The brow of the ridge was bare of bracken. Galadwen crouched down low and almost crawled across it, fearful of being seen by any orc eyes. Crouched on all-fours, she reached the far side of the ridge. Beyond was a narrow valley, with a small hill to the east, and far beyond that, Galadwen could see a dark haze that she hoped was Mirkwood forest.
Bringing her focus back to the valley, Galadwen saw the track head north up the valley. The sides of the valley were steep, and Galadwen's eyes followed the many switchbacks of the track as it climbed up the hillside towards her. As the path got nearer, it disappeared behind rocks below her. Galadwen tracked her eyes along the clifftop until she saw the track emerge at the last switchback.
As Galadwen looked down the last stretch of track, an orc rounded the corner. The orc, eyes focused on the path in front of its feet, was oblivious to Galadwen. She watched in shock as it trudged up the hill. The orc's large arms swung slowly, in time with its steps. As Galadwen stared down at the orc in stunned horror, another orc appeared around the bend, then another and another. So far, all walked with their heads down in a slow trudge up the hill.
As Galadwen stared, the orcs came closer, still unaware of her. More kept coming around the corner. She didn't have time to think or come up with a plan. An orc could look up at any second, or they would come close enough to smell her. And as soon as she moved, they would surely see her. But she had no choice. She needed to move now.
Still crouching, Galadwen took a slow and silent step over the path, towards the rocky drop beyond. She took another step, then another. Now she could see over the rocks to a steep rockface. The track was about five yards below. Galadwen looked back to the orcs, counting them. As the thirteenth orc rounded the corner and Galadwen prepared to jump, the first orc suddenly looked up. It saw her and instantly froze, its eyes wide in surprise.
Galadwen froze herself, not daring to move. Time froze as the orc and Galadwen stared at each other. She could see its beady eyes, now large with surprise and fear, set wide, either side of a broad nose. A scar crossed the nose and through the corner of its mouth, the skin puckering into a permanent sneer. Galadwen noticed that its ears had more defined points than hers. It was more elf than her. This creature, or its ancestors, had once been elven. But now, it was twisted and deformed by the dark powers of Sauron. Despite all that she had seen and experienced, Galadwen felt a tiny shred of pity for the twisted creature who stared back at her in fear.
Though it felt like minutes, only a couple of seconds later, the second orc bumped into the first. It swore a curse in Black Speach. Before the second orc could look up, Galadwen leapt. She sailed over the rocks, falling to the track below, her cloak flaring out behind her. Galadwen fell into a roll as she hit the path hard. Without slowing her momentum, she leapt up and bounded down the bank. The ground underfoot was treacherous, with loose rocks and uneven ground hidden in the sparse grasses.
Galadwen had just reached the track for a second time when the sudden sound of a loud orc horn on the path above made her stumble. Since seeing the first orc on the trail, Galadwen had not noticed her fear. But at the terrible sound of the horn so close, she felt her limbs shake with it. Slipping on a loose rock, Galadwen fell into another roll which saved her life. A black arrow flew past where her head had just been.
Galadwen leapt to her feet again and banished the fear from her mind. Fear would not save her, but her gift might. Looking to the immediate future as she took another leap, Galadwen was able to adjust her course as she fell, to land surefooted on the track below. She ran along the path for a few steps, ducking to avoid the black arrows that flew down the hill after her. Then with another leap, she bounded down the hillside.
When she reached the valley floor, Galadwen kept to the track, following it up the valley at a fast run. The arrows had stopped coming when she got out of range, but she could only assume that the orcs were still on her trail. From her vantage point on the ridge, Galadwen had thought the track up the valley was straight. But in truth, it continuously dipped and turned as it followed the uneven valley floor and rounded clumps of tall bracken. Galadwen could not see far along the track, behind, nor in front of her.
Anxious of meeting another patrol of orcs on the track, Galadwen decided to risk making her way up and over the small ridge to her right. The lower portion of the hill was covered in thick bracken, then only a bare rocky hill until the ridgeline above. When Galadwen came to a break in the bracken, she ducked in off the track. Branches pulled at her cloak and tore any bare skin they found as she pushed her way through. Aware that the orcs could catch up to her while she fought her way through the thick growth, Galadwen forced her way through despite the bracken's resistance.
