Disclaimer: "The Lord of the Rings" and all related items belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. This is merely an excursion into Middle Earth as it transitions from a land of hobbits and elves to the domain of man.
The Dark Forest: Part III
At times I wish the town was always this peaceful. The supper bell has rung, and all of the children have been called back to their homes by their mothers. Their fathers, in turn, have already wended their way home, axes or game slung over their shoulders. I watched them come in.
I am not supposed to be out here, sitting on a high rock in the middle of the riverbed. I am supposed to be in the kitchen, with the servants, preparing our evening meal. But these days, I cannot find enough time away from my family. Time that is valuable; used for thinking and contemplating.
I wish so much to speak to my sister! I am so sure that she would know what I should do. But I cannot. She hates the wood-dwellers as much as I do.
It must have been over a week ago. Perhaps more. I was in the Dark Forest, gathering herbs. I do not like gathering herbs, although I like being in the Forest. It was I who offered to go, for Mother felt sick. We gather the herbs and make remedies for the elderly. That has garnered Mother some unfair rumour, which, unfortunately, has made Father even more of a hermit than usual. But she swears by her cures, and I must also do as she says.
I have my own suspicions for Mother's sickness, but I dare not tell anyone. Perhaps Melin knows of it; she has become Mother's confidante in everything. I am simply the arrogant younger sister who condescends to run errands every once and a while.
I had gathered herbs and was contemplating the patch of wolf's bane alongside the path. Children often run off into the forest, and wolf's bane is fatal. I had spoken of it to Mother once before, and she had agreed that it should be uprooted or transplanted to another spot. Then I heard the slightest of rustlings; perhaps even the breeze, except that it transfixed me to the spot.
What rustlings can be beautiful and full of music? What breeze carries a pure, melodic voice? The harmonies that rushed into my mind glowed with a white health that I could not understand. And then, it was gone. I immediately forgot the wolf's bane and stared off into the forest. There was nothing – no one – there except the dark, glowering shadows beneath the canopies and under the brush.
I have been told never to leave the path, unless it is to one of the designated spots that Mother and I have traveled. I disobeyed her order. I ran heedlessly into the forest, looking every which way for some evidence of the faint, minute rustling.
Nothing, and then nothing…and then the flash of gold. So brief that I thought I must have been dreaming, but I was not. I peered around a gnarled black oak and then I froze.
It was his hair that glinted so golden, as he bowed his head and inspected the sleek longbow in his hands. I must admit that I cared nothing for the workmanship. I had eyes for only him. A forest-dweller – yet one so beautiful, so transfixing…I breathed out slowly and took in a deep breath. At that moment he looked up. I fancied that he had seen me; that he would kill me as my mother said all forest-dwellers would; but his eyes – such piercing eyes – looked past me.
I closed my eyes, afraid to look again for fear of being found, and when I opened them, he was gone. Since then my heart has been in turmoil.
I have had dreams of him – I have had dreams of the forest – each night; even in the daytime. Even as I sit here I can recall his features and the stillness that penetrated the forest that day. I am frightened; terribly so. It is thought to be a bad omen – seeing a forest-dweller – and yet I cannot help but wonder if I am in love.