The bog enveloped them. Immediately the air grew thicker, a billowing
greenish mist that smelled of burnt pitch. It swirled in clammy tendrils
around their ankles. The ground beneath their feet trembled and shifted
precariously as they walked, and when their feet broke through the thick
overlay of rotting vegetation, they sank calf-deep into a viscous glop the
consistency of congealed beef broth. The surrounding vegetation, bone-
white fleshy tubers and squat black mangroves, decorated with slimy, white-
spotted leaves, pressed in around them. The water gave an occasional
unpleasant burp as something slithered in its shadowy depths. The air was
thick with clouds of tiny black insects that swarmed inside their nose and
mouth with every breath. Over all of this lay a pall of such desolation
and despair that they fought to keep from weeping.
"Oh, I fear this is a terrible place, indeed," she said in uneven, tremulous voice. The hand gripping the leather strap of the raft shook with unspoken dread.
"Let us turn back while we are still able, for surely it will get no better," pleaded Telvryn. He looked decidedly green, and she couldn't blame him.
"Wise words indeed, but ones I cannot heed if I am to reach Legolas," she answered, peering into the shadows.
"Much good you will be to him if we arrive in pieces," he mumbled.
Time could not touch the bog. The skeletal tubers and diseased mangroves blotted out all light. Mile after mile, they slogged through the brackish, stinking water. Her gorge, already sensitive from her pregnancy, revolted completely. Gagging and retching, she vomited half a dozen times before they stopped to rest on a lumpy hummock raised above the water. The raft had held up better than expected, but Cerek's hair was coated in a slimy, reeking green liquid. Saryn set about brushing him off as best she could while Telvryn searched for any bit of food not blighted by the bog water. All he found were two small loaves of elven bread.
"I'm afraid this is all we have," he told her, breaking one of the loaves in half and passing it to her.
"But we still have more than five days before we can hope to escape this festering boil upon the face of the earth," she complained, taking an unenthusiastic bite of bread. She wasn't in the least bit hungry. The high, sickly sweet smell of the soupy water would most likely cause her to bring it back up anyway.
"What you say is true, m'lady, but unfortunately, I also speak the truth," he answered calmly. "And mind that you eat it. You need the nourishment."
She sighed and settled back to eat her meager lunch. It tasted like paper as she swallowed, and she grimaced. Her back and legs throbbed from hours of fighting her way across the bog. Her right shoulder hummed and burned from the effort of carrying Cerek nearly twelve miles. She gingerly kneaded it, hoping to ease her discomfort. Elbereth, she hoped he woke up soon. She didn't think she could drag him much longer. Just as she was getting ready to try and sleep for a few short hours, a sudden, stealthy swish in the water caught her attention. Fixing her eyes on the spot, she could just make out the outline of a massive, diamond-shaped head and two bright yellow eyes the size of a grape. A serpent. And if the head was any indication, it was enormous.
She turned to mention the creature to Telvryn, but was violently interrupted by thrashings and whispery screams coming from the raft. They both turned to look. Cerek, who for nearly four days, had lain as still as the dead, was flailing in jerky spasms. His head whipped from side to side, and garbled words and cries were coming from his lips.
Pulse racing, she leaned over and clutched his shoulders, speaking soothing words to calm him. Even in sickness, he is strong, she thought as she wrestled and struggled to hold him on the raft. "Friend," she called, leaning into his face, "it's alright. You are among friends." It did no good. If anything, he writhed harder and faster against her hands. Afraid he would injure himself if he kept thrashing around like that, she moved to sit on him, but just as quickly as the flurry of activity began, it ceased. His rigid limbs relaxed and his head grew still. He looked much as he had for the past four days.
She and Telvryn regarded one another in confusion. "What was that?" she asked after she'd caught her breath.
"I do not know. Perhaps he dreams. Whatever it may be, it bodes well for him. Now we can be sure we have not been tending to a corpse. Rest now. In an hour, we move out again."
The hour passed all too soon. No sooner had she closed her eyes than it was time to open them again. She rose, stiff and sore. Their companion had not stirred, she saw. She reached down to grab the leather strap of the raft, but Telvryn stopped her.
"No," he said sternly, "I will pull him. You have pulled him far too long already. Besides, you will need your strength. The water grows much deeper from here on out."
He was right. Beyond the pitiable shelter of their slushy hummock, the water rose considerably. She reluctantly handed over the reins of the raft and stepped of the tiny island. She was instantly up to her neck in the cold, black muck. The smell of putrid vegetation and rotting fish was much stronger now. It stung her nostrils and made her eyes well with tears. Her long-suffering stomach once again grew mutinous.