Galadwen fell out of the bracken with a sigh of relief. Her cheek stung from a cut, courtesy of the bracken. She tentatively touched her fingers to her cheek. They came away with bright red blood on her fingertips. The smell of her blood would be like a beacon to any orcs tracking her. Galadwen gritted her teeth in anger at her stupidity. She wanted to shout in frustration but knew it would only make matters worse.
Looking up the bare rock slope, Galadwen could see that the rocks were loose shingle. It would not be as easy as she had thought to climb the hill, but it wasn't until the first step up that Galadwen realised how difficult it was going to be. With every step, her foot slid back down, buried to her lower calf in scree. After a couple of tentative steps, Galadwen understood she would not get anywhere unless she ran. So, with a deep breath, she drew on her life force.
As Galadwen took off up the slope, her feet moved with such speed and lightness that she felt as if she was flying. Near the top, the gravel thinned, the rocks became more stable. The ridge itself was solid stone yet brittle underfoot.
In the valley below, Galadwen could see ten orcs moving at a steady loping run along the track after her. She thought that they were not yet aware of her position but knew they would easily track the smell of her blood. While taking deep breaths to still her heavy breathing after the run up the hill, Galadwen unslung her bow and notched an arrow. Looking to the immediate future, she waited a minute until the orcs were within range, then aimed and let loose. She did not need to look to know that the last orc in their line fell noiselessly, with an arrow protruding from its right eye.
The other orcs continued, none the wiser to their dead comrade. She notched another arrow, fired, and another orc fell noiselessly. Galadwen had to wait a moment as they rounded a tall patch of bracken, then felled the next orc. Galadwen had just loosed her fourth arrow when the pack of orcs suddenly stopped. It struck the orc but was not a clean and noiseless kill. As the orc fell, groaning, to the ground, an angry shout went up from the neighbouring orc. It had noticed its dying and missing comrades. They had stopped in the valley just below her, exactly where she had left the track. Galadwen let loose another arrow, and an orc who had its back to her soon fell. The orcs spied her on the ridge above them. Their angry growls grew in intensity. With a renewed vigour, the orcs crashed their way through the bracken on the hill below her.
Galadwen no longer had a clear line of sight now that the orcs were bashing their way through the tall bracken. She spared a second, contemplating her next move. Did she stay and shoot the orcs as they climbed the treacherous scree slope below her, or did she run. Remembering how fast and effortlessly the orcs advanced up the ridge before the battle with the elven army, Galadwen dared not risk staying. She turned and ran along the ridgeline.
Galadwen had no idea what her plan was now that it was near impossible to lose the orcs who were on her blood trail. For now, she would make some distance between them and hope that an idea or another vantage point would appear. Between here and the Elvenking's halls, her only possible ally would be the skin-changer. Galadwen did not want to insult him by bringing orcs onto his land, but perhaps she would have no other choice.
On the other side of the ridge, a short slope led down to the next valley. This valley was full of trees. Galadwen ran along the ridgeline for a couple of hundred yards to put as much distance between herself and the orcs scrambling up the scree slope. As she ran, Galadwen noticed the sky turning from the dark of night to the dusky light of day under the unnatural cloud cover. To stay hidden from the orcs so they would be required to track her, Galadwen slipped and skidded with the loose rocks down the short slope to the trees below before they could reach the ridgeline.
Galadwen brushed her hand past a slim tree trunk as she ran. This forest consisted of young, fast-growing trees. They were a species she did not recognise. The dark narrow tree trunks were widely spaced, therefore would give little cover or protection from the orcs. A soft green moss covered the valley floor, absorbing any sound from her footsteps and deadening any ambient noise. The eerie quiet that had shrouded the land since the unnaturally dark clouds had created a permanent dusk was heightened here in this forest. Not a bird nor insect made a sound. Nor the wind, nor the small dark stream that silently flowed down the valley. This unnatural silence was compounded by the heavy damp earthy smell that filled the forest.
