An update to a story that no one is reading.
Chapter 3: Wangst and scouts.
Kyra was very hungry. She had been travelling for three days, but she still couldn't eat anything after the ordeal with the berries. She had no idea what kind of berries they were, but she was sure that she wasn't going to be eating anything for a while. This made it hard to keep going, because her body gave ever more earnest demands for food. Her clothes were ripped and her bare arms were covered in cuts and scratches. She had fallen over onto the hard ground more than once, and it was frequently carpeted with a wild assortment of prickles and stones. She had managed to keep the sword, but it felt continuously heavier in her hand as she progressed. Kyra had considered dropping it five times already. She had abandoned her plan of going away from the river, because she had been unable to find any water at all. So now she would go in a large loop, going away in the morning and going back in the afternoon.
Right now she was returning to the banks, dragging the heavy metal behind her. The sky was a pale mix of pinks, blues, and yellows, and the sun was setting slowly. Off to the east there was a large blanket of dark grey clouds, though she couldn't tell where they were going.
A strong wind had picked up a while ago, and she shivered. It was so cold, and all she had on was her halter top and jeans. She let out an exaggerated sigh. Everything always happened to her. She got bad grades just because the teachers liked the nerds who studied more; her boyfriend had dumped her because she had wanted him to get her the five-hundred-dollar dress; and now she was stuck in some nature freak hole with no food in sight. Her infected hand had only gotten worse, and it was now leaking four different colours of pus. It had also been numb for a while, which was a relief because it meant that she could carry things with it again. Kyra wondered whether it was because it was so infected or because of the cold. She didn't care all that much either way, because as long as the hand worked it was fine by her.
The river had rejoined her; it was flowing just as loudly and swiftly as before. Kyra had never been much of a nature person, but now for some reason the sound of the water was very comforting. Around her the evergreens were bristling with needles, and between them an occasional deciduous tree would poke up like a wire sculpture. Every so often she saw small animals darting in and out of the trees.
For the fourth time in a day, she sat down. Walking was made much harder without proper nutrition, and her body was swiftly emptying its stores. Kyra remembered reading something about how an average human could survive for about four weeks without food. If a person was fourteen, that would probably mean they could go for three and a half weeks.
"Great. So what is there to eat out here? I'm not ripping apart some squirrel," she snarled. She picked the sword off the ground and flung it off into the trees. She spent the next five minutes snapping twigs and kicking soil around. Once she became bored with that, Kyra decided to lean against a tree feeling sorry for herself and sulking. The wind had almost disappeared by now, and everything had quickly gotten very quiet. If Kyra had chanced to look up she would have seen the dark clouds from before; now they were hovering overhead and espousing a very dark grey. Kyra didn't look up, but it scarcely made a difference, because at that moment it started to rain. She looked up and started swearing again, but not before she dove for cover underneath a particularly dense patch of branches.
It was still raining and dark when she woke up, and her hair was full of wet pine needles. The clouds were disappearing over the tree tops, and the rain gradually puttered out. Kyra got up and went down to the river for a drink. She wanted to start walking again for some reason. She went back to the area where she had tossed the sword and spent five minutes looking before she found it. This, she thought, is very strange. Maybe this is "getting your second wind"? Whatever it is, it'd better last.
She went with the river as it left the forest and opened onto a large barren plain. Off to the south the moon illuminated something that appeared to be a marsh. The wind was back again, but now it brushed by her gently. All seemed right in Kyra's world.
Unfortunately, that could not be said of everyone.
She wasn't alone, and hadn't been for a while. Two elves were trailing behind her, keeping Kyra in their sight but not coming close enough to risk attracting her attention.
"What," whispered the first, "is a child doing wandering near Eregion?"
"Perhaps it is one of the Enemy's spies?" The second elf shot another glance at the girl, who had suddenly started to sing. He grimaced and muttered something about it hurting his ears.
"With such an ugly voice, it would not surprise me in the least. Yet do you think the Enemy would take one so obviously brainless into his service? You could scarcely miss her from over twenty leagues away! She makes no effort to remain hidden."
"It may be a trick, a façade to lead us into a false sense of security. It carries a blade of Mordor!"
"Yes, she bears a sword which she obviously does not know how to wield or carry. I doubt she arrived with it; she is conspicuously without a scabbard."
"Really? Where then did it come from? The blade is not rusted, and it is not of the kind that the orcs use. 'She' is probably leading us to a wolf den."
The first elf smiled. "I would think that even a spy of the Black Land would make an effort to keep their hair clean. What she has done is nothing short of assault."
"But…, but…, the clothes. Unless the men of Eriador have changed greatly, their young wear actual tunics, not garish squares hung from the shoulders with pieces of string."
"I agree that her clothing is strange. But if she is a spy, then I do not understand why she makes for the Nîn-in-Eilph. There is nothing to be found there, unless He has developed a new taste for swans. If I were a spy, I would seek to discover Imladris with all speed, and make efforts to remain hidden. But this one walks openly, heading away from the House, and towards the Glanduin. If she does hope to take us into a wolf's den, then let us hope that the wolf devours her and is satisfied!"
"You are right; it makes no sense. I pity the wolf that would be so desperate as to eat something so profoundly disgusting. I would leave now, and watch to see if she follows. But I would also be wary and take the longer road to Imladris, lest she hopes to turn and let us lead her."
"All right, it is settled. We will return home, and report to Lord Elrond of a strange child wandering the wilds with a Mordor blade. If she follows, we shoot."
The second elf smiled. He and his companion backed away quietly, but Kyra never noticed them. She was lost in her own little bubble, singing and humming; the dawn was breaking over the horizon, and Kyra was coming closer to the joining of the Hoarwell and the Loudwater. The sun was bright and the sky was cloudless and right then she didn't really care about food or wolves or going home. She could see birds flying far off in the distance, and she figured that she could just catch some a bird and eat it. Meanwhile, the two scouts were making haste towards Rivendell, to tell the Lord Elrond of the things they had seen around Tharbad and the rivers.
Nîn-in-Eilph - Water of the Swans. Wetlands.
