Chapter 3: Lightning and Thunder
The sun was setting, triumphant in escaping the now-louring storm clouds, when the party reached the outer clutches of Mirkwood, which greeted them like a grimacing black wall. A great wind had picked up, roaring through the trees and angrily ripping their leaves off. The five horses balked and snorted, worriedly champing their bits and stomping the ground as forked tongues of lightning lashed out in the distance and groans of thunder quickly met them, but it wasn't certain what the elvish steeds feared more: the storm, or Mirkwood.
Lothatal and Enednilwen sat on their nervous mounts, gazing over the shimmering treetops at the approaching menace. Their companions, also still mounted, stood under the eaves of the forest's gnarled outer trees. A few blackened leaves swirled down among them in the wind, but in the open wilds away from the shelter of the trees, the two elleths were being bombarded by flying yellow and orange leaves.
"The lightning is blue," Lothatal remarked.
Enednilwen glanced at her. "You talk like that's a normal thing," she grunted, and Alanoth snorted in agreement. "Or are you seeing things?"
Lothatal slowly turned her head and lifted her chin, staring at the younger elleth in effectual superiority. "The lightning is blue," she replied in a dark undertone. "I never see falsely."
Enednilwen turned her eyes back to the storm. Lothatal had been a guard at the gates of Rivendell for a century now, and though she was a surly and reserved elf who contained little mercy and much bitterness, Lord Elrond favored her because of her attitude. Not a one of Rivendell's dwellers knew from whence Lothatal came, nor would she tell them. Her duty was to protect the shining gates of the forest city, and she did it, night and day, without distraction.
"An omen?" Enednilwen offered to the silent Lothatal, picking up the reins of Alanoth as he anxiously began pawing the earth with one hoof.
"An omen," Lothatal echoed, still staring at the sky. "An ill one."
"Of what evil?" said Talawen, coming up behind them. "Worse than of Mirkwood?"
Lothatal did not speak for a minute or so, but when she did, her voice was rimmed thoughtful. "I don't think it is evil," she said, "but it is unsavory, nonetheless. Something is going to happen."
Ainacalion quickly urged his horse toward them, his hand on the hilt of a green-handled knife. "And what is this something?" he demanded. "Would we be better off staying out here in the storm, or going through the wood? Tell me that, wise elleth!"
Lothatal pivoted on her horse to gaze at him with eyes like grey stones. "I do not know," she replied lowly. "But the wood is safer, if safe can even be used for Mirkwood. It would be unneccessary to remain out here when we could be halfway toward Thranduil's palace by the time the storm passes over. He wanted us there as swiftly as possible."
"Then swiftly as possible we shall get there," Eruialiwen remarked from the edge of the trees, spurring her horse toward the green-black shadows that awaited. Merian balked as soon as his ears touched the long straggles of ivy that hung from the branches, tossing his head and neighing in protest, trying to back away, but his rider forced him foreward again.
"The horses shouldn't go through Mirkwood," said Ainacalion, worriedly. "They don't like it, for good reason. The spiders could kill them."
As though understanding the elf's words, Merian and the other steeds snorted and neighed. "We'll get to Thranduil's gate much sooner if we ride through," Eruialiwen insisted. "I've brought Merian through here before."
Talawen sniffed. "Then he has had a bad experience under these eaves," she remarked. "Look at him dance away from the wood!"
The company of elves looked up at the sky again, except for Eruialiwen, who was trying to control her steed. "You're acting like a colt," she rebuked. "I should have borrowed Glorfindel's horse. Asfaloth behaves much better than you."
Alanoth stopped snorting and suddenly tossed up his head, whickering in example to good behavior; Asfaloth was his elder brother.
"If we are to go through Mirkwood, let us go," Lothatal said shortly. "Horses and all."
They quickly dismounted and refilled their water-skins in a small creek trickling nearby, for they were wise enough not to drink the enchanted water than ran in the streams within the wood. Once again mounting their trembling horses at the deep growl of near thunder, the elves quickly left the fading daylight and entered the blackness of Mirkwood.