Galadwen leapt over the stream, conscious of the soft muddy ground on either bank that would leave footprints. The damp earthy smell seemed to radiate out of the stream. Pausing in her run, Galadwen bent and scooped a handful of mud from out of the cold dark stream. She smeared it onto her face to hide the smell of blood from the orcs. It stung where she rubbed it into her cuts. As Galadwen continued to run through the forest, she started coughing on the thick earthy smell of the mire as it filled her nose. The strong-smelling mud would make it impossible for the orcs to track her scent, but it was also making it hard for her to breathe.
With each breath, the strange smell of the mire on her face seemed to fill Galadwen's head with a heavy foggy haze. The fog smothered her fear and urgency, leaving only weariness. Her fast run turned into a laboured, plodding walk as her limbs filled with a fatigued heaviness. Galadwen could feel her eyelids becoming heavy as she took long slow blinks, trying to force them to stay open. She stumbled and felt her heavy, exhausted body fall to the ground.
With eyelids too heavy to open and limbs that would not respond to her commands, Galadwen struggled to regain her feet. But the fog in her mind smothered her thoughts. She could not remember why she needed to move so urgently. Surely, when her body was this tired, she should be resting, sleeping. As the haze seeped into her mind, Galadwen forgot everything except the weariness that consumed her. She gave in to the fatigue, letting it draw her into a deep sleep.
Fortunately for Galadwen, even this magic was not powerful enough to carry her into true sleep. Instead, she was suddenly looking at herself in the immediate future. Try as she might, Galadwen could not pull her mind out of unconsciousness. She only slipped deeper into the future. Galadwen could now see all the branches of possible futures stretching out before her.
She could see herself lying on the mossy floor of the forest. Galadwen observed the orcs discovering her unconscious body in the brightest and most likely future. With nearly impassive eyes, she watched her body being beaten and broken before they would tie her hands and carry her off towards the Old Ford. Galadwen had seen herself beaten and worse so many times that it barely disturbed her anymore. But she could not just lie there and wait for that future to come to pass.
Focusing on her body, Galadwen concentrated on taking shallow breaths. Meanwhile, she continued to pull her mind back to her body. The shallow breaths reduced the potency of the enchanted mud. With the power of her sheer determination, enhanced by her life force, Galadwen slowly forced the fog from her mind and body. With heavy and uncoordinated limbs, she fumbled at the flap of her satchel. Having retrieved her waterskin, she slowly, painstakingly uncorked it. Galadwen tipped the water over her face and rubbed at the mud with numb, uncoordinated hands. As the mire washed away, so too did the last of the haze from her mind.
With the fog now gone, the warning hum of Dargorlin filled her mind. Galadwen hastily stuffed her waterskin back into her satchel. Upon hearing a triumphant growl, she looked behind her. Five orcs were in the forest, less than a hundred yards away. Galadwen scrambled to her feet and set off at a heavy stumbling run up the valley. With the breeze in her face as she ran, Galadwen could feel her limbs slowly shaking off the last of the heavy haze.
Retrospectively, Galadwen wished for the unnatural silence of the forest again. Now the sounds of rattling armour, heavy thudding footsteps, and the excited grunts of the orcs were closing in behind her. The orcs had gained significant ground while she recovered from the effects of the enchanted mud. Worst of all, the weariness that the mire had made her feel had not disappeared. It was not a trick of the magical fog. It was her own weariness that she was only now feeling. She had been drawing on her life force many times over the last day and it had taken its toll. Galadwen suddenly doubted that she would be able to outrun the orcs.
With that realisation, she started to prepare herself to fight. Galadwen began running at a sprint. She could not keep it up long, but she didn't plan to. She only needed to gain a little more distance between herself and the five orcs on her heels. Up ahead, Galadwen saw a mossy mound only a couple of yards high. It wasn't much, but she would take every advantage that she could get.
As Galadwen ran for the mound, she unslung her bow and drew an arrow from the quiver. Looking to the immediate future, she took two running leaps up to the crest of the green hill that was little more than a bump in the valley. Spinning, Galadwen raised her bow. Barely pausing to aim, she let loose the arrow. As the leader of the advancing orcs fell, she notched another arrow. The orcs saw the danger and increased their speed. Galadwen could see, with the help of her gift, that the remaining four orcs would avoid her shot. She waited until they had nearly reached the mound. When they were too close to avoid the arrow, she let loose. Another orc fell.
