The March
At dawn, the Elves marched from Arborlorn, to the wail of pipes and steady beats of drums; voices raised in a song, banners flying in vivid colors against a sky still dark and clouded. Alastor Elessedil rode at the head, gray hair flowing down chain mail forged of blue iron, his right hand holding firmly to the silver white staff at his waist. Allanon was at his side, a spectral shadow, tall and black atop a still taller and blacker Artaq, his warhorse. Behind rode the King's sons: Tam, cloaked in white and bearing the Elven standard of battle, a war eagle on a field of crimson; Rand, cloaked in green and carrying the banner of the house of the Elessedil, a crown wreathed in boughs set over a spreading oak. Mat, Perrin and Thom accompanied by three dozen hardened Elven hunters came next. This was quickly followed by the tireless gray and crimson of the Free Corps, six hundred strong. Pindanon rode alone at the front of his command, a gaunt, bent figure atop his warhorse, his battle scarred armor lashed about his body as if holding it in place. The army followed him, massive and forbidding, six columns wide and thousands strong, They numbered three companies of cavalry, battle lances pointed skyward in a forest of iron tipped shafts, four companies of foot soldiers with pikes and body shields, and two companied of archers bearing the great Elven longbows. The army was all clad in the traditional manner of the Elven warrior, lightly armored with chain mail vest and leather guards to assure mobility and quickness.
It was an awesome spectacle. Traps and weapons creaked in the early morning, flashed in dull glimmerings through faint light, and cast the Elves in half human forms that whispered of death. The people of Arborlorn came to watch the awesome proceedings. Atop the ramparts, on walls and fences, in fields and gardens, lining the way at every step, they came to wish good look and say goodbye with cheers of encouragement and hope with silences born with emotions that had no voice. Before the gates of the Garden's of life stood the legendary Black Watch, present to every man, lances raised in salute. The army moved on. Like a narrow black snake the army moved on to a bridge , crossed and passed into the silent woods beyond. The glitter of weapons and armor twinkled into darkness, banners slipped from view, and the strains of song, the wail of pipes, and the roll of drums faded into echoes quickly lost in the canopy of trees. By the time the lights rays burst through the dust and mist revealing the road the grand procession had disappeared from view.
For five days the army marched west from Arborlorn making their way through thick forest toward the Sarandanon. The rain had moved east into the borderlands leaving the sky a cloudless blue, the sun shining in the Elves. The Evidence of danger became more apparent as the Elves marched past town and villages. Elven families past on their way to the Home city with their possessions on carts or horses. Their homes and villages lay abandoned behind them. Terrifying creatures roamed the west freely, without a challenge, their frightened voices warned. The warned of dark and brutal monster that killed and disappeared as quickly as they came. Cottages had been stripped and homes violated, the Elves within left torn and broken. As the army marched past, they were showered with cheers of encouragement and cries of hope, yet their faces remained clouded with doubt.
The Elven army camped that night at the eastern end of the valley; at dawn on the following day, it begin the journey across the Sarandanon. The army marched past fences and cottages that still littered Elves everywhere. Few left here. Their heart was engraved in the land they farmed, and would not be frightened off easily. By midafternoon, the army reached the western end of the valley. In the distance beyond the land, the humped ridge of the Breakline rose up against the horizon. The sun already lay across the peak of the mountains, shining golden light spilling out of the rock. In the growing darkness of the eastern sky, the moon's whiteness glimmered faintly.