Destiny's Arrow
(Through the Mountain Pass)
Morning came. Steely, threatening clouds had gathered in the night. Through the one visible patch of clear sky, the travelers could see the beginnings of a thunderhead in the cloud bank that came rolling languidly over the mountains. They rode at a leisurely pace, hoping against the east wind that the storm would dissipate or change its course before they reached it. It did not.
The warmth of the sun was denied them as a chill wind whipped about the rocky feet of the Misty Mountains. All three elves donned long cloaks that, though they looked insubstantial, kept out a remarkable amount of the biting cold. They regarded the jagged peaks above as they discussed how best to ascend. At length, they agreed to let their steeds pick their road, for as surefooted as elves were, the horses they bred were even more so.
The beginning of the road leading to the wide pass was obscured. It had been purposefully neglected by the elves that once lived in the region to prevent curious and unwary travelers from straying too high into the mountains when foul things began to populate the cavernous bowels of the range. Even the Dunedain of the North could not have discerned it. After an hour or so of slow going, they found the true path, wide and even at first. As they ascended it became much steeper. The road grew narrow and the ground, rocky.
About noon, just as the company set out after their brief lunch, a light rain began to fall. It continued sporadically all day, but by mid afternoon it had grown heavier and by early evening the travelers were damp to the skin and chilled to the bone. None of them was in a particularly pleasant mood. Arwen had not spoken to Glorfindel beyond what had been absolutely necessary. He had not persisted in his attempts to make conversation, knowing that she was still angry with him. Celebrian spoke quietly to her daughter who replied with only nods and glances. The quiet added to the growing tension they all felt.
The afternoon wore on uneventfully. They had seen no sign of danger all day. Small birds chirped happily and, had the sun been out, it would have been a lovely day. As it was, the passage was growing tiresome at best. They had made a surprising amount of progress considering their increasingly rough path and the rain. When the way became too steep and rocky, they dismounted and led their horses. By late afternoon they had crested the pass and begun down the other side. But with early dusk came a feeling of foreboding.
A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had caught Glorfindel's eye as he surveyed the terrain for a suitable place for them to stop and stay the night. "Stop," he said suddenly. He felt hungry eyes on the back of his neck. Something was watching them—something malevolent. Something close. The two women sensed it as well. "Mount your horses," Glorfindel instructed in a too calm voice. Once astride his own steed, he unshouldered his bow. He closed the gap between himself and his companions. He would not be separated from the two precious ladies he had been charged to protect. They proceeded slowly. The road was still steep and strewn with loose stones.
Then, a sound rose above the footfalls of the horses. A chill ran up Arwen's spine as she realized it was a voice, but only barely recognizable as such. The scratchy gargling and metallic hisses of the speech identified it as an orkish voice. She had never heard anything quite like it; though her father, Glorfindel, and others had described the black speech to her many times.
Glorfindel understood a bit of the foul language and this, he understood. "Close the circle," it had said.
"GO!" he barked as much to Arwen and Celebrian as to his own horse. The women did not need to be told a second time. All three charged down the slope as quickly as their steeds could manage.
A clutch of large boulders rose up on either side of the path ahead. As they approached, four orcs sprang into view, hissing and spitting. Their greasy looking black skin contrasted the sadistically gleeful grins on their ugly, misshapen faces. Two crouched on the largest of the boulders and two more blocked the road.
Several more harsh shrieks went up behind the elves. Glorfindel did not look back. He had no intention of turning around. As he dropped the reins, he was furious with himself for not anticipating this attack. He knew he should have realized that this was the perfect place for an ambush. The road was narrow and treacherous and the enemy had the high ground ahead. The archer notched an arrow and took aim as his horse half cantered, half slid down the path. The gnarled black creature atop the boulder to the left of the path crumpled and fell. The elvish point had pierced his yellow eye.
Glorfindel smiled to see that both Celebrian and Arwen had drawn their swords. They were, by no means, helpless. Mother and daughter rode so close together, Arwen on the left, her mother on the right, that their legs touched. The two orcs that stood in their way did not stand a chance.
