Aha… yes, well, because of one of my grades these chapters will probably only be coming out only once a week on the weekends. Sorry, but I need to get the grade up. =/

~Hoshiko

The Road to Mirkwood

The hobbits were awoken early the next morning by Froin, who had offered to do so. Param and Terry grumbled, but stood sleepily and put their things in their packs. Brom woke up and made a fast, but large breakfast, and when the sun, hidden by dark clouds, gave as much light as it was allowed, they started out.

The wind whipped harshly around them, and it stung their eyes and noses. The hobbits did not say a word, but they soon could not feel their toes. The group plowed through the waist-deep snow, the hobbits being carried by Dweller and Teredon.

No one complained, but everyone could feel another presence with them, dark and evil. The Ring was becoming more powerful in the time of despair, and it beckoned them all, even Relnik. On the air was also the foul voice of another evil force. They all guessed it was Lonel, and their suspicions were proven correct when the whole mountain started to quake.

'Lonel!' Teredon cried, the hobbits clinging harder to him. 'He is doing as he had before! He will defeat us!' He said, though Brendalin shook his head.

'He cannot prevail, this time!' Brendalin called back, and they kept going, despite the shaking ground. After a few more hours, Relnik pointed ahead of them, though the snow.

'The end of the pass is near, I can see it!' he cried through the wind, and Brendalin nodded.

'Yes, you are correct, we must go on!' he said, trudging forward, but suddenly was thrown against the wall, along with the others. The quaking took a violent increase, and they cowared against the wall. Nothing happened, though, and the quaking ceased totally. The hobbits breathed a sigh of relief, though Brendalin looked around in suspicion.

'Nothing's happened!' Param said in delighted surprise.

'No… it seems it hasn't…' Brendalin said, and took one last look around. When he decided all was all right, they continued on. The snow eventually ceased as well, and when they finally reached the end of the pass, Brendalin frowned at what he found in front of him. A part of the cliff face had sheared off and dropped into the valley below, blocking the way to the south. The side was too shear climb, and too high to lower themselves down. Everyone else saw this, too and Ondril frowned.

'How will we get to the south?' he asked, and Dweller shook her head.

'This is impossible to scale!' she cried, and Brendalin nodded.

'Lonel has done this.' He said, and looked down at the Pass' trail, which led to the bottom. 'We must climb down the mountain now, before I can decide on what to do.' He said gravely, and they started their decent, hearts heavy. The decent was steeper than the ascent, and they reached the bottom at the last lights of day, where they stopped to make camp. Brendalin immediately sat down and started to ponder what they might do. They made camp next to him, and while he thought they ate dinner, and at the end he stood.

'We must go through the old forest of Mirkwood.' He said, and Froin's fork dropped from her hand. They had not expected to hear of his decision, and this one was not to their liking, especially to a dwarf.

'Mirkwood?' she repeated, eyes darting in it's direction. 'The place that used to be full elves?'

'Yes, it was many years ago. Is there something wrong with elves?' Relnik asked, and she shook her head.

'No, elves are fair enough, but the creatures that dwell in it now are not!' she said, and Param stopped eating to listen to her. 'I have family under the mountains in that forest, and strange things can be found in it. Giant spiders that will suck your blood, wargs, orcs, and even…' her eyes darted to it again, 'Ondors.' She said, and Param shook his head.

'Ondors? Aren't they great, stallion like creatures with horns?' he asked and she shook her head.

'I do not speak of the ones of the Shire tales. These are as black as night, with red, glaring eyes, and foaming mouths. They are blood-thirsty, and rutheless, as big as Balrogs. It has the body of a man, and the legs of a horse. They say there is one in the old forest, haunting the trees, looking for fresh blood.' She said, and a shiver ran down Param's spine.

'We have no choice!' Brendalin interrupted, and shook his head. 'The rock's face is too shear to scale, and we cannot go around it.'

'When will we reach the forest?' Dweller asked, and Brendalin looked ahead of them again, taking out his pipe.

'By the end of two days time' he said, and all nodded, some going back to dinner. Param, on the other hand, sat and starred into the fire. The story of the Ondor seemed to have frightened the hunger out of him. He eventually fell asleep onto Terry and the next day he seemed to have forgotten it.

