Chapter 8

Ohtar's horse had crushed the undergrowth as it sped away and his path was clearly marked. Finding a stick to lean on Mithlach followed it with Lindil at her side. They were moving swiftly east when they came of a sudden to the river Celduin. Hoof prints were stamped into the mud beside the riverbank but they headed back into the forest.

 "We shall travel no more this night," said Lindil.

 "If we rest now we shall never find him," said Mithlach.

 "He is injured, Mithlach. He cannot get very far."

 "All the more reason to keep going."

 "You do not heal as quickly as you would have me believe. You are weary, I know. The fire in your heart has brought you this far but I deem it would not last for much further. We shall get back your ring, child. Do not fret. But first you must gather your strength."

 "You speak wisely."

 "Do I not always?"

 "No, my friend. Not always."

 Lindil smiled.

 "If you wish, I shall follow the tracks a little to see if Ohtar is anywhere close."

 "And what am I to do?"

 "You are to wash in the Celduin's waters and rest a while beside it. I shall go now. I shan't be long."

 So Lindil disappeared into the woods and Mithlach washed her face, arms and legs in the cool water as it glittered in the starlight. When Lindil returned he found her sitting by the riverside, her boots, gauntlets and jerkin, washed clean of blood, beside her. He gave her a cloak and clothing given to him by a wood elf for her. There was a party of them drawing near and they were about to settle down for a feast.

 "We are welcome to join them," said Lindil.

 "I am hungry yet sleep is dearer to me at this time," replied Mithlach, "But you must not hesitate to join them."

 Yet he did hesitate. He handed her some way bread and watched her thoughtfully as she ate it. Who knew what she would do if he left her. What if she decided to search for Ohtar herself or he found her himself? Seeing the concerned look in his eyes Mithlach smiled.

 "Thank you," she said, "Now why do you wait? I am quite safe here and Ohtar will not return. Do you see that tree yonder overlooking the river? I shall sleep hidden among its roots and nobody will see me."

 She reminded him also of the dagger and sword she had in her possession so at last Lindil left her to ponder over her grievances. Mithlach's sword arm ached horribly and her leg felt raw and stiff. As she changed out of her torn bloodstained clothes into the soft elf clothing her hand throbbed. She knew Lindil was right. Now that she had time to realise it she was wearier than she could admit. Ohtar would pay for what he had done but now she needed rest and the dreams that come with it. She kept her dagger close before finding a comfortable spot between two large roots to settle down. Huddled in the cloak, Mithlach lay down by the river and trailed her fingers over its fast moving surface trying to forget her pain and concentrating instead on the rushing water. How pleasant was its sound and how safe she felt beside it. Closing her eyes she fell into a deep slumber and images came unbidden to her mind.

 She could see the forest but as if from a great height. Far below, just outside of it and to the south, was a cloaked rider looking up at the sky as two flames shot up into the starry dark above. A silver swan glittered at his throat, holding the black cloak about him. Now she could see the rider's face. Young and stern, his eyes of dark grey, the man shook his head and turned his grey horse around.

 "It cannot be," he whispered.

 "Come back," Mithlach heard herself say.

The man looked up and she followed his gaze to see the two flames suspended in the sky but now they fell slowly to the west where a soft light began to grow. The light grew ever brighter until it embraced the sky causing shadows to flee and hide in caves and under trees. Clouds passed quickly overhead in the now blue sky. Mithlach blinked and watched them pass in puzzlement.

 "Lindil?" she said.

 "So you have awakened at last," replied the elf.

 "How long have I been asleep?"

 "Three days."

 Mithlach sat up in surprise and saw the lands swiftly pass by her. She looked up at Lindil who had an oar in his hand.

 "From where did you get this raft?" asked Mithlach.

 Lindil abandoned his oar for the moment and sat down to tell her. The elves he had supped with the night before had helped him build the raft and carry Mithlach into it. They had also provided them with supplies for the journey. Mithlach looked to her left and saw the forest while on her right tall mountains loomed, reaching for the sky.

 "But this is not the river running," said Mithlach.

