As Galadwen walked, the stifling cloud continued to occupy the night sky. It blocked the starlight, filling the night with deep darkness. Now, many hours north of Gladden Fields, the land was once more bare open planes, broken only by infrequent ridges stretching from the Misty Mountains to the Anduin river. The only trees in sight were isolated silhouettes dotting the river bank. The large dark Anduin River flowed silently by about a hundred yards to Galadwen's right as she followed it north.
Galadwen raised her hood against a cold damp wind that blew down from the Misty Mountains. She breathed it in deeply, trying to smell for any hint of orcs. There was none, but that did little to ease the tension building between her shoulder blades. The exposed openness of the planes filled Galadwen with unease. Straining her ears, she could hear nothing but the sound of her footsteps and the sighing of the wind brushing the long grass. On she walked. As Galadwen's unease grew, her anxiety pressed at her to move faster, to flee the exposed planes, to run. But she had to conserve her energy and she refused to give her fears any power over her. So Galadwen forced herself to keep walking at a steady pace.
It was a long walk, and Galadwen felt her thoughts wander. Remembering the dark places her mind had gone on the lonely run north, Galadwen was fearful of her thoughts. So she focused only on her surroundings. Her controlled strides, the weight and movement of the weapons on her back, and the cloak wrapped about her. The cool wind that brushed past her face and the soothing sounds of it blowing through the grass. But the walk was long and time passed slowly. To focus on only one thing for an extended time was tiring. Eventually, Galadwen hesitantly let herself think about things beyond her present surroundings.
Surprisingly, Galadwen found she was not the same elf that she had been a few days ago during her disturbing run north. The anger that she had held deep inside for most of her life was gone. Now she knew her father and his love for her and her mother. She still held a dislike for the politics of the elven court. But she could not hate them for how she had been treated. Not now. If she had learnt anything from her time in the Gladden Fields, it was that life was too short and uncertain to waste it on agonizing over the past.
Galadwen was climbing a small ridge as dawn finally started to draw near. Her mind and body were ready for a break from the monotony of continuous walking. Galadwen turned her back on the cold wind blowing from the Misty Mountains and traversed the ridge to reach the top near the Anduin. The river had carved a path through the land, leaving sheer cliffs on either side. Galadwen found a comfortable looking rock on the edge of the cliff to rest while she welcomed in the new day. With her back to the wind, her feet dangled over the water far below. Galadwen took a waterskin and food from her satchel. Munching on one of Ella's buns and some dried fish, Galadwen watched the grey dawn lighten before the sun finally crested the horizon. It washed the landscape in the fresh golden light of a new day. As Galadwen felt the sunshine hit her face, the cold damp wind suddenly stilled. The morning had arrived.
With the wind suddenly stilled, hundreds of midges rose in mass in slow spirals around Galadwen. Mere moments later, the cliff below her came alive with the graceful swooping of swallows. Entranced, Galadwen watched the fluid dance of the swallows as they ducked and dived about the spirals of midges.
Galadwen could have sat there all day watching the nimble flight of the swallows, but she felt the urgency of her quest tugging at her. The swallows and the midges paid her no mind as she stowed her waterskin, climbed to her feet, and with one last glance at the vista before her, turned back to her quest.
As Galadwen descended the far side of the ridge, the sun was hidden by the dark cloud above, casting her surroundings into a false twilight. No longer banished by the sunlight, the bitter wind returned, blowing down from the snow-covered peaks of the Misty Mountains.
The open plain before Galadwen stretched far into the horizon. Although she had been walking for hours, the unchanged landscape before her made Galadwen feel she had only been walking for minutes. With no sun nor change in scenery to mark the passage of time or distance travelled, Galadwen felt her mind getting confused. Had it been hours? Surely night was nearing. Galadwen looked to the clear sky in the east for a hint of the time. But the oppressive cloud now stretched as far as she could see in all directions. There was no telling the time. Galadwen told herself that it did not matter. She just had to keep walking north. So with the Anduin on her right and the tiny peaks of the Misty Mountains far in the distance on her left, Galadwen continued north with determined strides.