Arwen's horse laid back its ears, threw its head forward and snapped at the orc on her side. He recoiled, dropping his guard. The elf gave a fierce, angry cry as her blade whisked through the air. The orc's head hit the ground with a sickly thud next to his cruelly curved scimitar—his body wavered only a moment before buckling also.
Celebrian's steed began to skid down the way on its haunches. A sharp tug on the reins brought its head and chest high as it lifted off the ground. The horse lashed out with its front legs, pawing and screaming at the other orc. In his surprise, he also let his scimitar fall from the ready. Celebrian siezed her opportunity and slashed him from shoulder to hip, her sword skittering across his ribs and slicing deep into his belly, nearly disemboweling him. He clutched at the deep, raw, crimson wound, trying to hold it closed as he fell back and lay still.
Glorfindel had a bead on the last orc that threatened his companions. This one had remained crouched atop the right-hand boulder and watched, dumbfounded, as the elven women had slaughtered his comrades. But just as Glorfindel was about to release the arrow, his horse squealed in anger and pain. He felt the arrow's feathers slip between his fingers when his steed jerked sharply, sending the shot wildly off its mark. The elf overbalanced and felt the inevitable fall coming. He threw his bow aside. It would surely be splintered if he fell with it. The ground was far less than ideal for a fall. Glorfindel felt and heard at least one of his ribs crack on the largish cobble he smashed down on. A thick black shaft protruded from the animal's white hindquarter. His fall had knocked the breath out of him and he was momentarily unable to move. Glorfindel watched in horror as the last orc, who she had not seen, took careful aim and fired a small dart at Celebrian. It hit her squarely in the side of the neck. She reflexively clutched at it and quickly pulled it out. The deep cold that began to spread rapidly over her body told her it had been poisoned.
Arwen, who had ridden slightly ahead to check for more orcs, turned to a screech of rage in time to see the dark creature leap from the boulder down onto her mother in the failing light. The force of the compact creature's impact knocked Celebrian from her steed. She was already beginning to lose her strength and could do little to fight him off. He sank his sharpened teeth into the muscle between her shoulder and neck. A thin stream of her blood ran down her chest, soaking the silver-grey material of her traveling cloak. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. It was rapidly becoming difficult for her to breathe. Arwen spurred her horse back up the hill with a shriek as chilling as any the orcs who were rushing down toward them had voiced.
Meanwhile, Glorfindel winced in pain as he picked himself up. His horse trotted lamely to him. He was furious. Drawing his long blade from the scabbard on his saddle, he wheeled around to face the ten orcs who were tightening a semicircle in front of him. A fierce glare twisted his features. He drew a great breath and bellowed inarticulately at them as he charged forward. Half of them retreated back up the hill to safety. The elf ignored the shooting pain in his side as he slashed and cleaved the five orcs that had stood their ground.
When all his attackers lay bloodied and broken around him, Glorfindel charged toward Celebrian and her attacker. He meant to bring down his wrath in full on the foul monster. Even Celebrian's steed pawed and snapped at the orc who clutched at its mistress. The orc snarled and dug his grimy fingernails into Celebrian's sides, drawing ten small rivulets of blood.
Arwen reached them first. Celebrian was already unconscious. She realized that the orc was concentrating on her and her mother's angry horse, but had not realized or remembered that Glorfindel was coming from behind him. She began to yell and made a show of brandishing her sword to occupy him in the moment when, if he'd realized that Glorfindel was bearing down on him, he could have done something about it. Then, suddenly Glorfindel was there, sword naked and gleaming, alight with rage. The elf raised his sword high above his head and plunged the shining steel between the orc's shoulder blades. The look of shock on his revolting face was darkly comical, Arwen thought as she rode past smiling coldly. She rode toward the five remaining orcs that were quickly but cautiously heading back down the slope. An occasional arrow flew past. These orkish archers are very poor shots—Arwen thought—apparently they need a stationary target the size of a horse to do any damage. And with his back to them, no less. Animals. On horseback she herded them back up the road, away from Glorfindel and her mother. She kept watch on his progress over her shoulder. Satisfied that the orcs were gone for the moment, she rode back down the road, picking up Glorfindel's bow as she passed.