 "No indeed. 'Tis the great river, Anduin. We carried you through Greenwood along the old forest road to reach it. Ahead of us the Silverlode joins the Anduin. A few boats of Lothlorien are harboured there. Perhaps they will lend us one."

 "How far do you wish to go by river?"

 "It is for you to decide."

 "Did you find no sign of Ohtar?"

 "I did not look for him. If he did not find the others he is now dead."

 Mithlach frowned and looked down at her hands.

 "We shall decide what to do about your ring but first you must eat."

 So Mithlach rolled up her sleeves and complied while Lindil took up his oar to hurry them down the river. Having breakfasted, Mithlach stood up to slip on her jerkin and clasp her belt about her waist. As she did so Lindil noticed that not only had she rolled up her sleeves but her trousers too for the elvish garb was far too big for her and only served to make her appear smaller in stature than before. And with her dark curls about her head she looked so much like a Halfling that Lindil was moved to mirth. When Mithlach ventured to ask him what had made him laugh he only laughed more. So ignoring him, she picked up his sword and attempted to fit it into the sheath of the black sword with very little success. She returned the sword to Lindil amid a fresh burst of mirth which she joined when he was able to tell her the cause of it.

 Once she had bound a fresh bandage around her wounded hand Mithlach wore her gauntlets and took up an oar to row.

 "The knights will not cross the river until they reach the bridge of Osgiliath," said Mithlach, "However, the falls of Rauros prevent us from following the river as far."

 "Do you plan to meet them at Osgiliath or Dol Amroth?"

 "Osgiliath would be my preference but I doubt I shall reach there as they do. Once we lose the raft we shall need horses to keep up with them."

 "Then we proceed to Rohan?"

 "To Rohan."

 As they approached the harbour of Lothlorien Mithlach tied back her curls and drew her hood over her head. A moment later an elf appeared on the bank peering at them curiously. Lindil smiled at the sight of him and hailed him with an elvish greeting to which the elf replied. Lindil tossed him a rope to draw them in and then stepped onto the bank. As Mithlach pulled on her boots and unloaded the raft, the elf spoke to Lindil in his own tongue.

 "I am Engwahith. It is seldom we see travellers on this river. What brings you here and who is your companion?"

 "I am Lindil of Rivendell. I seek to reach Rohan with my friend here who is a ranger. We travel by raft for it is the swiftest way; however the raft is not as steady or swift as a boat. Though it was fashioned by elves of King Thranduil's realm it was made in haste and may not last us our journey."

"Lindil? A name I have heard before from my friend Nuincú. Are you not betrothed to Nimril of Lothlorien, his sister?"

 "Indeed I am."

 "Should you not then be with her in the undying lands?"

 "There is something I must do first. The sooner I get to Rohan, the sooner I can return to Nimril."

 "So you desire from us a boat. You may have it for we no longer have use for them all. Take whichever suits you best and may the Valar look kindly upon you on your journey."

 Lindil related to Mithlach all that had been said and she turned to Engwahith to thank him for his kindness. But after she spoke, Engwahith did not reply but spoke instead to Lindil in elvish.

 "I know not the tongue of men," he said, "What has been said to me?"

 Lindil told him and he smiled at Mithlach then spoke again to Lindil.

 "You are most welcome though it seems odd to me for a fellow elf to be concerned in the lives of mortals when he should be sailing across the seas with his kin. But I shall not speak of it."

 "And yet you have spoken a great deal already, Engwahith," smiled Lindil, "This ranger is my friend and I would not be of my kindred were I inclined to abandon my friends."

 "You need not explain yourself to me, Lindil."

 "No indeed."

 "What did he say?" asked Mithlach.

 "That we are most welcome."

 "And after that?"

 "'Tis of no consequence."

 "Ah. I see you have learnt from me the art of keeping secrets. That boat you are looking at is not at all suitable. We require something lighter like this."

 As they debated over the finer points of the boats in question Mithlach saw a sadness lurking behind Lindil's bright eyes. Being in these lands again the memory of Nimril bestirred an ache in his heart, for Lothlorien was where he had first witnessed her shimmering beauty. Under golden leaved branches she had danced like moonlight upon the sea as he sang for her.

