A/N: Don't own it, don't sue. Haven't you figured that out yet? Special thanks to Lady of the Forest1 and Aislin, your reviews are much appreciated.
A Mother's Sacrifice
The flight from Mirkwood had so far been an easy one. Arathia knew the Wood well enough to know where the spiders' lairs were and what parts the orcs frequented. She took the route by the river to leave the Wood quickly. It had been many years since she had taken that road. The only question was whether to cross the Anduin now or later? It would not be as easy as it had been last time. Especially with Miriel. Arathia had always been a good swimmer and that was how she was able to cross before. That was out of the question now. She could make a raft and sail down the river till she reached Lorien. But Arathia had never been that much of a boater. Come to think of it the last time she had been in a boat was when she was still a teenager. That was also when the boat she and Elrohir had been in capsized. He had never really forgiven her for that. No, the best thing to do, Arathia thought was to stick near Mirkwood, just not too close. Orcs could easily come out to do some mischief. When she got far enough south, then she would make a raft and cross the Anduin to Lorien.
Arathia made good progress and in several weeks time she was close enough to the Wood to make her raft. Miriel had been an angel the entire way. Most of the time she slept and when she was awake, she barely made a sound. Her eyes always looked up at the sky with curiosity that made her forget her needs. When she did remember them, she did not cry out like other babes when they needed something. Instead she would make quiet grunting sounds and would scrunch up her face. It always made Arathia smile with gratitude that she had been blessed with such a wonderful child.
By nightfall Arathia was done with the raft. It was too dark to risk navigating the Anduin now so she made camp for the night. Arathia started a nice little fire and sat down to nurse Miriel as she watched the stars come out. She was telling Miriel a story about Wilwarin the Butterfly when Arathia heard voices. Foul voices. Orc voices. Arathia quickly put out the fire, praying that she was wrong. No, there they were again. Orc scouts more then likely patrolling the eastern side of the river. But this close? Arathia had been so fortunate not to encounter any, why now were they here? She held Miriel close and ducked behind a nearby rock hoping that they had not seen her. The voices came closer. Arathia could hear their footsteps, but could not understand their words. They were using the Black Speech. They must have seen the fire. They were near the rock now. The tone of their voices indicated they knew someone was there. It sounded like there were four or five, she wasn't sure. Orcs all sounded alike. Arathia couldn't take on that many, not with Miriel. She would have to run for it. Hopefully they wouldn't see her in the darkness. Rana* was new, so none of his light would betray her Arathia peered behind the rock. Yes there were five of them. One was getting close to the rock she hid behind. Two others were examining the campsite while the other two were looking at the raft. She would have to go now. One, two, three! Arathia sprang up and began to run towards the river. They didn't spot her at first, but their voices became louder with foul curses and Arathia knew they had. It all happened so fast that Arathia wasn't given time to think. One minute she was running on land and the next she was in the water with a searing pain in her back and the laughter of the orcs in her ears. She quickly turned on her back in the water and began to do a backstroke with one arm. The other held Miriel above the water. Miriel sputtered water, but she didn't stop breathing. For that Arathia was grateful. She didn't know how long it took her to swim across the river, but when she reached the other side she collapsed onto the shore in a deep sleep, Miriel still clutched tightly in the crook of her arm.
Arathia woke with a start the next morning to the sharp pain in her back. Miriel was sleeping soundly, the last night's adventure far from her mind. Arathia gently laid her down and reached towards her back. Arathia was horrified at what she felt. She gave a quick yank and pulled out an arrow. It hadn't been fired very well, from what Arathia could tell it had imbedded itself in one of her ribs. A second arrow was also sticking out of her back. It too had been poorly fired. She breathed a sigh of relief. The arrows could have killed not only her, but Miriel as well if they had been true. Arathia hadn't lost much blood and nothing vital had been hit. She quickly took care of the wounds as best she could, but noticed that she felt awfully light headed and her stomach was getting terribly queasy. She leaned over into the water and retched. Arathia felt her forehead. She was unbelievable hot and was sweating fiercely. Something was very wrong. Arathia went back to where she had left the arrows and picked them up. She held the arrows close to her nose. A sickly sweet scent that burned her nose met her. Arathia tossed the arrows aside in horror. The arrows had been poisoned.
What was she going to do? Arathia didn't know if the herbs needed to care for a poisoned arrow wound grew in this area. Plus she didn't have the time to make the ointments from them. From the way she was feeling the poison had already passed through her body several times. There was only one thing to do. Get to Lorien with all speed. She would find aid there and she couldn't be too far from their borders. Arathia picked up Miriel who was just beginning to stir and bound for Lorien.
How far had she gone? Was she still going in the right direction? What was the time? Arathia couldn't tell if days, weeks, or months had passed. The poison was working quicker then she had estimated. Visions danced before Arathia's eyes while her mind rose and sank beneath the fires of her body. She was only dimly aware of Miriel's hungry cries, but she wouldn't spread the poison to her daughter through her milk. Arathia didn't know when she had entered the Wood; she didn't even know when she had sat propped up by a boulder. All she knew was someone was close to her. She threw out her arm and found herself grabbing an elf by his tunic. He looked startled by her sudden movement. For a moment sanity had returned to Arathia and she knew what she must do before it was too late.
"Save her," Arathia said through clenched teeth. "Don't let her die! Don't let anything happen to her! Protect her!"
The elf was even more startled by Arathia's outburst and didn't say anything for a moment.
"I won't let anything happen to her," he said.
"Swear it!" Arathia said feverishly. "Swear it now!"
The elf's eyes were sorrowful. He nodded slowly. "I swear it."
