Strider opened his eyes and cast a shaking hand over them, he had slept little – the woods would have made sure of that alone but the dark memories of his dark past had beleaguered him through his sleep, memories well hidden ere the elfling Aurëil had come to him. Shuddering absently, the ranger gathered his pack – one hand all the time on the pommel of his sword and one eye all the time on the shadows of the Old Forest – then, when he was done, he pulled out his pipe and searched for a suitable rock on which to sit and think.
There was no going back, he thought gloomily as he settled down, or going forward for that matter – though it shamed him to admit but the skilled ranger had completely lost his bearings, with no sun to be seen he could not determine which direction he was headed; and the worst thing – something Strider would be certain his elven friend Legolas would surely scold him – was the fact that the whole forest looked so alike. He blew a smoke ring that wavered in the darkness ere being torn away on the wind.
From somewhere in the deep shadows there was an eerie, wavering noise, unlike any creature he had heard before – if it was indeed a creature. Strider looked again for his tinderbox and lit a branch and in his circle of reddish light he sat in deep thought for a while, trying hard to ignore the disconcerting calls from the darkness.
He would have to find the girl, he thought, if there was anything that could be sure in these woods it was that she would have some answers for him – it would be near futile, however, to try and search for her, though the Old Forest had long dwindled it was still extensive and the darkness made things hard threefold…but ere he could even start to think of where he would start he heard soft footsteps on the leaves. In one movement the ranger was on his feet, sword in hand. There she was. Like a pale light glimmering through the trees she came, softly she sang in the Quenya tongue which Strider could not understand, with her came three shadows skipping and skirting around her little body, of what these three shadows were the ranger could not tell – and when the little girl stepped lightly into the circle of ruddy light emanating from his torch they faded and were gone from her.
Strider didn't move; his sword was at arm's length, pointing at the seemingly harmless girl. She stepped forward slightly and the ranger took a step back, "Stay back, I do not wish to hurt you – but if you near me I shall,"
"You have no reason to harm me, Aragorn," – and Strider wondered for the second time how she knew his real identity – "and I have no reason to harm you,"
"Who are you?" the ranger asked the she-elfling for a second time.
"Aurëil," replied Aurëil calmly, in the same sorrowful voice.
Strider lowered his sword and knelt down – still keeping his distance from the girl, "What are you? Why are you here?" – Strider had so many questions that begged for answers that he didn't know what to ask first – "What were those shadows that were with you? What -"
He stopped, Aurëil had moved forward and laid a thin, shapely finger over his lips – it was cold to the touch; the ranger tried to move back, but something in the girl's deep, blue eyes held him where he was.
"Hush, child," she said softly, "you have many questions and they will all be answered…" she broke off and stood silently looking into the man's eyes – something that greatly unnerved the ranger.
She removed the finger from his lips and kissed him lightly on the forehead, Strider looked up at her and whispered: "Tell me why you are here alone, little lady, tell me – "
She stopped him again with her thin finger and touched his face gently, "I will show you," she said so softly it was a strain for Aragorn to hear her.
"How?" he asked naively as the girl bent her head and touched her forehead to his.
The darkness blurred into light and Strider found himself again in the forest – but it was different, he could hear birds in the trees above, feel the sunlight on his face as it spotlighted the forest floor through the high, green canopy; Aurëil was there as well, but she too was different – her face was full of colour and joy and she was dressed in a pale green dress rather than ghostly white, he reached out to touch her but she was always just out of reach somehow, he called her name but she did not turn round.
There was a rustle in a tree to the side and Strider reached for his sword but it wasn't there…out of an unusual parental urge he bought himself between the rustling foliage and the small elf girl – as if to protect her from what may come.
It was an elf. An adult, if Strider was any judge – but with elves it was so hard to determine their actual age – what the ranger did guess, however, was that this elf was in someway related to the small elf girl as the similarity in their faces was striking. Strider opened his moth to speak but he couldn't get any words out; the elf – a female – was walking towards them, bow in hand, arrow cocked. She kept glancing at the forest.
"What is wrong, naneth?" Aurëil asked her mother in a voice so different, it sounded happy and rich but at the same time full of adult concern,
"They are coming, child…they are almost here – you must leave now," replied Aurëil's mother hurriedly, she kept glancing at the woods all around – Strider looked too but there wasn't anything different about them from when he last looked.
"Who? Who are coming, naneth?" asked Aurëil urgently.
"Yrch!" she cried in answer, "Go, child, go!"
Orcs! Strider was groping for his missing sword again but it was hopeless, he scanned the woods, all senses alert and suddenly he heard them: the harsh, jeering voices of the vilest creatures…orcs.
The ranger turned back to Aurëil and her mother, the elder elf was helping her daughter into a tree, keeping her out of sight…
"Naneth…" Aurëil whimpered as he mother turned and drew her sword, the orcish laughter was nearing.
"I love you, Aurëil," cried the elfling's mother, glistening tears running down her cheeks.
Three suddenly orcs burst into the clearing where Strider, Aurëil and her mother were standing; the first fell under the elvish blade and was left writhing in the blackened, blood soaked grass, the second held back until another five fell beasts followed, cackling and taunting the she-elf.
Strider wanted to help, but he couldn't – he had tried to tackle the first orc, but to his surprise and dismay he had passed straight through it, the orc hadn't noticed and had kept attacking.
Now he was stood by Aurëil's tree, he couldn't see the elfling but he knew she was up there, being silent as her mother had wished.
Three more of the orcs had fallen, their black blood staining the grass and the she-elf's blade and hands, but there were more coming into the clearing, jeering and laughing in their hideous voices.
Strider heard the bowstring sing; he turned his head and saw the she-elf blanch, a black shaft had struck her in the breast and the blunt, rusted point had come out of her back. The green cloth she wore darkened as her blood spread from the wound.
Another orc to a swing and she fell to the floor with a wide gash in her side, more bright, scarlet blood gushed forth, though her fingers as she held her chest, running down her body in a crimson deluge, onto the grass where it mingled with the black orcish blood there.
The elf's eyes glazed and she toppled to the floor – Strider did not look away from this incredibly brave mother, giving up her life for the protection of her child, Aurëil; he said a quiet prayer for her – another orc hew her again, spilling more elvish blood onto the floor, and again the orc blades fell, and again and again, cleaving the elf though she was long dead…
Strider clenched his fists; a new hatred had arisen in him for the orc-kind, but that was all forgotten when he heard, from the tree above, a small sob – Aurëil was weeping, watching her mother being cruelly hacked by the orcs cruel blades.
The world wavered again and light turned to dark; Strider was back in the dark woods he had been in before – but then again he had never really left. He looked at the elf-child sadly and said: "I am so very sorry, Aurëil," but she shook her thin head, said nothing and tightly embraced the ranger, Strider hesitated and then hugged her back, a lone tear running down his cheek.