We traveled without stopping the remaining miles to the Deep Forest. The sky darkened ominously, the thick layer of grey-blue clouds quickly turning bruise-black. I scanned the skies, praying that the weather would hold until we reached the forest. Thunder rolled above us and the clouds flared with lightning. A wild whoop broke from the mouths of the Warriors as the dark smear of treeline first appeared on the horizon before us. The horses seemed infected by the excitement, increasing the pace until we were galloping across the low rolling hills at a dead run. Legolas and Gimli drew even with me at one point; the Elf shouted over the din of hoofbeats.
"How far? Arod cannot hold this pace indefinitely."
I shouted to the other Walkers to continue on. I yanked Hellebore to a stop as Legolas wheeled Arod back to me. I eyed his horse, already sweating heavily. I did not doubt that the speed was taking a toll on the beast, possibly because he was doubly loaded.
"Would it help him if his load was lighter?" I swung out of my saddle and motioned Gimli down from the horse. "Hellebore can carry two more easily than Arod. I will take Gimli with me, and we will try to lessen the pace. I am familiar with the route. We will have no trouble making the last leg without the others."
Legolas nodded and dismounted to help Gimli onto my horse. I mounted first, extending my hand to Gimli to lift him behind me. He gripped my waist, muttering darkly about the increased height. I chuckled at him. When Legolas was remounted, I dug my heels into Hellebore's flanks until she fell into her traveling pace, less swift but still efficient, and one that Arod could match with little effort.
We broke through the treeline some two hours later. The Walkers were resting in a small clearing less than a quarter mile beyond the first edge of the forest. They leaped to their feet as we approached, drawing their weapons. I tossed my hood back, needlessly; once they saw the fair Elf on the white horse, they knew us. Sára and Ango rushed forward to help us dismount. Sára's face was hard as stone, her eyes roving beyond my face to the deeper shadows. She gripped my arm as I lowered myself from the horse.
"Mornië, we have already seen a band of Easterling Hunters. We cannot stay here, so near the edge of the Forest. We must keep riding."
"How far to the Twilight Keep?"
She calculated swiftly, studying the trees around us for subtle markers left by other Warriors. "Five hours to the causeway. Less, if the Elf's mount can keep up."
I pressed my lips together, then turned to Legolas. "Can Arod continue the pace?"
He shook his head, his eyes grave. "I do not think that he can. Perhaps if he had no rider, but he does not know the way and I am loath to leave him in a strange place." He stroked the animal's neck, a comforting gesture between longtime friends. I thought deeply, my mind racing through possibilities.
Tuilë, the Healer, interrupted my thoughts. "Why do we not double load our own mounts and lead Legolas's horse? Our horses are more suited to the heavier loads and the strange terrain; they will be able to keep a fast pace even with extra riders."
I grinned, relieved, and clapped her on the back. "Brilliant, sister. You take the Dwarf, for you are lighter than the rest and your horse is the most fresh. I will take Legolas. Hellebore is accustomed to him and he is competent enough to stay on her even with my riding as reckless as it is."
Once remounted, Legolas spoke into my ear.
"What is this Twilight Keep you spoke of?"
"Our home. Twilight Keep is where the Shadowwalkers live. It is the only stone structure in the Deep Forest, though it is, in actuality, on an island in the Sea of Rhûn. It is heavily guarded both by blade and by magic, and it has stood for many lives of men. If there are Hunters in the woods, our people will not stay in their settlements. They will make for the Keep and whatever safety our order can offer."
"What are Hunters?" He had to raise his voice over the rush of wind in the trees, a sudden chilly gust that confirmed a storm later that day. I shivered and gathered my robes about me.
"Easterling marauders. They deal in Elf-trade. Slavery. Where they go, the armies of Rhûn are not far behind." I eyed the rapidly blackening sky through the thick conifer canopy above us. "We need to get out of the weather also. I do not like the look of the sky."
We surged through the woods, following the ancient, almost imperceptible trails our people had worn into the forest. The Warriors took the lead, for their eyes were more keen than anyone else's. As we rode, I talked to Legolas as much as possible about the forest and its ways. I knew the woods would be strange to his eyes; I had seen the lush green forests of his country, and our Forest was nothing like them. There were no leafy, slender birch or ash or willow here to soften the harsh landscape. The Deep Forest was primarily evergreen, hundreds of species of conifers with a light sprinkling of oak and thorn already bare for the approaching winter. The wind in the trees was a dull roar, not the hushed whispers he would recognize, and the ground underfoot was muffled with a thick layer of fallen needles that killed any other plant life.
I felt him craning his neck to see around him, absorbing as much of the foreign surroundings as he could. He tapped me on the shoulder.
"It is like the halls at Minas Tirith or of Khaza-dhûm. The trees are like pillars holding up the ceiling of the forest while we scuttle around on the floor." His voice was awed and, I thought, a little frightened. I squeezed his leg where it lay near mine.