Arathia loosened her grip on the elf. "Thank you," she replied before sinking into the dark abyss.
*Elven name for the moon.
A Mother's Sacrifice
The flight from Mirkwood had so far been an easy one. Arathia knew the Wood well enough to know where the spiders' lairs were and what parts the orcs frequented. She took the route by the river to leave the Wood quickly. It had been many years since she had taken that road. The only question was whether to cross the Anduin now or later? It would not be as easy as it had been last time. Especially with Miriel. Arathia had always been a good swimmer and that was how she was able to cross before. That was out of the question now. She could make a raft and sail down the river till she reached Lorien. But Arathia had never been that much of a boater. Come to think of it the last time she had been in a boat was when she was still a teenager. That was also when the boat she and Elrohir had been in capsized. He had never really forgiven her for that. No, the best thing to do, Arathia thought was to stick near Mirkwood, just not too close. Orcs could easily come out to do some mischief. When she got far enough south, then she would make a raft and cross the Anduin to Lorien.
Arathia made good progress and in several weeks time she was close enough to the Wood to make her raft. Miriel had been an angel the entire way. Most of the time she slept and when she was awake, she barely made a sound. Her eyes always looked up at the sky with curiosity that made her forget her needs. When she did remember them, she did not cry out like other babes when they needed something. Instead she would make quiet grunting sounds and would scrunch up her face. It always made Arathia smile with gratitude that she had been blessed with such a wonderful child.
By nightfall Arathia was done with the raft. It was too dark to risk navigating the Anduin now so she made camp for the night. Arathia started a nice little fire and sat down to nurse Miriel as she watched the stars come out. She was telling Miriel a story about Wilwarin the Butterfly when Arathia heard voices. Foul voices. Orc voices. Arathia quickly put out the fire, praying that she was wrong. No, there they were again. Orc scouts more then likely patrolling the eastern side of the river. But this close? Arathia had been so fortunate not to encounter any, why now were they here? She held Miriel close and ducked behind a nearby rock hoping that they had not seen her. The voices came closer. Arathia could hear their footsteps, but could not understand their words. They were using the Black Speech. They must have seen the fire. They were near the rock now. The tone of their voices indicated they knew someone was there. It sounded like there were four or five, she wasn't sure. Orcs all sounded alike. Arathia couldn't take on that many, not with Miriel. She would have to run for it. Hopefully they wouldn't see her in the darkness. Rana* was new, so none of his light would betray her Arathia peered behind the rock. Yes there were five of them. One was getting close to the rock she hid behind. Two others were examining the campsite while the other two were looking at the raft. She would have to go now. One, two, three! Arathia sprang up and began to run towards the river. They didn't spot her at first, but their voices became louder with foul curses and Arathia knew they had. It all happened so fast that Arathia wasn't given time to think. One minute she was running on land and the next she was in the water with a searing pain in her back and the laughter of the orcs in her ears. She quickly turned on her back in the water and began to do a backstroke with one arm. The other held Miriel above the water. Miriel sputtered water, but she didn't stop breathing. For that Arathia was grateful. She didn't know how long it took her to swim across the river, but when she reached the other side she collapsed onto the shore in a deep sleep, Miriel still clutched tightly in the crook of her arm.
Arathia woke with a start the next morning to the sharp pain in her back. Miriel was sleeping soundly, the last night's adventure far from her mind. Arathia gently laid her down and reached towards her back. Arathia was horrified at what she felt. She gave a quick yank and pulled out an arrow. It hadn't been fired very well, from what Arathia could tell it had imbedded itself in one of her ribs. A second arrow was also sticking out of her back. It too had been poorly fired. She breathed a sigh of relief. The arrows could have killed not only her, but Miriel as well if they had been true. Arathia hadn't lost much blood and nothing vital had been hit. She quickly took care of the wounds as best she could, but noticed that she felt awfully light headed and her stomach was getting terribly queasy. She leaned over into the water and retched. Arathia felt her forehead. She was unbelievable hot and was sweating fiercely. Something was very wrong. Arathia went back to where she had left the arrows and picked them up. She held the arrows close to her nose. A sickly sweet scent that burned her nose met her. Arathia tossed the arrows aside in horror. The arrows had been poisoned.
What was she going to do? Arathia didn't know if the herbs needed to care for a poisoned arrow wound grew in this area. Plus she didn't have the time to make the ointments from them. From the way she was feeling the poison had already passed through her body several times. There was only one thing to do. Get to Lorien with all speed. She would find aid there and she couldn't be too far from their borders. Arathia picked up Miriel who was just beginning to stir and bound for Lorien.
How far had she gone? Was she still going in the right direction? What was the time? Arathia couldn't tell if days, weeks, or months had passed. The poison was working quicker then she had estimated. Visions danced before Arathia's eyes while her mind rose and sank beneath the fires of her body. She was only dimly aware of Miriel's hungry cries, but she wouldn't spread the poison to her daughter through her milk. Arathia didn't know when she had entered the Wood; she didn't even know when she had sat propped up by a boulder. All she knew was someone was close to her. She threw out her arm and found herself grabbing an elf by his tunic. He looked startled by her sudden movement. For a moment sanity had returned to Arathia and she knew what she must do before it was too late.
"Save her," Arathia said through clenched teeth. "Don't let her die! Don't let anything happen to her! Protect her!"
The elf was even more startled by Arathia's outburst and didn't say anything for a moment.
"I won't let anything happen to her," he said.
"Swear it!" Arathia said feverishly. "Swear it now!"
The elf's eyes were sorrowful. He nodded slowly. "I swear it."
Arathia loosened her grip on the elf. "Thank you," she replied before sinking into the dark abyss.
*Elven name for the moon.