Ten days later, the two Elves had climbed down from the Emyn Muil, and they were deep inside the Dead Marshes. Mendiel kept her keen eyes glued to their surroundings. Deep, dense fog swirled about, as if it wanted to pull the fleeing Elves down into the dank mires, which menaced them on all sides. Mendiel had chosen to brave the Marshes because she felt they were better prepared to fight against the forces of the fens than any Men that they might run across in the more open approaches to Ithilien.
The child walked as if she were in a dream. Exhaustion and starvation ate into her small body, and her usually vibrant face was sunken, her limbs shaking. For long days they had traversed the dangerous marshes, and the child felt that she could not remember what it was like to not be covered head to toe in sticky mud.
For what seemed like the thousandth time, she stumbled and fell, landing face first in the mire. Mendiel reached down and lifted the girl back onto her feet. With a gentle hand she brushed the mud encrusted hair back from her daughter's face. Her head only reached to the height of her mother's waist, and she reached out, wrapping her small arms about the long legs in front of her.
Mendiel softly pulled the child off her, speaking reassuringly, "It cannot be much farther now. We will reach the edge of the Marshes, and then we will stay in safer ground for a while."
Turning her filthy face up to her mother, the child sobbed, "Mother, I am so very hungry!" forgetting that she could not be heard.
Mendiel squeezed her close, not understanding the words, but clearly understanding their intent "I need you to be strong for just a little while longer, love."
It killed her inside to see her only child suffering so, but she had no choice. It was the only way she could think to save her life. Once, long ago, they could have gone to the Grey Havens and sailed from there to the Undying Lands, but that way was now closed. The Men who lived along the shores had destroyed the shipbuilding yards of the Elves, and now none dared show their face there. Without a ship to sail on, that way of escape was no longer an option.
The now familiar ring of silence greeted Mendiel's ears as she unconsciously tried to listen for the sounds about her. She shook her head in frustration. Offering her daughter her hand, she pulled her onward, anxious to be out of the fetid Marshes.
When they had reached the end of the marshes Mendiel had climbed into an obliging apple tree, pulling down several of the ripe fruits. She had given one to the girl, who ate it with all the speed of a snake striking its prey, then reached for another. When she had consumed three of the juicy fruits, she had finally paused, smiling up at her mother for the first time in weeks. Mendiel felt her heart pound more strongly in her chest, glad to have helped to alleviate the child's suffering.
Still they pressed onward, hugging the foothills of the Mountains of Shadow. The land of Mordor had not yet fully recovered from the long years under Sauron's reign, and Men stayed away from the dark peaks. That, at least, showed that they retained some sense. Perhaps there was still hope to save them from the provincial prejudices which had so recently flourished among them.
Mendiel knew that soon they would run into trouble. The rumored Elf Colony was south of Minas Ithil, a stronghold of Men which rested high in the foothills of the Mountains of Shadow. In order to pass it by, they would have to move farther down into the verdant plains of Ithilien. It would be the most dangerous crossing yet, for there was little chance of passing through unseen. Men seemed to multiply with the speed of rabbits, and much of the country was overrun with them.
Before dropping down from the foothills, Mendiel stopped to use a sharp stone to fashion a crude spear. She hoped against hope that she would not have to use it, but she would if it meant saving the life of her child. The girl was sitting away from her, lost in her own thoughts, and Mendiel sighed. This journey was too difficult for such a young child. Truly it was too difficult for her, and she was in her prime.
She rose, taking the girl by her small hand, and together they made their stealthy way down into the inhabited lands of Ithilien. By hiding behind hedges and skirting the edges of towns, the two managed to avoid being seen by Men for three days. Mendiel felt as if her heart would burst from the tension. The girl-child had been vigilant, alerting her every time someone came near, and they had found time to hide.
Three long, terrible days. But now they stood at the most dangerous crossing they would find. In front of them ran the wide road which led from the Ford at Osgiliath up to the fortress city of Minas Ithil. A steady stream of Men moved up and down the road, raucous laughter reaching the ears of the child, as they sat perched high in an oak tree, watching and planning. Mendiel held the girl close against her, her most prized possession. At last she decided that they could wait no longer. The tide showed no sign of slowing so, when the sun fell, they would brave the road. Surely they could avoid detection in the dark of night.
Whispering her plan into the girl's ear, Mendiel tried to stress the importance of what they must do. "When we cross the road, do not hesitate. Move across as if you are not afraid. We can hope that in the darkness they will not recognize us as Elves." Gripping the girl's shoulders tight, to impress upon her the urgency of her words, she continued, "If something should happen, I want you to run. Do not wait for me. Make your way south, and do not stop for anything. The Colony of Legolas cannot be much farther now. It is said that the borders are well patrolled, so I believe that you will be found. You will be safe there."
The girl nodded her understanding, although her grey eyes were filled with trepidation. Realizing that there was little point in delay, Mendiel dropped down out of the tree, her hand firm on her spear. Moments later her daughter followed her, and reached out her grubby hand to hold tight to her mother. When a dark cloud draped itself across the moon, their time was ripe. Together they stepped out onto the road, which was temporarily free of Men.
When they were almost across, the moon again broke from behind its cloudy shroud. A shout from behind reached the girl's ears. "Look at that, boys! Their ears are pointed! Elves!" Cold dread gripped the child's heart as the next words fell, "Get them!"
Frantically, she tugged at her mother, and Mendiel spun about, her eyes seeing the glare of approaching torches, and the figures of running Men. Breaking into a swift lope, the Elf dragged her child after her, hoping to outdistance the four Men who pursued them.
The girl ran as fast as her short legs would carry her, but she could not keep pace with her mother, and she tripped and fell, dragged along behind for several steps. Mendiel yanked her to her feet and tried to push her ahead, but the girl could move no faster. Her breath burned in her lungs and her wasted muscles screamed in protest.
Mendiel could see the lights of the torches drawing nearer, for she could not flee as fast as she would have been able to without her beloved daughter. Without warning, a burning pain pierced her through and she crashed to the ground. In disbelief she stared at the arrow protruding from her shoulder. Grimly she rose to her feet. Ignoring the searing pain, she raised her spear and turned to give battle.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the girl had paused, hesitating to leave her at the mercy of the band of ruffians. Tears fell from Mendiel's eyes as she gazed for what was likely to be that last time at her beloved child. "Run," she whispered. Then she screamed it, "RUN!!!" On the last word she charged forward at the towering Men, who raised their swords in answer to her challenge.
The girl stared for a moment in disbelief. Her mother had been shot! Those terrible men had shot her! She wanted to run into the fray, to kick at them, to bite them with her sharp teeth. But no, her mother had told her to run. So with one last look, she turned and fled, tears falling freely from her eyes.
Into the deep forest she ran, crashing heedlessly through the underbrush, blind to all impediments. Branches lashed out at her, whipping her face and arms with their sharp sting. She dared not look behind her, for fear that she would find the attackers hard on her heels.
Mother! her heart screamed. The aching pain in her heart came not just from the strain of running without air, for she could not gasp in enough breath to sustain herself, but also from the understanding that her mother had sacrificed herself for her. Still blinded by tears she ran, struggling to gain breath through her wrenching sobs.
How long she ran she would never know, but when she fell, she could not rise, and she fell into a sleep of deep oblivion.