The bog was even more menacing at night. Black as pitch, the only light came from the bulbous, luminescent white eyes of the gray eels as they glided through the water. They were swimming blind now, relying solely upon their instincts to guide them. Wispy, clutching reeds grasped at her feet, make her shriek in momentary terror, visions of the mammoth serpent she'd glimpsed earlier flitting across her mind. She debated telling Telvryn of what she'd seen, but decided against it. No use worrying him unnecessarily. The creature was likely miles away by now.
"How much farther?" she asked. She hated to whine, but she was beyond exhaustion. Her eyes stung with weariness. Her vision doubled, then trebled as she swam doggedly through the freezing mire.
"Not far now," came the groggy response. "You'll know we're there when you can feel the bottom again."
She paddled along in a daze, fighting to stay awake and keep her head above water. She'd never felt such bone-deep weariness before. Life with Legolas was a tranquil routine of cooking, cleaning, tending to the garden, tending to his needs, and maintaining an air of polite civility toward the king at the occasional royal ball. None of those things had prepared her for what she was now enduring. Her body screamed in protest. Joints howled, muscles and tendons sang, her muddled mind reeled in a confused fog. Not for the first time, she cursed King Thranduil.
Then, blessedly, her feet scraped the tenuous bottom of the bog. At last she would be able to collapse on the undulating surface of a hummock and drift into a few precious hours of dreamless sleep. But as she stepped toward the fuzzy outline of the ever-nearing fragment of solid ground, something curled around her foot. Trying to shake it loose, she jiggled her foot. Nothing happened. She tugged harder. Still no give. I've never encountered such a tenacious reed bef- An ominous realization struck her. This wasn't a reed. Reeds didn't tighten their grip. "Sna-," was all she had time to scream before she was pulled beneath the blackness.
The bog washed over her like a perverse baptism, the thick sludge rendering her deaf and dumb. She could not see that Telvryn was frantically splashing about above her, trying desperately to retrieve her from the depths. She saw only darkness. She struggled against the lithe coil wrapped around her lower leg, but it was no use. She was too weak to fight. Each movement brought a corresponding tightening from the creature. It was like a vise.
Gradually, her struggles lessened as her lungs began to fail. Her arms and legs relaxed, and her mind, pulling itself away from the imminence of its own demise, filled with a happy vision. She and Legolas racing across the plains outside of Mirkwood on their magnificent stallions, the wind in their faces as they laughingly, lovingly challenged each other to races to one point or another. The fluid, constant gliding of the horses as mile after mile of grassland fell away behind them, and the breathless kisses to the victor. You'll never fee-
She never got to finish the thought. Just as she was about to taste the lips of death, she was jerked from the water with such force that the back of her sentry's uniform gave way with a wet purr. She couldn't believe she was still alive. She was too stunned to draw breath. Then she took a great, whooping gasp of air. She coughed, expelling a jet of vile black water.
When her eyes focused at last, she found herself staring into a pair of bright green eyes.
"You," he said.
Their companion had awakened.
"Oh, I fear this is a terrible place, indeed," she said in uneven, tremulous voice. The hand gripping the leather strap of the raft shook with unspoken dread.
"Let us turn back while we are still able, for surely it will get no better," pleaded Telvryn. He looked decidedly green, and she couldn't blame him.
"Wise words indeed, but ones I cannot heed if I am to reach Legolas," she answered, peering into the shadows.
"Much good you will be to him if we arrive in pieces," he mumbled.
Time could not touch the bog. The skeletal tubers and diseased mangroves blotted out all light. Mile after mile, they slogged through the brackish, stinking water. Her gorge, already sensitive from her pregnancy, revolted completely. Gagging and retching, she vomited half a dozen times before they stopped to rest on a lumpy hummock raised above the water. The raft had held up better than expected, but Cerek's hair was coated in a slimy, reeking green liquid. Saryn set about brushing him off as best she could while Telvryn searched for any bit of food not blighted by the bog water. All he found were two small loaves of elven bread.
"I'm afraid this is all we have," he told her, breaking one of the loaves in half and passing it to her.
"But we still have more than five days before we can hope to escape this festering boil upon the face of the earth," she complained, taking an unenthusiastic bite of bread. She wasn't in the least bit hungry. The high, sickly sweet smell of the soupy water would most likely cause her to bring it back up anyway.
"What you say is true, m'lady, but unfortunately, I also speak the truth," he answered calmly. "And mind that you eat it. You need the nourishment."
She sighed and settled back to eat her meager lunch. It tasted like paper as she swallowed, and she grimaced. Her back and legs throbbed from hours of fighting her way across the bog. Her right shoulder hummed and burned from the effort of carrying Cerek nearly twelve miles. She gingerly kneaded it, hoping to ease her discomfort. Elbereth, she hoped he woke up soon. She didn't think she could drag him much longer. Just as she was getting ready to try and sleep for a few short hours, a sudden, stealthy swish in the water caught her attention. Fixing her eyes on the spot, she could just make out the outline of a massive, diamond-shaped head and two bright yellow eyes the size of a grape. A serpent. And if the head was any indication, it was enormous.
