One: The Meeting
The lands in Beleriand were ever besieged by Orcs, for it was in Morgoth's mind to cause as much hurt as he could to the Elves, and he sought ever to hurt Men as well, they being also the Children of Ilúvatar.
The Orcs roamed throughout the lands, destroying and marring the earth. In those days, the Vala commanded them little, but to destroy as they could, and they were free to do as they would.
Many were killed by the Elves, yet others surfaced from Angband and Utumno to take the places of the dead.
In Beleriand, King Felagund and his people hunted the Orcs or chased them from their lands, and the Elves had the friendship and aid of Men.
Yet, small and scattered parties of Orcs still went about, and they were hard to track, for they traveled swiftly under the cover of darkness.
***
Beyond the forest of Brethil in Beleriand laid long leagues of land ere it reached Ossiriand in the east, and the plains there were unguarded, for few would dare Haleth's people through the forest if they were enemies.
Few of Haleth's people indeed walked the plains, for since their coming into the west, their dealings were mainly with the trees, and the Elves of Beleriand.
Yet it was in the plains that Utíraiel walked, both by day and by night, learning the loves of both the sun and the stars.
She saw not the waxing or the waning of those, but felt the heat of day and coolness of night, and learnt the beauty of both by the songs of the Elves and of her own people.
This night, she strolled amongst the knee-tall grass, and in her hand she held a staff, smooth and sturdy. It was a gift from Haleth, both for her to feel her paths by and for defense.
Utíraiel knew not what she should defend herself from. O! She had indeed heard of the Orcs and wild beasts about: her people had had skirmishes with those, but she had not seen them, save for pictures she formed in her mind from the rumors she had heard. The plain was guarded on all sides by Elven lands. Surely no danger would chance this place?
Aye. She was young, and she was blind, and ever in the fights with Orcs, she had been taken away swiftly by the order of Haleth. Mayhap because they felt they needed to defend the weak amongst them.
"But I am only blind," Utíraiel whispered to the air, "not unskilled. Why do they treat me thus?"
She expected no answer, but when none came, she was still disappointed. She sighed and continued her nightly stroll.
A sound caught her ears, and she froze. It did not belong in this place, the harsh panting and heavy stomping.
Curiosity and a little fear arose in her as she turned. She could not see, and thus her ears were sharp, almost as keen as the Elves, and she perceived that someone stood not far away, having halted suddenly.
Her first thought was that it was an Orc; her next: a wild boar; her third: an Orc again. The tales she had heard from Felagund and her own people gave her cause to fear. She should turn and run, and cry for aid, for how should the blind defend themselves? Instinct told her to flee as she could, but she stood undecided.
Haleth's people were not cowards. She should shame herself if she fled from danger. O! Curse the fear! I am of Haleth's people! I will not run! She held her staff up and gripped it firmly.
The panting became hisses, and Utíraiel raised her staff further, ears sharp. "Who passes into Haleth's land?" She demanded. "You are no Elf nor Man. Name yourself!"
There was a rumble, and a slight snarl, and she felt a slight change in the air as a thing came towards her.
Utíraiel gave a shout, and moved her staff, deflecting the intended attack. She brought up her staff to strike out at where she thought her attacker would be, but there was nothing. The wood was then given a strong jerk. She yelped and released it, but stumbled forward.
Someone caught her in his arms, and for a moment, she thought aid had arrived. A cold object was held at her throat. Hot air broke on her neck, and harsh sounds reached her ears.
She felt a prick of pain and realized that the person had moved the blade ever so slightly and broken her skin. But it was not deep, and she could still fight.
Grabbing the arm of her assailant, Utíraiel pulled it from her and ducked down as the grip relaxed in surprise. She elbowed the person, and jumped away, forgetting the blade that he held.
She could not see its journey towards her, and blade cut flesh and drew blood.
Utíraiel cried out. She had not received battle injury before, and this wound was deep. She staggered backward and tripped over her staff, landing hard on the ground.
He was on her in a moment, one hand gripping her throat, the other holding the blade at her heart.
His skin was rough and dry against hers, uneven, as if it bore deep scares that would not heal. She gasped for air and groped for the assailant's face, trying to attack him in any way she could.
His face felt marred as well, and the hair that fell over his face were coarse and tangled.
His grip tightened.
Utíraiel choked and spasm, but dug her nails into his flesh, causing him to growl in pain. She groped higher, and felt wetness; and halted in surprise.
A sudden tighter grip on her throat made her cry out again, and she coughed as the hand and the blade withdrew from her.
As she lay there gasping, a part of her mind heard what sounded like sobs, and the running of feet away from her.