As she continued walking in the incessant twilight, Galadwen again felt unease at being exposed on the plain. Orcs would emerge from their dark holes during the day only if forced. But they would roam freely at night and during twilight. Twilight, much like the never-ending light Galadwen found herself walking in. The suffocating cloud felt unnatural to her. As if the Dark Lord himself was bending the world to his will. Galadwen could only hope that it was not because of her or the quest she was on.
Although time passed slowly for Galadwen, it did pass. The twilight eventually started to turn to the complete darkness of night. With a sense of relief at the change in an otherwise unchanging landscape, Galadwen crouched down amongst the long grass. Sitting, she could barely see over the tops of the long stems swaying around her. Lying down on her back, Galadwen felt hidden from all but the eyes of an eagle. Sheltered from the persistent wind, Galadwen feasted on Ella's buns and dried fish. Nestled in the grass, listening to it sigh as the wind brushed the tops of the long stems, Galadwen felt her unease lift and float away on the wind. She would have drifted off to sleep if she had been able to. But even though she felt safe, Galadwen knew it was not safe enough for her dreaming. With her quest calling her on, Galadwen gave a heavy sigh, then standing, she continued her walk north.
The night passed much like the day had. Slowly, with no change in the landscape. At the slightest hint of the coming dawn, Galadwen found a sheltered spot near the bank of the Anduin to rest and greet the new day. Eating the last of Ella's buns with a little of the dried fish, Galadwen lowered the hood of her cloak and looked expectantly to the east. The Anduin, though still a large river, was noticeably smaller than it had been the morning before. It silently flowed before her, deep, dark, and swift. The far bank rose to a small hill, obscuring all view of the forest beyond. It was towards this ridge that Galadwen stared, waiting expectantly for the sun to rise. But the dark cloud now stretched to the horizon. All she saw was the gradual lightening of the sky from full dark to twilight.
Other than the sound of the wind, the morning was unnaturally silent. Even the birds would not sing a morning greeting in this strange twilight. The unnatural darkness and silence reminded Galadwen of the deep dark of the void that she had seen was the almost certain future fate of the world. She rolled her shoulders and raised the hood on her cloak to shield herself from the unnerving silence. Galadwen was long past being unnerved by the void, so she would not let this unnatural darkness and silence disturb her.
With a final longing glance towards the unseen sunrise, Galadwen adjusted her weapons to stand up when movement on the distant ridge caught her eye. Transfixed, she stared at the bobbing shape moving along the top of the ridgeline. Another joined it, then another. The moving shapes slowly materialized into thirteen orcs traversing up the far side of the ridgeline in a northerly direction. They crested the top, and still walking north, slowly descended towards the river. Galadwen held her breath as a gust of wind buffeted at her back. A moment later, one of the orcs on the ridge stopped. With nose to the air, Galadwen could see him smelling the wind. After a shove from his companion, the orc turned and continued along the ridge.
Galadwen clenched her fists in frustration. These orcs were most likely also travelling to the Old Ford. They were far enough away that even her sword had not warned her, but Galadwen knew that if they were travelling to the ford, that would have to change. She did not want to fight them, but she needed to be close enough to see where they went so she could avoid them. The last thing she wanted was to be caught out and have to fight them all in close contact at the Old Ford. Galadwen doubted she would walk away from such an incident.
She would stay hidden, stalking them like prey to the Old Ford. Galadwen was all too aware that if she was discovered, she would quickly become the hunted. With a resigned sigh, she loosened the grip on her fists and settled back to wait. The patience of an elf and not the hastiness of a man was required.
The small band of orcs slowly trudged along the far ridge. Galadwen waited until they were nearly beyond her sight before she finally rose and followed them north. The cold westerly wind buffeted her as she started forward at a slow pace through the tall grass and reeds growing next to the river. It was a hard and treacherous route, with small rocks that slipped and moved underfoot. But Galadwen felt the extra protection from unwanted eyes that the tall reeds offered was worth the trouble. She would have been too exposed on the open plain to even a casual glance back by one of the orcs.