She turned to mention the creature to Telvryn, but was violently interrupted by thrashings and whispery screams coming from the raft. They both turned to look. Cerek, who for nearly four days, had lain as still as the dead, was flailing in jerky spasms. His head whipped from side to side, and garbled words and cries were coming from his lips.
Pulse racing, she leaned over and clutched his shoulders, speaking soothing words to calm him. Even in sickness, he is strong, she thought as she wrestled and struggled to hold him on the raft. "Friend," she called, leaning into his face, "it's alright. You are among friends." It did no good. If anything, he writhed harder and faster against her hands. Afraid he would injure himself if he kept thrashing around like that, she moved to sit on him, but just as quickly as the flurry of activity began, it ceased. His rigid limbs relaxed and his head grew still. He looked much as he had for the past four days.
She and Telvryn regarded one another in confusion. "What was that?" she asked after she'd caught her breath.
"I do not know. Perhaps he dreams. Whatever it may be, it bodes well for him. Now we can be sure we have not been tending to a corpse. Rest now. In an hour, we move out again."
The hour passed all too soon. No sooner had she closed her eyes than it was time to open them again. She rose, stiff and sore. Their companion had not stirred, she saw. She reached down to grab the leather strap of the raft, but Telvryn stopped her.
"No," he said sternly, "I will pull him. You have pulled him far too long already. Besides, you will need your strength. The water grows much deeper from here on out."
He was right. Beyond the pitiable shelter of their slushy hummock, the water rose considerably. She reluctantly handed over the reins of the raft and stepped of the tiny island. She was instantly up to her neck in the cold, black muck. The smell of putrid vegetation and rotting fish was much stronger now. It stung her nostrils and made her eyes well with tears. Her long-suffering stomach once again grew mutinous.
The bog was even more menacing at night. Black as pitch, the only light came from the bulbous, luminescent white eyes of the gray eels as they glided through the water. They were swimming blind now, relying solely upon their instincts to guide them. Wispy, clutching reeds grasped at her feet, make her shriek in momentary terror, visions of the mammoth serpent she'd glimpsed earlier flitting across her mind. She debated telling Telvryn of what she'd seen, but decided against it. No use worrying him unnecessarily. The creature was likely miles away by now.
"How much farther?" she asked. She hated to whine, but she was beyond exhaustion. Her eyes stung with weariness. Her vision doubled, then trebled as she swam doggedly through the freezing mire.
"Not far now," came the groggy response. "You'll know we're there when you can feel the bottom again."
She paddled along in a daze, fighting to stay awake and keep her head above water. She'd never felt such bone-deep weariness before. Life with Legolas was a tranquil routine of cooking, cleaning, tending to the garden, tending to his needs, and maintaining an air of polite civility toward the king at the occasional royal ball. None of those things had prepared her for what she was now enduring. Her body screamed in protest. Joints howled, muscles and tendons sang, her muddled mind reeled in a confused fog. Not for the first time, she cursed King Thranduil.
Then, blessedly, her feet scraped the tenuous bottom of the bog. At last she would be able to collapse on the undulating surface of a hummock and drift into a few precious hours of dreamless sleep. But as she stepped toward the fuzzy outline of the ever-nearing fragment of solid ground, something curled around her foot. Trying to shake it loose, she jiggled her foot. Nothing happened. She tugged harder. Still no give. I've never encountered such a tenacious reed bef- An ominous realization struck her. This wasn't a reed. Reeds didn't tighten their grip. "Sna-," was all she had time to scream before she was pulled beneath the blackness.
The bog washed over her like a perverse baptism, the thick sludge rendering her deaf and dumb. She could not see that Telvryn was frantically splashing about above her, trying desperately to retrieve her from the depths. She saw only darkness. She struggled against the lithe coil wrapped around her lower leg, but it was no use. She was too weak to fight. Each movement brought a corresponding tightening from the creature. It was like a vise.
Gradually, her struggles lessened as her lungs began to fail. Her arms and legs relaxed, and her mind, pulling itself away from the imminence of its own demise, filled with a happy vision. She and Legolas racing across the plains outside of Mirkwood on their magnificent stallions, the wind in their faces as they laughingly, lovingly challenged each other to races to one point or another. The fluid, constant gliding of the horses as mile after mile of grassland fell away behind them, and the breathless kisses to the victor. You'll never fee-
She never got to finish the thought. Just as she was about to taste the lips of death, she was jerked from the water with such force that the back of her sentry's uniform gave way with a wet purr. She couldn't believe she was still alive. She was too stunned to draw breath. Then she took a great, whooping gasp of air. She coughed, expelling a jet of vile black water.
When her eyes focused at last, she found herself staring into a pair of bright green eyes.
"You," he said.
Their companion had awakened.