They awoke the next day and Brom cooked breakfast as usual. When they had eaten everything was packed and they started on the old road to the old forest of Mirkwood. By the end of the day a strange darkness loomed in front of them, and though it looked dark, Relnik smiled.

'The forest was once a great elven-home of the Silvan folk. They were ruled by Thranduil and his wife, and it was home of Legolas, the son of Thranduil. He was the elf of the first fellowship, and after the War of the Ring it became a place where dwarves and elves could meet together in peace, following after Legolas and Gimli.' He said, but the smile from his lips left. He was always interested in the old forest, and had read many books on it. 'After a great while, when most of the elves had left the dwarves took to the mountains in the woods and the forest itself fell back into black powers. Now the trees are old, with spiders lurking in their depths. It is really unknown of what happens in side it, for if the dwarves leave their mines, they do so through the side of the mountains near the edge of the forest.' He said, and fell silent. No one spoke for a great while until his voice could again be heard, this time in song.

O! Mirkwood, fair be thee

Your trees are hearts of green

O! Peace within your borders

Where Elves did dwell

Nothing good now, everything fell

O! To many you were home

To warm the heart and heal the bone

O! Where did you go?

A different world is weaved

For now your heart is of brown leave

Come back to us

O home of old

Fair be those that your stories told

Long ago, in an age of old

Where fair be those of stories told

He sang it at first in Quenya, then in the Common tongue, as closely as he could match it, and sighed. 'That is the old song of the forest, telling of the sadness that many Nandi elves felt when they heard of it's demise.' He said, and fell silent again.

Mirkwood loomed in front of them like an endless pit of darkness. They had been able to see it's borders sense midday, and now it seemed more threatening than before. It was near night, and Brendalin stopped them before they became too close to the border.

'We must stop now for the night, I do not want to go into the forest just yet.' He said, and they stopped, setting up camp quickly. They made the fire in the same fashion, and all huddled around the welcoming light. Froin would every so often look at the dark forest ahead of them and shiver.

They ate quietly, and slept quietly, Froin and Relnik offering to keep watch. They did so with constant guard, Froin jumping a slight bit at some noises. Relnik saw her reaction, and suddenly laughed, his voice rather deep for an elf.

'You, Mistress Dwarf, need to calm yourself.' He said and she looked at him, annoyed. 'Mirkwood is not all danger, not in a place where the Silvan elves had one dwelt.'

'I am not frightened, I'm just careful. You seem to only remember the days of the elves in that forest, but I know of the days of the dwarves.' She said, voice rather bitter. This took him by slight surprise, though not much, and his face grew cold.

'I know of the enchantments that are still there.'

'You know of the enchantments that have been gone for a very long time. I know of what dwells there, Master Elf, and it is not fair beings with golden hair. My cousin Loin lives in the mountains under that forest, and he's seen what happens at night, when the darkness grows blacker than any darkness you have ever seen.' She said, and looked at it. 'They say if you look into it for too long from the outside you can see the dangers inside. Believe it or not, I have a foreboding of stepping foot in the place. Elves are not the only ones with foresight, Master Elf.' She said, and he fell silent. He held much pride for his race, and this hit him rather hard. To keep his dignity he did not reply, but instead looked out into the darkness beyond the camp.

The others awoke the next morning, and Brom put breakfast together. Their supplies were starting to run low, and they ate slowly, to fill their stomachs more. Brom looked wearily in his pack, and shook his head.

'We're running out of food. We're short on meats and vegitables.' He said, and Brendalin nodded.

'Yes, we will need to restock at some point, but we will not be able to for maybe a long while. It is a long and dreary road in Mirkwood, and I dare not go off the Old Road.' He said, and Brom nodded.

'I do wish we had brought more…' he said, and started to clean up the dishes. When everything was packed and ready to go they set out again, entering the dark, dismal forest of Mirkwood.

A shiver ran down everyone's spine as they took their first step into the dark forest. Trees toward over them, bent and old. Their branches bent and twisted like vines, leafless and grey. If there were leaves allowed to grow, they only did so at the top. They blocked most of the sunlight, making it hard to see very far in front of them. It immediately reminded Brom and Ondril of Moria. A Moria of trees.