Twice Galadwen cursed her mixed-blood as she stumbled while trying to watch the orcs. They were getting too far ahead. She could barely make them out at all now. Fighting a fear that she would lose them, Galadwen had one final glance up at the orcs before setting her shoulders and closing her eyes. Looking to the immediate future, Galadwen used her gift to guide her steps as she hurried after the orcs.
Focused as she was on her movements, time passed quickly for Galadwen. It wasn't until a humming in the back of her mind brought Galadwen out of the immediate future. Stopping with surprise, Galadwen opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. The night was nearly upon her, and to Galadwen's horror, she was even with the pack of orcs. They hurried along the other bank, close to the river, and at a pace significantly faster than earlier. Galadwen watched them closely for any sign that they had seen her. Travelling at a loping run, all eyes were lowered as they concentrated on their path ahead. Focused on their destination, Galadwen dared to hope that they had not seen her. But the continuous hum from Dargorlin was a constant reminder of the danger. Galadwen now realised the limitations of looking to the immediate future. It was like tunnel vision. She could only focus on herself and her immediate surroundings. She had been blind to the progress of the orcs. It seemed that anything beyond her immediate surroundings was obscured by the focus that was required.
Another dark shadowy night was falling. Although Galadwen could see in even this unusually dark night, she was all too aware of the superior night vision of the orcs. So, with care, Galadwen stealthily continued north at a slow pace.
Like a moving shadow, Galadwen cautiously rounded a bend in the river. The orcs on the far bank were disappearing into a grove of weeping willows. There was also a grove of willows up ahead on her side of the river. The river between the two small groves was wider than usual. The sound of flowing water told Galadwen that the water was shallow enough up ahead to be disturbed by the stony riverbed. From what Toron had told her, Galadwen realised she had reached the Old Ford mentioned in many stories.
Long ago, in the First Age, dwarves built a magnificent bridge that spanned the river at this very site. Hewn from stone cut during the construction of the pass through the Misty Mountains to Rivendell. The gracefully arching bridge was a testament to the skills of the dwarven masons of the First Age. Then when the first men fled west from Hildórien, some decided to settle on the eastern side of the great Anduin Bridge. In old Westron, this settlement became known as Bridgeton. The trade across the Anduin meant Bridgeton grew to become a large prosperous town.
As the Age progressed, the lords of Bridgeton became greedy and built a gate on the eastern end of the bridge. They charged a tariff to anyone who wished to cross the bridge. This enraged the dwarves, who saw the bridge as their own, built for the free use by all to enable swift passage and trade between the lands. Dwarven armies from Erebor and Moria descended on Bridgeton. The people of Bridgeton were driven from their homes, and the dwarves destroyed the gate and the township. In retaliation, the men of Bridgeton blew up the bridge.
This conflict may have escalated if not for the elves of the Vales of Anduin. Wanting to avoid further conflict, the elves negotiated peace between the dwarves and men. It was agreed that the dwarves would rebuild the crossing if the men dispersed and would not settle there again. And so it was that the people formally of Bridgeton left the area, with some going south to Gladden Fields, some north to, and only a few travelled back east. The dwarves constructed the great ford, as it could not so easily be destroyed. The dwarven masons were indeed correct. The Old Ford has withstood everything, even against the test of time. Now, in the Third Age, the Old Ford still provides the only crossing of the Anduin north of Osgiliath.
Chiding herself for letting her mind wander, Galadwen returned her focus to the agonizingly slow movement. Fearful of orc sentries, the last five hundred yards to the stand of willows was terrifyingly slow going. Staying completely hidden amongst the reeds, Galadwen inched forward in a crouch. With each step, she expected an orc arrow to come flying out of the darkness, as the humming in the back of her mind slowly increased.
With some relief, Galadwen finally reached the nearest weeping willow without incident. She slipped through the trailing branches of the tree to the protective shelter beneath. Taking a moment to greet the tree, Galadwen felt herself relax. She was far from safe, but even a small rest from the slow and silent movements was a relief. Galadwen could have stayed talking to the tree all night, but she knew that the safety she felt at being under the tree's branches was an illusion.
