Chapter 4
Lindil had unwound Mithlach's bandage to check her wound. It was healing well he told her and wrapped it afresh. She had worried him that morning when she climbed out of the tree she had been sleeping in and suddenly collapsed on the ground. She refused to let him or the others help her up and lay for a while staring at the clouds before getting up herself with a smile, standing very straight and walking purposefully towards the pot from last night where they had kept the left over meat from their supper. She seemed amused when he asked to check her wound but as all was well there was naught to worry about.
He only just finished tying the bandage when Mithlach suddenly turned her head towards the forest. She stood up and drew her sword and with great calm she said,
"I am needed."
The dwarves immediately collected their things but Mithlach had already been enveloped by the darkness under the trees and was soon out of sight. Lindil followed her but could not find her, though he did find a voice in the air, crying out for help. Giving up his search for Mithlach he followed the cry instead. It certainly was not Mithlach but he guessed that she had heard it and was looking for its source herself.
Dodging through the thick slimy branches he could hear the dwarves trudging along at some distance behind him. He grit his teeth and silently cursed their lumbering ways for it made it harder to hear the voice. He gained speed angrily and soon was far enough from the dwarves, and close enough to the source of the cries to finally find it.
He suddenly saw, not far ahead, a willowy elf-maiden; clad in green, with her long fair hair framing her frightened face, shrinking against the tree behind her. She screamed in terror for before her, tall and as black as darkness was a giant creature with many shiny eyes and many spindly legs. The elf-maiden held a dagger in her hand but knew it was no match for the giant spider drooling in anticipation of eating her.
Lindil lost no time in aiming an arrow at it and shooting. The arrow went deep into its body and the creature wailed piercingly in agony. But it was not dead and would have jumped at the elf had a sword, almost as black as itself, not swung out of the gloom and killed it with a horrid squelch.
Lindil went towards the elf to comfort her. She was pale still but calm as she looked from him to Mithlach who was also approaching her.
"Thank you," she said to them both, "But..."
She pointed up and they saw two small bundles of web wiggling on the higher branches of a tree. Mithlach immediately proceeded to climb the tree and cut them down while Lindil caught each one by one and the female elf gingerly cut open the bundles with her own dagger.
Elf children emerged from them, pale and weeping. Their mother, for that is who she was, held them close and wept for joy herself.
"Thank you," she said again, through her tears, "I am Tatharien. Who are you?"
"I am Lindil of Rivendell," replied the elf, "And this is…"
"Ohtarwen," replied Mithlach.
Tatharien looked closer at her curiously and looked as if she would ask her
something but instead she bid them follow her as she explained how her children
had been playing and gone astray when the giant spider had caught them and she
had run after it. It was unexpected, she explained; for much of Mirkwood had been free of fell creatures and few lurked
among the trees, especially near where the wood-elves were establishing new
homes.
As they followed her, the gloom seemed to melt into the ground and lose itself
under the springy green grass and flowers could be seen above them peeking
cheekily out from behind the leaves. A sweet fragrance filled the air and soon
soft singing was heard in the distance.
Ahead of them many elves were sitting around a long table enjoying supper. Twas not till then that Mithlach remembered the dwarves and glanced behind her as if she expected them to be there. Not surprisingly, they weren't.
The elves looked up at the strangers and there was a single silent moment as they took in what they saw. Tatharien quickly explained what had happened. The stern elf at the head of the table listened to her patiently before turning back to the strangers. Mithlach could not help feeling that his gaze rested on her for longer. He looked as curiously at her as Tatharien had. He invited the two to join them at the table and all praised them. As they ate, several elves stared at Mithlach and soon she discovered why.
"We have had many visitors," the elf at the head of the table said quietly to Mithlach, "Tell me, do you also come from Dol Amroth?"
"Yes," replied Mithlach, her eyes aglow, "Who has visited you? Was it anyone by the name of Himthol?"
"That name is unknown to me," he said to her considerable disappointment, "They were messengers from the Prince looking for a young maiden. A young maiden with dark curls and blue-grey eyes. A maiden in possession of a red gem."
His eyes rested on Mithlach's ring as she held a goblet to her lips to drink. She put down the goblet and asked him if he knew what that message was. Unfortunately, he did not know. Mithlach ran her finger around the rim of the goblet and glanced once at Lindil, who was talking merrily with an old friend, and then back at the elf she had been speaking to.
"Do you know where they are now?" she asked softly.
"The people of Dale remembered you, Ohtarwen, and directed them towards Erebor where they had seen you go last."
"Then I too must go there," she said and smiled at him, "You are very good. I thank you for your kindness to a stranger who is not of your folk. It is not much seen in this world of late. But I must leave your hospitality and find my own kin."
"Very understandable."
