During the next two weeks or so, we travelled north at great speed, following the river. We came across many smaller streams and rivers along the way, but the mighty horse was able to ford the lesser ones, and there was always an adequate raft waiting for us to use at the larger ones.
During that time, I could have had a lot to be suspicious of. Firstly, the rafts were simply too convenient to pass over. How was it that someone should so thoughtfully provide us with transportation at every one of the waters the horse could not cross? We were not following any particular road, to my knowledge, and were wandering more or less randomly through sparsely treed areas. I asked my companion about this fact, but he just smiled and said that either the fates or the people are kind to us.
Now that I look back on those days, I can see a lot more. Besides the waybread, he also brought a sword. It was not as long as my father's, but one must wonder as to how a respectable baker had come across such a weapon. Perhaps I should also have noticed that he brought two bedrolls only – two, not three if he were intending to take my brother along with us.
In the later days, when the bread ran low, he would leave me beside the fire at evening and return about an hour later with meat or fish. It was either he was an especially good hunter, or – as I suspect now – someone or something was helping us along. During the journey we had met no one, but I could have had the sensation of being followed.
I could have realized all of these things during that trip, and thus could have avoided much trouble afterwards. However, I recognized none of those save only one, and blindly rode along with the baker.
We went past the mouths of Entwash and by the falls of Rauros. We did not go next to it, but heard its mighty roar nonetheless. North of that the land became flat, and there were many streams and wetlands. We had to leave the river for a while as it swayed eastwards above the South and North Undeeps. We crossed the River Limlight, and finally, by the afternoon of the twentieth day, came within sight of Lórien. I did not know any of these places at the time, of course. Only through study much later did I come to learn their names.
'Behold!' my friend said, gesturing towards the woods to our left. They were a marvellous sight; the sun was just setting beyond the faraway mountains, and it lit the treetops up like bright torches. The river was turned into rippling silver, and the field in which we stood became suddenly tinged with gold. 'That is the Wood of Lórien, the realm of the Elves.'
My heart was very glad. We dismounted and began to unload the horse. 'We make for the woods tomorrow?' I asked.
'No, dear. Tomorrow we must leave across the river.' He pointed across the wide Anduin to a faint outline of trees, northeast of us.
I frowned and bit my lip. 'I thought we were going to the Elves of Lórien?'
Laughing, he finished unloading. 'Nay. Those Elves are fair, aye, but also very perilous to the types of you and I. We are going to the forest of Greenwood the Great.'
I was confused. Greenwood the Great…that was an old name, its current name being, yes, Mirkwood. There was something about Mirkwood that I felt I needed to remember, but I could not. Normally the tales one hears are practically useless, but when one needs to remember them, they are unable of being recalled, or so I found then. There was an evil stronghold in Mirkwood, wasn't there? No…that was Minas Morgul…I gave up soon after.
'Aye, Greenwood. There are Elves there, do you not know?' I was immediately interested. 'There is a great Elven King to the north of the forest, and he rules over a large kingdom…'
And so he spent most of that evening telling me tales of this Elven king and his people. I fell asleep soon after a few were told. The next morning we crossed the river in a roughly made boat conveniently placed by the water, and we travelled towards Mirkwood. We arrived at its borders on the afternoon of the twenty-second day since we left Osgiliath. During the whole trip, I had gone on by the assumptions that my parents were safe, and my brother had made his way back from Osgiliath, so I did not doubt that I would see them again. However, Mirkwood would ultimately prove me wrong.
That night I slept fitfully, and awoke often. Once, I thought I heard my companion holding a conversation with someone else, but I could not be sure. Either way, the next morning I awoke tired, only to find we were not to take the horse with us into the forest. Therefore, we each carried some of the load, and then sent the horse back to wander as it would in the fields. The baker wore his sword openly now, and he passed me a sheathed knife. 'For any attacking squirrels,' he joked. I tucked it into my belt, feeling distinctly proud.
Once we entered the forest, I clenched my hand on its handle tightly. Although it was sunny and clear a moment ago, it was gloomy in the forest. I soon became very unsettled, for the trees seemed to have horrific faces etched into their bark, or else appeared to be the tall, spindly legs of some alien creature crawling over us. The very air seemed dense and oppressed.
Worst of all, it was utterly silent. Not a bird chirped from within the thickly interwoven branches overhead, and there was no buzz of insects as would be expected. When we spoke it was in hushed whispers, for there seemed to be a dark presence in this forest. Soon I began to see eerie eyes peering from between the trunks and from the undergrowth (I did not know how anything could grow below the canopy in such darkness), and I sincerely hoped they were the stuff of my imagination.
We were following what appeared to be a little-used path in the woods. At some places it was grown over with plants, but he seemed to know the way and never appeared to be lost. As we moved further on, I began to dread this place even more, until I could not take the feeling any longer. I asked if we could go back. He smiled wryly.
'And why should we? Our destination is very near, I feel. We should reach it before the end of the day.'
'What day? 'Tis so dark here, I doubt I shall be able to tell day from night. Pray, lead us out of this cursed, timeless forest!'
But he held fast, and we continued on. A few hours after we stopped and ate lunch, the darkness seemed to come alive. It felt as if the very path behind us was being swallowed by it. It was so terrifying then, with the eyes that were definitely real peering at us, and the gloom gathering itself into a single malevolent being. He spoke calmly: 'the sun is setting.'
When I thought I could not take any more, the forest suddenly fell away around us. I gasped.
We had come to a large hill in the midst of the forest, and the sky over it showed me it was indeed dusk. On top of a hill was a huge, sprawling shadow, which upon closer inspection was a fortress or castle of some sort, made entirely out of a sooty black stone. It had many doors of assorted sizes, and many towers poking out at irregular intervals and impossible angles. The place was a hideous sight, made worse by the shadowy figures that darted in the darkness. They seemed to be the ones whose eyes glowed eerily. The hill was tall and the figures far away, but I knew they sensed us.
'The Elves live here?' I asked in a hushed tone, subconsciously pulling my knife looser from its sheath. I could hear faint screeching, as if of large, horrible birds being tormented, and the sound seemed to come from the castle.
He laughed almost maniacally.
Author's Note: Oh dear…I told you she was naïve. I hope I got the travelling time right. Osgiliath to Mirkwood is about twenty-two days, right? Would you please review?
Dreamless Wind: I suppose, but I doubt Sam is this…err, trusting.