As the remaining three orcs reached the mound, they spread out, preparing to come at her from all sides. In a single smooth movement, courtesy of the life force she was drawing into herself, Galadwen slung the bow over her back and unsheathed her sword. Having assumed a defensive stance, with eyes closed, she waited. She would trust in her gift.
As one, the orcs cautiously stalked up the mound. Galadwen could see that they would all attack at the same time. Choosing the orc to her left, she drew in more life force as she spun and lunged towards it in a blur of motion. With surprise, the orc stumbled backwards, lost its footing and tumbled down the mound, orc sword flying away into the forest.
Spinning back the way she had come, Galadwen parried a strike from the second orc's curved sword. Before she had time to counter with her own attack, the third orc was upon her. Galadwen lunged inside the strike of its spear, bringing her sword up to catch the haft of the spear. Galadwen saw the orc kick at her before it did, but she had no idea how to counter such a move. Before she could make sense of all the possible options and react, the kick came. Knocking a leg out from under her, she fell to one knee. Galadwen saw the second orc strike at her back while she continued to hold the haft of the spear.
Further drawing on her life force, Galadwen shoved the haft away from her. The third orc fell back with its spear. She rolled away from the downwards slash of the sword, and with speed enhanced with her life force, Galadwen gained her feet and lunged at the orc before it could recover from the last swing. With the power of her life force driving her, Dargorlin plunged deep into the chest of the orc. The orc spluttered in surprise. Its curved sword dropped from loose fingers as the orc started to fall to the ground. The orc twisted as it fell, pulling the sword from her grasp. Noting the scared face, Galadwen looked on with a morbid fascination. It was the orc who had first seen her on the path. Before she could again feel pity for the orc, she saw another sword come at her. Diving away from the strike, Galadwen had no time to recover her sword.
She rolled and stood, drawing her dagger as she did. Facing the two remaining orcs, Galadwen adjusted her grip on the knife. They circled her slowly. One orc tried to draw her attention so the other could attack from behind. Galadwen allowed one of the orcs to circle behind her since she fought with her eyes closed. With her foresight, she saw the simultaneous strikes before they happened. Spinning around both strikes, she slashed at the orc behind her. With a howl of pain, the orc with the spear fell to its knees.
The other orc attacked before Galadwen could take note of the damage she had inflicted. Galadwen parried the strike with her dagger. This orc was a stronger fighter than any orc she had faced before. Now that she no longer had the element of surprise, it used that strength to its full advantage. The orc came at her with a powerful combination of blows, at a speed that pushed Galadwen's skills to her limit. Despite using her sight to foresee the orc's moves, with only her dagger to defend against them, Galadwen could do little more than hold the orc off. Even with her limbs infused with additional strength from her life force, Galadwen could feel them tiring under the mighty blows. The orc drove her across the crest of the mound. Despite her sight, Galadwen stumbled backwards, slipping to her knees. Sensing victory, the orc raised its sword for a decapitating strike.
Galadwen saw the killing strike coming and drew on even more life force as she braced her feet. Waiting for the precise moment to spring at the orc, Galadwen drove her dagger towards the orc's neck. Mid swing, the orc twisted to avoid the blade to the throat. Galadwen saw the counter move, so she was already clinging to the arm opening of the orc's leather jerkin. As it twisted, her momentum took her past the orc, and she pulled it with her. As they spun, the orc smashed his head into her closed eyes. The impact knocked her mind from the immediate future, but she desperately held on to the last image she'd seen. Through the ringing in her head, Galadwen drove her dagger into the exposed left underarm of the orc. They hit the ground in a roll. When they finally came to a stop, Galadwen was half-pinned under a motionless orc.
Blinking through her swelling eye, Galadwen breathed a weary sigh of relief. Her head spun from the impact of the orc's blow. Slowly, she dragged her leg out from under the orc, then pulled her dagger out from under its arm. There was nothing on the orc to clean the blade with, so Galadwen wearily stood and began to dig in her satchel for the cleaning cloth.