 "Lindil," Mithlach's thoughtful voice broke in upon his thoughts, "Is there no way for you to send word to Nimril?"

 "I would have sent word much sooner had there been a way."

 "Did Engwahith not tell you that her brother was here? Perhaps he could take a message to her."

 The elf's face brightened and he turned to Engwahith and asked him of Nuincú. Twas not long before Nuincú came and met Lindil with the joy of meeting an old friend. Mithlach stood back and loaded the boat while Lindil spoke to him. When she was finished she sat down to watch with a smile as Lindil's lurking worry was washed from his eyes with merry laughter and gentle talk in a beautiful tongue which Mithlach could not understand but would forever remember.

At last, as the shadows lengthened, Nuincú left and Lindil came to speak to Mithlach as she sat carving something from a piece of wood with her dagger.

 "Nuincú is departing for the Grey Havens immediately," he told her.

 "I am glad to hear it."

 "I have heard from him something that will gladden you far more."

 "Indeed?"

 "There are men camped near the remains of Dol Goldur."

 "Then I may get back my sword and ring! Come."

 "We must not be hasty, Mithlach. It would be best for me to go to the camp and discover what Ohtar has told the others, if he is in fact with them. Only Melfalas would recognise me but he knows that I was not with you when you met Ohtar. Then we shall see about your stolen possessions."

 "Then I do nothing?" asked Mithlach in considerable disappointment.

 "Yes child, I'm afraid so."

A kingly horse of grey found its way to the knights' camp bearing a rider in black. As the rider dismounted, Melfalas saw him and hurriedly went to speak to him.

 "Prince Amrothos!" he cried.

 "Yes Melfalas. I am well enough at last to lead you all but it seems I have come too late."

 The prince removed his hood and looked at Melfalas with his sorrow filled dark grey eyes and Melfalas bowed his head.

 "I am sorry, your majesty. It should not have ended like this."

 "I know not yet that it has ended as badly as it seems. I must know if the one you found, the one who is dead is in fact the one I sent you to search for. Tell me all."

 Amrothos took a seat by a fire. The light of the flames flickered over his handsome face as he listened to all Melfalas had to tell him about 'Ohtarwen'. Melfalas had not spoken for long before Amrothos interrupted him.

 "A maiden defeated you in swordplay?" he said.

 "Yes, my lord and I am not ashamed to admit it for such skill with the sword I never did see before. She knocked the sword clean from my hand."

 "Show me."

 "I cannot for I know not how she did it."

 "Draw your sword," said Amrothos and stood up, drawing his own.

 Most of the knight's had taken to their tents but a few saw them standing there in the light of the fire with their swords out and drew closer to watch.

 "Grip it tightly," said Amrothos.

 With a deft flick of the wrist he tackled Melfalas's sword and it fell from his hand.

 "How did you know she did it thus?" asked Melfalas, "Did you teach her it?"

 "No," he replied with a grim smile, "She taught me. Now, what does Ohtar say happened when you left them?"

 They put back their swords and sat down again.

 "He said they were attacked by dwarves."

"Dwarves?" exclaimed Lindil, "That is absurd."

"But 'tis True."

 Having made his way to the camp Lindil was hailed by the knights and when they heard that he was of Rivendell they urged him to heal their captain for he was in great pain. They showed him into a tent where Ohtar lay face down moaning. A man was tending him with a frown but when he saw Lindil his brow cleared.

 "Have you come to help him?" he asked.

 Lindil looked from one man to the other and then at Ohtar.

 "Yes," he said.

 "How does he fare, Nevsoron?"

 "Not well, Belegore, not well at all."

 "Look," Belegore told Lindil, "There is the axe the dwarves struck him with. Probably the same axe they used to kill the maiden."

 Lindil saw not just the axe but also Mithlach's bag and beside it, wrapped in a cloak, was what appeared to be her sword. But of the ring there was no sign.

 "I shall do all that I can," said Lindil, "But I must be left alone."

 "Yes, of course."

