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 VIII
It is past high noon. I have spent the entire morning searching for my father. I have found no trace of him.
It is as if he has simply disappeared into the air, become part of the wind and blown away; drifted onwards like a leaf fallen into the river. I do not even know that he is in this forest; yet the longer I dwell on the question, the more the answer seems clear. I would almost suspect that the forest-dwellers have taken him, except for the fact that the forest is so incredibly horrid this afternoon.
It is dark; darker than I have ever seen it before. I know that anyone must think 'dark' is an understatement – after all, it is the Dark Forest. But I cannot explain this feeling. It is an air of morbidity that clings to every branch, clings to every limb – tree limbs and my limbs alike. I feel tired, as though it would be best for me to lie down and nestle in the leaves. Each time I scan the forest for Father, I see shadows flickering at the edge of the vision. I am afraid, terribly so; I am afraid that there is something else in the forest with me.
I wonder if this shadowy darkness I feel is fear. It is not the sort of fear I have ever felt or heard of before; not the wild-eyed, dry-throat, sweating hands fear, and not the clogging, freezing control. It is something that lurks, and makes one feel that whatever is coming is inevitable. I have already forgotten my purpose in this forest several times.
My Father must be found, gods allow it! If you do not allow it, I will find him anyhow. No obstacles must stand in my way. The greatest obstacle, I believe, is the one that follows me along with the darkness in this forest: my hope that I will see the one I saw before, again.
I wish to see the light reflect off his golden hair again, though there is scarce light in the forest today. I wish to see his eyes – no one would believe how much time I have spent wondering about the colour of his eyes. Are they green, or are they blue? What hues do they have? I am terrified of my expectations – terrified that they might come true.
Wait; there is something – I caught sight of something, off in the underbrush. I do not want to look, but I must.
I turn slowly to my right, in the direction of the slight flicker in my vision. I hope that it is not a feral beast. Something is shining, over there in the darkness…I take a step towards it, and it glints red. I swallow a scream and peer closer.
That is when it growls.