The sound of a soft thud made Galadwen spin in surprise. As she did, a sharp pain shot through her leg. A spear slid past her legs as she turned towards the sound. The injured orc had gained its feet and stabbed at Galadwen. As the spear grazed her calf, the injured orc lost its balance and fell face-first to the ground at her feet. Galadwen jumped away from it in surprise. But when the orc did not move, she tentatively shoved it with her foot. It still did not move. Not wanting to get any closer to check if it was dead, Galadwen gave it a wide berth to retrieve her sword from the chest of the other orc. The sharp blade slid out smoother than she had expected. With Dargorlin back in her possession, she breathed a sigh of relief at the sword's silence.
Galadwen wearily stumbled down the hill to retrieve the arrows from the two orcs. Using her dagger to help, Galadwen was too tired to feel disgusted as she cut the arrow tips free. She soon had an armful of dirty weapons. Turning north, Galadwen walked away from the battlefield and the dead orcs.
In the distance through the trees, Galadwen could see the valley splitting in two. Wearily walking with an armful of dirty weapons, she took the eastern valley. As Galadwen followed the valley, it slowly curved around to the right until it led directly towards the Mirkwood Forest. The closer to Mirkwood, the older and larger the trees were becoming. After what Galadwen guessed was an hour of walking, she found a prominent tree on the northern edge of the wood to rest against. The trunk was wide enough to hide her silhouette from any orcs looking up the valley.
Settled at the base of the tree, looking back the way she had come, Galadwen pressed her hand to the trunk and offered it a greeting. The sleeping tree barely stirred in response. Taking her waterskin from her satchel, Galadwen shook the last couple of drops out onto her parched tongue. She had seen no water other than the enchanted stream flowing silently down the valley.
Despite the possibility of three dozen orcs coming fast on her trail, Galadwen's deep weariness demanded that she rest for a short while. First, she carefully cleaned her weapons. Fishing out her cleaning bundle, Galadwen set about cleaning her sword, dagger, and arrows as Toron had shown her. After they were cleaned and stored away, she carefully took off the greave on her injured leg. Galadwen rolled up her legging and was surprised to see the wound was more consequential than she had thought. It had sliced deep into the muscle of her calf, and yet there was no blood. The gashing wound should have made walking unbearably painful and caused a significant amount of blood loss. But only now was blood starting to bubble out, and a painful throbbing was building in intensity. Even as she watched, a black stain in her skin started spreading out from the wound.
"Would you like some help with that?" came a rough voice from behind her. Galadwen jumped in surprise. That showed just how weary she was. She had not heard anyone approach. Turning her head, Galadwen saw a slight man in a tatty brown robe standing a few yards away, leaning heavily on a twisted wooden staff. Behind him was an unusual sledge, drawn by half a dozen large hares.
"I did not mean to frighten you," said the man in a halting voice that seemed unaccustomed to speaking Westron. "Let me introduce myself. They call me Radagast the Brown."
"I know who you are," Galadwen said in his native language, Quenya. "I have seen you caring for the animals and the forest."
"Indeed," Radagast replied in Quenya, his brown eyebrows raised in surprise. "Then you have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?" Despite speaking in his native tongue, Radagast's speech pattern still had unusual pauses and inflexions.
"My name is Galadwen, daughter of Galadriel and Gandalf, and I have the gift of foresight," she replied.
"Indeed," said Radagast as his eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into his brown hat.
Galadwen shifted uncomfortably under Radagast's unwavering stare. She had seen Radagast many times in her visions of the future. Having studied the pattern around him, she knew him to be honest, loyal, and more intelligent than his outward appearance suggested. He was good in his heart and expected those he met to be the same. Because of this, he had been disappointed by many men. He preferred flora and fauna over people for the simple fact that animals lacked many of the faults of men. They were not cruel by nature. They did not lie or cheat or take pleasure in the suffering of others. In Radagast's eyes, the flora and fauna deserved a champion to fight for them, whereas many people did not.
Galadwen did not blame him for this view, but she did not share it. Through her travels into the future, she had seen more acts of evil than most. But she believed, with a conviction as strong as her love for Nestor, that the people in this world should be saved. It was for them, and those she loved, that Galadwen was on this quest.