Galadwen took her bow off and quickly checked it over. As long as she could stay hidden, the bow was her best defence. But if it came to a fight, Galadwen knew the close confines of the thicket would make the bow ineffective. She would have to depend on her limited sword skills. Galadwen sent a quick prayer to Elbereth for protection. With a steadying breath, Galadwen silently slipped through the branches of the willow and inched forward into the wood.
It was so dark under the shadows of the trees that Galadwen could almost believe she was far underground, away from all light of the world. The sound of the river flowing over the stones of the ford up ahead hid any sound that she may have made. It also made it impossible to listen for any orc movements. Slow step by slow step, Galadwen drew into the wood until she reached a well-worn track that intersected her path. She could see it had once been paved and wide enough for two carts to pass each other, but time and nature was slowly claiming it back. Crouching low, Galadwen emerged onto the track to warily look up and down it for any sign of orcs. There were no recent orc marks in the soft ground, nor any hint of their foul smell.
Turning towards the sound of the river, Galadwen cautiously crept along the track. She did not see, hear, or smell any signs of orcs as she made her way to the river. The sword still hummed quietly in the back of Galadwen's mind. The hum increased slightly as she neared the river. When she reached the river edge, Galadwen crouched down in the shadow of a willow tree to study the ford. Even while she studied the river, Galadwen could not help but raise her hand to the trunk beside her and greet the tree.
The ford was wide, nearly one hundred yards across. There was a calm strip of water over what must have been the old paved ford. Either side of it were the remains of stone pillars sticking out of the river at regular intervals. And beyond those, the river bubbled and gurgled as it flowed swiftly over the uneven surface of large river stones.
Despite the remains of the pillars, Galadwen would be completely exposed to any watching eyes if she crossed here. There were no signs of the orcs on this side of the river, which meant the orcs she had seen earlier must still be on the other side. They could cross at any time. Or they could camp out in the opposite grove for days. Galadwen had used all the time she dare spare at Gladden Fields, so could not wait days, but to cross now would surely mean an orc arrow to the chest.
Toron had warned her that the river was too swift and treacherous to cross elsewhere without a boat. But she could not cross here while the orcs watched and waited in the protection of the wood on the far side. Her only option was to draw the orcs out. Make them cross now so she could sneak past them. It was a risky option. She could just as easily become trapped by the orcs and forced to fight her way out. Galadwen did not need her gift to know her chances of surviving that scenario were very slim. Especially since she had no idea how many orcs were on the far side of the river. There could only be the band of thirteen that she had seen, or there could be many more. Even if it was only the one patrol, she could not take them all on directly and survive.
Galadwen wished she had the luxury to explore all the possibilities of her near future, so she could choose the best option to cross the river. But it was too dangerous to spend more than a minute or two in the future, and Galadwen knew it would take far longer than that to see all the possibilities. She would just have to use her best judgement, from the limited real-life experience she had, to decide on a plan to narrow down the possible futures.
Staring across the river, Galadwen contemplated how to bring the orcs over to her side. Exposing her presence and taunting them would do it, but she didn't want them to be on their guard and looking for her. Even the dimmest of orcs would think that alone elf taunting them was a trap. She would be safest if they didn't know an elf was here. But then how would she get them to cross? Galadwen leaned against the tree trunk and wondered if there was a way she could use her tree singing skills to draw them across. Maybe she could get the trees on the other side of the river to scare them over. But even if she could pass a message to the trees on the other side of the river, they were still asleep so could do no more than twitch a branch or two.
Galadwen raked her brain for another idea, searching through everything Toron had taught her for some inspiration. Thinking of Toron, Galadwen wondered what he would do in her situation. Whatever he would have done, Galadwen knew it would have been clever and sure to succeed. With a sigh of frustration, Galadwen opened her satchel and took out the last of the dried fish and half a lembas bread. Nibbling alternately on the bread and fish, she gazed out over the river, towards the far stand of willows.
She wished she could see the orcs and know how many there were and what they were doing. Galadwen knew very little of orcs, but she tried to imagine what they would be doing. They had been hurrying to the willow grove, so it must be their destination. She imagined them lounging around a campfire eating something horrible. Perhaps they had met with another patrol in the wood. There would be sentries keeping a lookout across the ford and possibly on either side of the wood. In times like these, they would not be expecting trouble. But perhaps they would not be surprised to find other orcs, maybe come down from the Misty Mountains. That thought gave Galadwen an idea.
