precise strikes of the Elves, enough for them to cause chaos within the ranks.
Grobin, one of the Dunlending commander shouted an order to his men to guard the captives while taking the rest to meet head on with the Elves that were bold enough take them out. He mounted on his horse and led ten of his men towards the brazen Elves.
He wanted those Elves to be skinned for all their worth. Dark fury shone his eyes, which was equally met by a pair of steely brown eyes that had seen countless of battles more fearsome than this skirmish.
Himandel notched an arrow into his bow and released it. The speed of his actions was lost to Grobin when he was suddenly unseated from his horse and stared up at the late afternoon sky from the ground. His last fading memory was that his throat seemed to have constricted and a sharp pain erupted in his head.
Behind him, he did not see his men falter on their own mounts as the archers continued raining them with arrows. Soon more men fell from their horses.
One Dunlending took one last glance at Grobin's body with an arrow sticking out from his throat. The man gulped as his head turned from side to side and saw the fate of his comrades. All dead lying on the ground. He was about to turn around unfortunately; he too was struck down.
Erben squinted at his fallen men. His lips drew to a fine line.
The Elves have easily dealt Grobin and his men and now he glanced around at the remaining five heads with him. They all stared back at him with fear. They knew they were in no match fighting against the Elves so with a frustrated shout, he led the remaining men away, leaving the captives behind. They dare not bring them to their camp for now.
Avalenne who was watching the battle scene, gasped as the retreating Dunlending brushed her aside. She felt her thighs tightened along the sides of her horse to prevent herself from falling off from the animal to the ground. She did her best to right herself on the saddle despite her arms tied to her sides.
Vanmeare looked sideways. He saw his sister fighting for balance on the saddle. Despite being strapped on the horse she managed to regain her balance. A sigh of relief washed over him when he saw her unharmed and that the Dunlendings have left them. He had heard that there were Elves fighting the Dunlendings and so far with his current position he could not see them.
The sound of hoof beats approaching, was heard.
"Elves." Avalenne told her a brother as she gazed at him before directing her gaze back at the visitors.
"We came to rescue both of you," Narquelion called out while holding up an open palm in a gesture of peace. He brought his horse to a full stop and jumped down from the animal. He quickly strode to the man facing down on the saddle where he took out his dagger and cut through the binds tying the ankles and the wrists. He then helped him seated on the ground.
Vanmeare groaned as his surroundings swam briefly before his eyes and felt his warm blood rapidly feeding his blood-deprived limbs back to its normal routine over his body. He slightly rubbed his aching arms to get his blood circulating.
Himandel guided his horse towards the woman. He in turn, cut through her bindings with his own dagger.
"Thank you," the woman profusely said.
"We should not stay any longer," Ilmelion warned studying the dusty outline of the horizon behind them. The second Dunlending group was still heading towards them at full speed and gaining ground.
Narquelion dropped to one knee to support the man. "Can you ride?" He asked still noticing that the man was having trouble getting his bearings after prolonged position riding on the horse on his stomach.
"Yes," he finally worded out his response and he was soon helped to his feet and onto the horse.
"Thank you, for rescuing us." He said as he gathered the reins and looking at their new companions.
"Come we must leave this place. Soon it will be too dark for us to travel and we must not be caught here." Himandel told the others.
After making sure that the two humans were well enough to take the reins of their respective horses, the five galloped hard for the next several hours before finally entering the Gap of Rohan and crossed the Fords of Isen.