"But first I must find a few mislaid friends."
"Perhaps I can help you."
"My friends are three dwarves."
"Then assuredly I can help you," he said and laughed.
He spoke to an elf on his other side and told him to bring forth the prisoners. The 'prisoners' soon arrived grumbling and glaring. One looked especially glum for although dwarves' beards were often ridiculed by merry elves, his strangely shortened beard caused a great deal more merriment and even now when the glance of an elf at the table fell on him a great deal of laughter ensued.
"My poor friends," said Mithlach kneeling before them, "Where did you get to?"
"Where did we get to?" repeated Sarin in a huff, "Where did you get to? We were captured by elves quite typically, and unjustly," he added.
"Trespassers are all held prisoners unless they reveal their reason for trespassing and it is an acceptable one," said the elf-guard.
"I think I shall kick you," said Corin as if he had been deciding whether or not to for a while.
The elf sneered at him and was sent away by the elf in charge to prevent any violence from breaking out.
"We were helping a lady in need of help," said Mithlach, "And now we must hurry back to Erebor."
"Well I'm glad of that," said Sarin, "Let us leave immediately."
Lindil had been watching them and now stood
beside Mithlach.
"Why must we hurry?" he asked and did not fail to notice the grimace Corin made when he said 'we'.
"Messengers from my home are searching for me. They are said to be in Erebor," said Mithlach, "I do not want to miss them by lingering here too long."
Thus, they were soon on their way north-east towards the lonely mountain after bidding the wood-elves goodbye. Lindil felt reluctant to leave. He missed talking to others in his own tongue and more than that he missed Nimril. He wondered where she was and if she was thinking of him. There was so much that he wanted to tell her about already. As they walked under the starlit night he wondered what was stopping him from turning back now. Was it truly just curiosity that led him to follow this mysterious ranger? Or did he still suspect her? He knew not himself.
Yet he did know that he had a strange fondness for her company and enjoyed never knowing what she would do or say next. With Nimril he felt constantly concerned for her happiness and safety but with Mithlach he knew she could take care of herself. He could not say that he liked her independence for it unnerved him and he did not understand it.
She was almost like a daughter but different somehow. He suddenly realised with considerable astonishment that he saw her in the light of a friend. And she was so different from any other friend he had ever had that he wanted to spend time with her. Even though the world grew old before his bright eyes he did not mind the days he spent in it with his friend.
Now, if she found the messengers she would no longer need him. The thought troubled him slightly but he put it aside and instead brought up something else that had been nagging at the back of his mind.
"Ohtarwen?"
Mithlach turned to look at him.
"Yes?" she said.
"Is that your name then? Is that the name I should call you by?"
She smiled somewhat ruefully.
"No. As it happens it is not my true name and I would prefer you to call me Mithlach."
"How come you by this name?"
"When I first got to Dale, the people were under attack from orcs and so I did my best to help them. They have never seen a woman in battle and were quite astonished. As they did not know my name during the battle they would call me warrior-maiden and so when it was over and they asked my name I said Ohtarwen."
"Do you speak elvish?" he asked hopefully.
"I am afraid I know very little of your fair speech. I was taught some as a child but I have forgotten much."
"And dwarvish?"
She laughed.
"None at all. I do not know any but dwarves who can understand it or speak it well."
"Look at the moon," said Merin of a sudden, "Does he not shine brightly tonight, yet he is not full."
They all looked up suddenly. They were no longer under the shadow of the trees. A canopy of stars shone down on them as they walked towards the lonely mountain. Lindil felt his heart grow light and he felt that it mattered not how long he a time he spent in those ageing lands for when he departed from the Havens he would forever be with Nimril and his kindred.
He began to sing a song on these very thoughts and though Mithlach knew not what he sang she felt a sudden longing to be with her own people and a joy rising in her heart in expectation of seeing them. Her grandparents house where she lived with her brother, the neighbours' children playing merrily in the streets, the deep-grey sea stretching as far as the eye could see and the salty sea air in her nostrils.
An archway appeared before them over an open stone door leading into the heart of the mountain. Lindil stopped to admire the delicate carvings and Mithlach stopped also to see the wonder in his face so Sarin led his brothers on ahead.
"There is such light from inside," said Lindil.
"Did you think dwarves lived in darkness?" asked Mithlach, "Come."
They entered brightly lit halls of stone where dwarves were seen carrying away and cleaning up after a feast, singing songs that felt brash on Lindil's ears. Merin gestured to them to follow him into one of the rooms.
Inside it, a man stood dressed as a messenger but with a helm on his head from which protruded a single white swan feather, as white as snow, glistening in the lamplight. He stood with his back to them but turned when he heard Mithlach's hopeful voice utter,
"Himthol?"