She hurriedly ate the last couple of mouthfuls of food before taking a long drink from her waterskin. It was nearly empty, so being careful to stay in the shadow of the willow, Galadwen approached the river edge. The cold water washed over her hand as she lowered the waterskin into the river. With the fast flow, it filled quickly. Galadwen soon had the plug in and it back in her bag. With particular care to leave no tracks, Galadwen made her way back down the path through the wood.
Just as Toron had explained to her, the path lead straight through the grove and out into the grasslands beyond. On the edge of the wood, next to the path, Galadwen found the campsite that Toron had described. The campsite consisted of a fire pit in the centre of the clearing, and areas of ground that had been worn smooth by the sleeping mats of many passing travellers. By the faded scuff marks on the ground, Galadwen could see that orcs had been the last to use the campsite, but it was many days ago.
Toron had said that in times past, travellers had left a stack of firewood next to one of the trees. Galadwen could see no stack now. She had nothing to cut firewood, but the scarcity of travellers meant there were plenty of broken branches lying around. Galadwen set about collecting a couple of armfuls. While she worked, Galadwen muttered words and phrases of Black Speech under her breath, trying to remember everything Toron had taught her of that guttural language.
After she had finally collected a large pile of firewood, Galadwen started a fire in the fire pit. When the fire was crackling away nicely, Galadwen loaded it up with green branches. The fire started to emit streams of smoke that lazily rose in a grey column between the canopy branches before being whipped away by the westerly wind. Galadwen watched the fire until she was satisfied that it would continue to steadily emit smoke. Then she took off down the track towards the Anduin River.
Galadwen looked out over the ford towards the stand of willows. There was no movement yet, but she knew there would be an orc sentry looking out over the ford, much like she was. Galadwen took a deep breath, drawing on her life force to help project her voice over the babble of the river, she started talking in a loud guttural voice. She was unsure of the sentence structure and many joining words of Black Speech, but she knew enough for this purpose. Galadwen spoke as she imagined another orc would greet a comrade. When she got to particular words like "feast", "celebrate" and "blood", she rose her voice into a shout of excitement, hoping that with the help of her life force, it would carry across the river. Galadwen spoke like this for a handful of minutes before she finally saw movement on the other side of the ford.
An orc had emerged from the trees and was hesitantly crossing the ford. Galadwen stayed where she was and kept talking in Black Speech. When the orc was about a third of the way across, he stopped and signalled back behind him. More orcs emerged out of the wood. Galadwen gasped in fear as she tried to count them all. They were too tightly bunched for an accurate count, but Galadwen could see there were far more than the thirteen she had seen earlier. There were over two dozen, if not three. A knot of fear formed in her stomach as the hum of her sword started to increase in volume. She knew, without a doubt, that if these orcs found her, a fast death in battle was the best she could hope.
Despite her fear, Galadwen kept to her plan. She backtracked down the path, still talking towards the ford as she went. When she was about halfway between the campsite and the ford, Galadwen stopped. The path was starting to fill with smoke from her fire. It hid her scent from the orcs while confirming to them that someone was in the wood. Crouching down on the path, Galadwen could just see the light of the opening at the ford. She kept talking, watching it closely until she saw shadows filling the opening.
Staying low, Galadwen crept off the path and into the thicket. Moving as quickly as she could, Galadwen stealthily walked about thirty yards into the wood until she was well hidden. Then she silently crept parallel to the path, towards the river. As the orcs passed her, Galadwen felt her heart pound in her chest as she listened to them talking in excitement. There were so many of them at an uncomfortably close distance. The hum of her sword was an angry buzz in her mind that set her nerves a jitter.
As Galadwen reached the river, she pulled her hood up and hurried along the river bank back towards the ford. The hum of her sword had quietened, and looking down the path, Galadwen could not see the orcs in the dimness of the wood. There would be just mere moments before the orcs found the empty campsite and discover that they had been tricked. She had not a moment to lose.