The sun was setting, triumphant in escaping the now-louring storm clouds, when the party reached the outer clutches of Mirkwood, which greeted them like a grimacing black wall. A great wind had picked up, roaring through the trees and angrily ripping their leaves off. The five horses balked and snorted, worriedly champing their bits and stomping the ground as forked tongues of lightning lashed out in the distance and groans of thunder quickly met them, but it wasn't certain what the elvish steeds feared more: the storm, or Mirkwood.
Lothatal and Enednilwen sat on their nervous mounts, gazing over the shimmering treetops at the approaching menace. Their companions, also still mounted, stood under the eaves of the forest's gnarled outer trees. A few blackened leaves swirled down among them in the wind, but in the open wilds away from the shelter of the trees, the two elleths were being bombarded by flying yellow and orange leaves.
"The lightning is blue," Lothatal remarked.
Enednilwen glanced at her. "You talk like that's a normal thing," she grunted, and Alanoth snorted in agreement. "Or are you seeing things?"
Lothatal slowly turned her head and lifted her chin, staring at the younger elleth in effectual superiority. "The lightning is blue," she replied in a dark undertone. "I never see falsely."
Enednilwen turned her eyes back to the storm. Lothatal had been a guard at the gates of Rivendell for a century now, and though she was a surly and reserved elf who contained little mercy and much bitterness, Lord Elrond favored her because of her attitude. Not a one of Rivendell's dwellers knew from whence Lothatal came, nor would she tell them. Her duty was to protect the shining gates of the forest city, and she did it, night and day, without distraction.
"An omen?" Enednilwen offered to the silent Lothatal, picking up the reins of Alanoth as he anxiously began pawing the earth with one hoof.
"An omen," Lothatal echoed, still staring at the sky. "An ill one."
"Of what evil?" said Talawen, coming up behind them. "Worse than of Mirkwood?"
Lothatal did not speak for a minute or so, but when she did, her voice was rimmed thoughtful. "I don't think it is evil," she said, "but it is unsavory, nonetheless. Something is going to happen."
Ainacalion quickly urged his horse toward them, his hand on the hilt of a green-handled knife. "And what is this something?" he demanded. "Would we be better off staying out here in the storm, or going through the wood? Tell me that, wise elleth!"
Lothatal pivoted on her horse to gaze at him with eyes like grey stones. "I do not know," she replied lowly. "But the wood is safer, if safe can even be used for Mirkwood. It would be unneccessary to remain out here when we could be halfway toward Thranduil's palace by the time the storm passes over. He wanted us there as swiftly as possible."
"Then swiftly as possible we shall get there," Eruialiwen remarked from the edge of the trees, spurring her horse toward the green-black shadows that awaited. Merian balked as soon as his ears touched the long straggles of ivy that hung from the branches, tossing his head and neighing in protest, trying to back away, but his rider forced him foreward again.
"The horses shouldn't go through Mirkwood," said Ainacalion, worriedly. "They don't like it, for good reason. The spiders could kill them."
As though understanding the elf's words, Merian and the other steeds snorted and neighed. "We'll get to Thranduil's gate much sooner if we ride through," Eruialiwen insisted. "I've brought Merian through here before."
Talawen sniffed. "Then he has had a bad experience under these eaves," she remarked. "Look at him dance away from the wood!"
The company of elves looked up at the sky again, except for Eruialiwen, who was trying to control her steed. "You're acting like a colt," she rebuked. "I should have borrowed Glorfindel's horse. Asfaloth behaves much better than you."
Alanoth stopped snorting and suddenly tossed up his head, whickering in example to good behavior; Asfaloth was his elder brother.
"If we are to go through Mirkwood, let us go," Lothatal said shortly. "Horses and all."
They quickly dismounted and refilled their water-skins in a small creek trickling nearby, for they were wise enough not to drink the enchanted water than ran in the streams within the wood. Once again mounting their trembling horses at the deep growl of near thunder, the elves quickly left the fading daylight and entered the blackness of Mirkwood.