Though the effort caused him another stabbing pain, Glorfindel quickly lifted Celebrian's slack body and mounted her horse, cradling her in his arms. It was nearly completely dark. Arwen had repelled the rest of the band of orcs, but they would be back soon with reinforcements. Glorfindel whistled to his own horse and the three of them were underway again.
The road soon became gentler and they were able to advance at a tentative canter. They rode hard until they were well away from the mountains. The rain tapered off and the clouds broke. When they finally stopped, the nearly full moon was high in the sky. Arwen set about gathering athelas, whose leaves shone silver in the bright moonlight. Using what her father had taught her, she did what she could for Celebrian. She cleaned the gouges from the orc's filthy fingernails, though they already looked like they were becoming infected. She made a paste of the crushed leaves and some of the cordial of Imladris. Though Celebrian remained unconscious, by the time Arwen was finished, she was, at least, breathing normally again.
Glorfindel tended to his wounded steed. He removed the arrow which, thankfully, did not break off. Arwen procured a needle from her mother's bag while he heated water and boiled the long silver-white hair he'd plucked from the horse's tail. He cleaned the wound thoroughly and stitched it closed. After he'd finished, Glorfindel began to stroke the horse's fine coat and massage its weary muscles. He thanked the animal for its help, and whispered to it where they were going and the way.
When he had finished, he removed his shirt and allowed Arwen to inspect his injury. A large bruise had spread over his whole side. Arwen tried to be gentle as she probed the area with her slender fingers. She found the fracture quickly.
"CAREFUL!" Glorfindel yelped in pain when she pressed even gently on the bone.
"Breathe," she directed.
"I can't, woman. It hurts," he snapped.
"It isn't that bad, child," she said pressing in a little harder on the insult. He groaned loudly, but gritted his teeth and did not cry out. "It doesn't feel as though you've broken anything badly." She removed several yards of linen bandage from her pack and wrapped it tightly about Glorfindel's midsection. Though the actual wrapping was very painful, once she was finished he felt much better.
"Thank you," he said quietly as he pulled his shirt back on. He leaned against a smooth sycamore and settled in for the night's watch. Though she was exhausted, Arwen tried to stay awake with him. "Go lie down with your mother and sleep, dear one," he told her at last.
"No, I don't want to leave you alone," she answered even as her eyes drooped and she fought to keep them open.
"You are the most stubborn person I have ever known, Arwen. Go to sleep," he chided. He kissed her forehead. "Go," he said. She scowled at him, but obeyed, turning to go.
"Thank you, Glorfindel. Thank you for saving her," she said quietly. He only nodded. He did not feel able to accept her thanks. If I'd been paying more attention, it might not have happened, it shouldn't have happened at all—he told himself. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known," she said as though this time she'd been reading his thoughts. "Thank you."
"Of course," he smiled. She kissed his cheek, then lay down and fell almost immediately asleep next to her mother.
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AN: Okay! Here it is! The bug got me and I wrote it all at once from 3-5 AM. I haven't read over it really. I will. If I find anything glaring I'll change it. For all you accuracy geeks like me out there, this is (duh) where Celebrian gets the poisoned wound in Tolkien's timeline…2509, I think. So there's your frame of reference if you give a shit. Please write me a review even though I am horrible and have taken so long.
AN2: I'll send the next chapter to the person who writes the 100th review the day before I post it…you'll have the inside track! Just make sure to leave me your e-mail address.
AN3: Poster mj (Anonymous) was the 100th poster (for the record) but I need his/her e-mail address. If you'd like to contact me, mj, at wired136@hotmail.com I will be happy to honor my little bribe once I get things written and in order. And if you feel like prostrating yourself before me and telling me how great I am (just kidding ;-)), I might be willing to send it out to a couple other people.