It was then Galadwen realised that she had been so caught up in her plan that she had forgotten to check the future to see if it would succeed. Galadwen cursed her stupidity. She was committed now. There was no time to view more than the immediate future. Closing her eyes, Galadwen looked to the future as she stepped out of the shadows and into the cold water of the ford.
Within a couple of steps, the fast-flowing water was mid-calf depth. The cold water seeped into her boots, washed past her greaves and dragged at her leggings. The ford was still relatively even, and with the help of her vision of the immediate future, Galadwen easily avoided the occasional hazard. She hurried across at a fast walk, feeling the cold water drag at her legs with each step. The loud babble of the river on both sides of her drowned out any other sounds. So Galadwen did not hear the shouts of surprise when the group of orcs found the empty campsite, nor the arguing of their commanders as they tried to assign blame.
Galadwen breathed a sigh of relief as she reached shadows of the far wood without incident. Her sword still buzzed angrily in the back of her mind, so Galadwen did not dare stop looking to the immediate future. That fact saved her life. Only a few steps into the wood, she saw an orc, short in stature with long arms and hunched back, jump out from behind a tree and run her through with a jagged sword. Galadwen stumbled backwards in surprise, then a second later, the orc from her vision jumped out and lunged at Galadwen. Continuing her stumble backwards, Galadwen fell out of the orc's range, nearly losing her feet.
"I knew it was a trick," the orc spat in Black Speach, through broken teeth, stained a brownish-red. Then it came at her again. With her vision to assist her, Galadwen saw the orc's second attack before it arrived. She lunged to the side out of the reach of its blade.
The orc yelled in anger as it charged her. In her vision, the orc blurred into a couple of possibilities. Galadwen twisted to avoid both possible arcs of the jagged blade. The movement put her off balance, so she could not completely avoid the following backhanded blow that struck her on the side of the knee. Galadwen stumbled into a tree, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs and her mind from the immediate future. As she struggled to draw breath, the orc came at her again. Drawing on her life force, Galadwen drew her sword in a blur of speed. A clang rang out as her sword blocked the orc's blow only inches from her throat. Dargorlin glowed with a faint blue light in the deep dark of the wood. In the light of her sword, Galadwen saw a look of surprise in the orc's eyes as it stared at Dargorlin. She finally managed to draw in a breath. The stink from the close proximity of the orc nearly made her gag. Galadwen shoved the orc away from her. Taking another deep breath, she assumed a defensive stance.
The orc had fallen away from her. The shock on its face was gone, replaced with an angry snarl. But despite attacking in anger only moments ago, it now seemed wary of her. Galadwen took a cautious step towards the orc, changing her sword position to the offensive as she did, ready to strike. The orc seemed to make up its mind then. Before Galadwen could attack, the orc turned and fled along the straight path into the wood.
"Elven witch," the orc shouted in Black Speach as it ran. "Elven witch!"
Galadwen dropped her sword and in an instant had unslung her bow. Taking an arrow from her quiver, Galadwen fired it into the fleeing orc's back. As it fell in a dark heap, Galadwen heard a horn blow from the direction the orc had been running. The alarm had been raised.
Galadwen dared not spare even a second to curse her luck. Instead, she slung the bow over her back and collected her sword. It continued to buzz, but not as loud as it had been moments before. Galadwen sheathed Dargorlin before taking off into the thicket to her left. She ran quickly but quietly, looking to the immediate future to ensure her safe and silent passage. If the orcs could not hear her, she hoped it would take them some time to determine which way she had gone, giving her a precious head start.
As she ran, the horn continued to sound. It was answered by another horn on the other side of the river. All of the orcs would soon be on her trail. The knot of fear tightened in Galadwen's stomach, but she slowed her run to a fast walk. All too aware of the limitations of looking to the immediate future, Galadwen continued in the present, using all her senses to walk silently and check for danger. She would not flee blindly in fear. She needed a plan or she would surely die.