"Eloquently phrased. Do remember that-our Bards would very much like to borrow that bit of poetry, I think."
The day wore on, the wind rising to a deafening howl around us. We stopped briefly to dig warmer garments out of our bags. Ango tossed a spare cloak to Legolas, one that had belonged to one of our fallen companions. Legolas refused it at first, arguing that no Western Elf needed such garments; I conceded that point but retorted that any garment that kept one dry ought be welcome. When I finally told Legolas about the previous owner, his face grew still and solemn. I noticed that he touched the cloak like a sacred relic, obviously honoring our friend's sacrifice.
The first rain fell as we rounded the edge of the Sea of Rhûn, the great inland sea lying iron-dark under the leaden sky. The rain quickly turned to sleet, freezing as it struck ground and travelers alike. The rocky shores of the sea turned dangerously slippery, coated in inches of ice. We reached the causeway miraculously intact.
Twilight Keep lay before us at the end of the long stone causeway, a great heap of granite hewn out of the sea by our distant ancestors, a last defense against the elements and the Men of Darkness. We picked our way along the causeway, buffeted by frosty wind and soaked by waves that rolled up over the waist-high walls. I shortened my grip on the reins as Hellebore shied from the edge. I felt Legolas's arms tighten around my waist. I glanced over my shoulder; his eyes were wide and icy in the dimming light, his lips set in a grim line. I urged the horse onward again.
The gates of Twilight Keep were closed for the night. Serko roared up at the watchroom, hailing the Warriors on duty. I saw a hooded face peering through the driving sleet; the watchman waved at us. The gates labored open. We clattered into the Keep, dismounting just inside the retaining walls and handing the horses over to several young stableboys. I grasped Legolas's elbow and ushered our company into the Hall.
We stripped off our soaking cloaks at the door, piling the sodden fabric into a leaking pile by the doors to the kitchens. Shivering violently, I strode over to the massive fireplace, wringing my hair out onto the rush-covered floors. The others gathered around me by the fire, shaking out robes and hair and drawing weapons from scabbards to dry in the heat. Gimli rubbed his hands together and fluffed his beard out as it dried.
"Welcome home, my prodigal ones. And welcome to the guests of Twilight Keep." I turned to see my old Teacher striding toward us, arms outstretched in greeting. All the Walkers bowed respectfully, acknowledging his status in our Order. Legolas went down on one knee, bowing his head as before a king. The Protector of the Keep chuckled affectionately and helped him to rise again.
"That is not necessary here, young sir. I do not rule this land; I am merely a Teacher of ancient lore. My name is Tur Varyar. Rise, and be at ease among us." He moved amongst us, speaking quietly to each person, a few brief words to bolster the spirit. His dark eyes roved over each face, reading the sorrows and hardship of the journey. When his eyes turned to mine, I saw a familiar flash of anger; his jaw set even as he took my hands in greeting. As soon as the others were comfortably dry, he begged their leave to excuse myself and the two men of the West. He lead us out of the Hall to a narrow staircase hewn into one wall. His study, a room I knew well from my days as a student and close association with him, lay at the top; I was reminded of Aragorn's study at Minas Tirith. He gestured us to sit in large, comfortable chairs as he poured glasses of wine for each of us.
I sipped at the glass; I recognized the mellow sweetness of our own ice-wine, distilled in snowbanks throughout the long winters. Gimli sipped cautiously at the strange liquid before swallowing thirstily. Legolas's eyes closed in pleasure as he drank deeply; he smiled at me over the rim of the glass goblet before turning his attention to Varyar's words.
"We have had word that there are Hunters abroad in the Deep Forest." Varyar's eyes were deeply troubled, his dusky face grave.
I nodded. "Aye, our Warriors saw a band today at the edges of the woods. What news of the Easterling armies?"
"They have been massing on the Plains, attacking any of our people that dare to travel. The Plainsfolk are cut off from sanctuary here, and I fear they may not survive even now. The Great Council is here already, and the other Clans of the Forest have moved into the Keep. There is much planning to be done, and your services will be required over the next few days." He stared into the fire for several moments. He turned to Legolas.
"We have received a message from your kin in Mirkwood. They have heard of our troubles from the Lady of Lórien and are considering an alliance with us." Legolas smiled slightly, relieved, I knew, by the news.
"Master, how close are we to war?"
He met my eyes. "Closer than we thought. The Easterling have chosen a king, and his eye is fixed on this keep. My messengers tell me there is a host of perhaps two hundred mounted men moving toward this place from the West. We must be ever vigilant now." We sat in silence until Varyar asked us to excuse him; we slipped out the study door and left him to his work. I left Legolas at his chambers, already prepared and warmed for the long night, and returned to my own familiar rooms at the opposite end of the hall.
~***~