"I was with Gandalf four nights past. He said you had gone to summon the White Council," Galadwen finally said into the silence that Radagast seemed in no hurry to fill.
"Indeed," Radagast replied with an affirmative nod.
"How are you here now?" she asked.
"I have friends who help me travel great distances at even greater speeds," Radagast cryptically replied.
That was all the information he seemed willing to share, so Galadwen refrained from asking him more questions. Still, he continued to study her.
"Would you like some help with your leg?" he eventually asked again.
"Yes, thank you," Galadwen replied.
Despite only moments before leaning heavily on his staff, Radagast did not need it to walk lithely over to Galadwen. He knelt beside her and inspected the wound. It was bleeding freely now, a constant drip staining the green moss below her leg a bright red. Radagast rummaged in his robes, looking for something. What had looked like a patched and worn robe, Galadwen now saw was a coat full of pockets and compartments. As he searched in his garment, a sparrow fluttered out of its hiding spot somewhere in Radagast's long grey streaked bushy hair. The curious sparrow landed on Galadwen's shoulder.
"Good day," Galadwen said to the sparrow, raising her finger to it. The bird hopped onto the offered limb and gave Galadwen a small chirp before cleaning its beak on her finger.
"He likes you," Radagast said. "Whisper doesn't usually greet anyone."
The sparrow turned on Galadwen's finger and tweeted noisily at Radagast. It was then that Galadwen realised Radagast's speech pattern sounded more like the sparrow's than usual Quenya.
"Nonsense," Radagast said to the sparrow when it had finally finished chirping at him. "We meet plenty of new acquaintances."
The sparrow puffed up its feathers and twittered a reply to Radagast.
"Other animals do to count," Radagast grumbled under his breath.
Whisper hoped from Galadwen's finger onto Radagast's hair and gave his ear an affectionate peck. Radagast had pulled a jar out from somewhere in his cloak and was digging a finger inside.
Galadwen sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as Radagast dabbed an ointment into her bleeding wound. With both hands on her leg, he mumbled a string of words over and over. Galadwen thought it was in Quenya, but his halting speech made it hard to understand. She felt a burning heat build in the wound in time with Radagast's increasing chant.
Just as the heat in her leg was getting uncomfortable, Radagast stopped chanting, then the heat quickly evaporated. The wizard sat back with a satisfied humph. Galadwen could see that the gash was filled with a green ointment. The bleeding had stopped and the black stain was gone.
"Nasty things, orc weapons," Radagast said, more to the sparrow sitting in his hair than to Galadwen. "Nearly all are poisoned with one type or another of festering filth. Some will kill you quickly, some will kill you slowly, and some will even turn your heart to darkness." He shivered at his own words.
"Which was that?" Galadwen asked.
"The latter," he replied matter of factly. The jar of ointment disappeared back into his coat. Then using his staff, the wizard heaved himself to his feet. He suddenly seemed frail to Galadwen, like the healing had cost some of his vitality.
"Now, where have you come from?" he asked.
Galadwen, who knew him to be deceptively intelligent was still impressed with the tact of his question. Many travelling in dangerous times like this would be hesitant to tell a stranger where they were going. But what harm is there in saying where you have been since you are no longer there? With that information, it would be safe to assume that the traveller would be going in the opposite direction they had come. Hence, Radagast will have obtained the answer he wished without asking for it.
"South," Galadwen replied vaguely as she carefully pulled down her leggings over her wound and started to put the greave back on. "The Old Ford," she added.
Radagast gave her a wary look. "Orcs guard the crossing."
"Yes," agreed Galadwen. "Three dozen of them may be hot on my trail." Having finished putting the greaves back on, Galadwen used the tree trunk to steady herself as she stood. The leg was tender, but the pain seemed to be quickly fading away.
Radagast grunted in thought. Whisper chirped in his ear and the wizard nodded in agreement.
"We will draw some of them off," he said. "It's still half a day's steady walk to Beorn's lands, so travel quickly. You must cross the border before nightfall. Do not enter his lands at night. But once over the border, you'll be safe there. The orcs will not dare venture into his lands."