There were too many orcs to out manoeuvre them all in the wood. But when she left it, there would be very little coverage to hide her. Out in the open, she could out run them, but for how long? She did not wish for another near-death run like the one to Gladden Fields. And where would she run? She could not cross the river again and go east, and there was no cover south. She could try to lose them in Mirkwood, but the rumours of evil things hiding in the southern part of the forest swayed her against that. It was two days walk to the skin changer's lands. It would not take long to run that, but what type of guest would she be if she brought orcs to his door? Even with the help of the skin-changer, they would be lucky to survive a fight with three dozen orcs. If she skirted his lands and could find the Forest Gate herself, then she could take the path to the Elvenking's Halls. Surely the orcs would give up the chase when she got close to his halls. Deciding that was her best option, Galadwen now needed to find a way out of the grove without being seen.
The trees were starting to thin, and Galadwen could see faint light ahead. She was nearing the edge of the wood. Galadwen stopped to consider her options and suddenly noticed that the wood was silent. The horns had stopped blowing.
Taking a moment to think of the best way out of the wood, Galadwen saw a movement in the trees ahead of her. A silhouette paced with agitated irregular movements about ten yards ahead. Galadwen saw it was an orc by the large head on hunched shoulders. Silently and without any sudden movements, Galadwen slowly unslung her bow and notched an arrow. Raising the bow to take aim, she looked to the immediate future, and after a pause, let loose the arrow. It flew true, and the orc in front of her collapsed without a word. Galadwen cautiously approached the orc. He lay unmoving on the ground, with the arrow protruding from his temple. She looked around for any signs of other orcs. She could see none.
Swallowing down bile, Galadwen bent to retrieve her arrow from the orc. She tugged at it, but it did not budge. Pulling harder, it still would not move. She braced one foot on the orc's thick neck and pulled with her whole body. With a loud pop, the arrow finally came away. Galadwen was horrified to see gore dripping from the arrow shaft. Swallowing down her disgust, she wiped the arrow clean as best she could on the orc's dirty clothing.
Standing and returning the arrow to her quiver, Galadwen assessed her options. Wary of other eyes in the forest or from the wood on the other riverbank, she decided the best option to sneak away would be how she snuck in on the other side. Keeping an eye out for any other sentries, Galadwen followed the forest line to the river bank. She reached the river bank without encountering another orc. Like on the other side of the river, the bank was lined with reeds tall enough to hide her from any observing eyes. Also, like on the other side of the river, the ground between the reeds was slippery and treacherous. Galadwen took it as slow as she dared, constantly weighing the risk of being seen with the risk of the orcs tracking and catching up to her.
When she was about two hundred yards from the willow grove, Galadwen came across a rough track. Cut into the rocky bank, it wound up the hillside. Looking up river, the hillside became steeper and covered in bracken, with bare cliffs crowning the ridge not far beyond her. From her memory of the maps she had studied before leaving Lothlorien, Galadwen knew the river passed through a gorge north of the Old Ford. This track may very well be her last opportunity to get over the ridge. So, with a steadying breath, she left the tall reeds along the riverbank. In a low crouch, Galdwen started up the track.
About thirty yards up, the track met another more used path, that by its direction, Galadwen judged was the main path to the ford from the north. She could see signs that it was regularly used by orcs, with the most recent marks showing a band of orcs heading down to the ford. Hoping that there would be no other orcs on the track, Galadwen set off towards the top of the ridge.
The track soon left the open grassy landscape behind and traversed into the bracken covered hillside. The bracken provided more cover from any observing eyes, so Galadwen was able to straighten to nearly her full height and move at a relaxed lope. Before she reached the ridgeline, Galadwen dared a look back at the Old Ford.
Galadwen could see no orcs moving over the ford, nor around the grove, nor following her path along the riverbank, nor along this path. There was no sign or sound of them. That puzzled Galadwen, but she felt a bubble of relief ease the fear in her stomach. Perhaps they had decided a lone elf was not worth their trouble.
Galadwen smiled at her success. She had done it. Crossed the Old Ford and evaded the orcs, all on her own. That thought gave her a little rush of pride and confidence. Perhaps she could complete her quest and survive after all. The thought of being able to return to Lothlorien one day, to Nestor and Toron, gave Galadwen a bounce in her step as she set off up the last part of the track to the brow of the ridge.