 With that the men left him alone as he had desired and waited anxiously outside. Quickly, Lindil picked up the axe and put it inside Mithlach's bag. Opening up the bundled cloak he found Mithlach's sword. He tied the bag to the hilt of the sword and opened the rear flap of the tent. It opened into the forest and he could almost see the boat from where he stood. Aiming the sword like a spear he let it fly swift and true and its point struck the ground near the river. He stood looking out of the flap undecided. Should he leave Ohtar to die for all that he had done or should he heal him. A sudden cry of pain from Ohtar decided the matter for him. He stayed and got to work on the deep gash in Ohtar's back. He ventured to ask him of the ring but Ohtar would not tell him aught.

"We found this clasped in our captain's hand," Melfalas told the prince.

 He placed into Amrothos' hand a ring with a red gem and black band. Amrothos grit his teeth at the sight of it.

 "Then she is indeed dead," he said hollowly, "For she would not part with this for anything in middle-earth."

 He stared into the gem, lost in thoughts and memories until Melfalas ventured to ask if he would camp with them. Amrothos slipped the ring onto his little finger and stood.

 "Nay," he said, "There is no need for me to remain here. I return to Dol Amroth for my father needs me there. Those of you who wish to come with me may do so but a dozen or so must stay here till Ohtar is fit and well again."

 "I shall tell the men."

 "Thank you, but first direct me to Ohtar's tent. I desire a few words with him."

 "It is straight ahead. I do not know how many will stay but I for one will come with you, my lord."

 "I shall be glad of your company."

 "One more thing. However the maiden's death came to pass, I doubt very much that she was slain by dwarves. For the dwarves of Erebor looked upon her in some respect and a few with affection even. There is no sense in them slaying her for even had they wanted to slay her why would they wait for her to leave before they did so? It makes no sense at all."

 "What does Ohtar say of this?"

 "I have not spoken to him of it."

 The prince frowned and made his way to Ohtar's tent where Belegore and Nevsoron stood outside still waiting for Lindil to finish.

 "Why do you stand here?" asked Amrothos, "Who tends your poor captain."

 "An elf, your majesty."

 Amrothos entered the tent and saw the elf washing his hands in a basin. Lindil turned as the he entered and saw immediately the glowing ring on his finger but made no sign that he had noticed it at all. He recognised the man as the youngest son of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. It was clear at first glance that he had elvish blood in his veins and Lindil could not but feel a deep respect for him. He was a young man but the hard set of his jaw and the seriousness of his gaze made him appear as if he had borne an age of pain and overcome it. Yet deep within his dark eyes was a sorrow and ache for those he had lost. It was not immediately apparent but once it was glimpsed one could not bear to hold his gaze. For all that, there was still a twinkle in his eye though it seemed as though it had been a long time since he had cause to be merry.  

 "Will he live?" asked Amrothos looking at the inanimate man before him with a worried frown.

 "Yes."

 "Do you believe dwarves attacked him?"

 "No."

 "No?"

 "Dwarves would never commit such an act."

 "An elf who defends dwarves? A very strange thing indeed yet as you are of the wisest race I cannot but trust your judgement. Do you have any idea as to how he came to be wounded thus?"

 "I could not say. When he awakens fully perhaps you can ask him."

 "And when will he awaken?"

 "Not for quite some time, I deem."

 "Then I shall most probably not be here to ask him aught for I leave in a few moments."

 "For Dol Amroth?"

 "Yes."

 "I must leave also. Fare thee well."

 "Farewell then. I thank you for what you have done for Ohtar and I shall never forget it."

 "May we meet again in better circumstances," said Lindil. 

 "May we indeed, master elf."

 Lindil said a quick farewell to the grateful knights outside and hurried back to the boat. Before long they would discover the loss of the axe and perhaps the sword and bag too. He had to make haste for if he was far enough away they would never find him. His light feet left little or no imprint on the ground and he made no sound as he ran.

Finally he got to the boat but it was empty. Mithlach was gone and though her bag was in the boat her sword was gone as well.

 "Confounded mortals," muttered the elf.