"They might," Galadwen replied. "Not two moons past, orcs entered the forests of Lothlorien."
"For the light of the lamps!" Radagast exclaimed. "Galadriel did not mention this to me when I saw her. But perhaps that is why her army is otherwise engaged. The dark is indeed getting stronger."
Radagast turned to the hares drawing the sledge, who had suddenly started flicking their ears nervously.
"They are close," he said, watching the hares' ears flick. "Southeast. About three miles." There was a long pause while Radagast watched the hares. "Forty-one orcs," he finally said.
"We must go now, and quickly, if we are to get past them and draw some away," Radagast said to his animals as he hurried to his sledge. The large hares were shuffling around nervously now. "Go due north," he said to Galadwen. "You must run to make it before dusk and before the orcs catch up with you. Be quick, for they are travelling like an angry hive of wasps out for vengeance."
Radagast clicked his tongue. The hares pulled tight on their lines, legs kicking nervously.
"Wait," Galadwen said. "Where are you going?"
"To attend my duty," Radagast said, raising his head and standing tall. "As the dawn sun rises, the White Council will do battle at Dol Guldur. We fight to clear some of the darkness from this land, for a time at least." As Radagast spoke, he seemed to gain in stature, an unseen force radiating out from him. In the still forest, a breeze swirled around him, whipping at his coat. It flapped out like the cloaks of heroes from legends long past. His clear eyes sparkled with the conviction of someone fulfilling their life's mission. The staff that had been a feeble man's support was now held firm with a strong hand, declaring it to be a weapon of choice. For a moment, he looked like the powerful wizard that he was.
Then with another click of Radagast's tongue, the swift hares leapt away on their powerful legs. The sledge took off, almost noiselessly, with only a soft hushing sound, like the wind dancing along treetops. Galadwen marvelled at the speed of the sledge as it quickly disappeared through the trees down the valley. Leaving only a farewell chirp from Whisper in their wake.
As soon as the sledge was out of sight, Galadwen shouldered her weapons. Then set off up the hill at a steady walk. Her wounded leg was barely noticeable now. She climbed out of the forest in the valley and up the rocky hill to the bare ridge. Sparing a glance back, even with her tired elven eyes, Galadwen could see the dark smudge of orcs moving along the distant ridge to the southeast. Radagast had been correct. The orcs were moving at a hurried pace. Even as she watched, a smaller group split off from the main force and quickly disappeared into the forest. It seemed that Radagast had diverted a single patrol. At least two more were still on her trail.
Heeding Radagast's warning, Galadwen wasted no more time. She turned north and set off at a steady lopping run. Her pace was not as fast as the orcs', but in her weary state, Galadwen dared not push herself more than she had to. She could not outrun them now. Galadwen feared she would need all her strength and more to fight them tonight.
To her surprise, as she rounded the ridgeline, Galadwen discovered it was not a ridge but the edge of a high plateau. Covered in short dry grass, with the dark green of Mirkwood to the west and the Anduin not far to the east, the grassland stretched far into the distance. Galadwen thought she could see a dark smudge of forest on the northern horizon. But with her tired eyes and the omnipresent twilight, she could not be certain. Somewhere in the distance was the skin changer's lands. Galadwen hoped it was no further than the dark smudge in the distance. For she was unsure if she could even make it that far before nightfall. That was if the orcs did not catch up with her before then. Galadwen let the heavy stone of fear sitting in her stomach fill her body and used it to increase her pace slightly without using her life force.
Time of day was hard to determine in the incessant twilight. Galadwen guessed that she had been running no more than half an hour along the plateau when she hastily skidded to a halt. Suddenly, a ravine appeared in the grass in front of her. It was not a continuous open plain like she had assumed. Some loose topsoil crumbled away from the edge, trickling into the dark depths below. The fissure was like a giant crack in the plateau. It stretched as far as she could see from east to west and was about six yards across. Wide enough that she could only leap it with the help from her life force. Cautious of wasting her remaining life force, Galadwen decided to try to climb it. The sides were steep but looked climbable. Looking back before she descended, Galadwen could not yet see the orcs on the plateau.
Scrambling down the side of the chasm was easy enough. In the twilight, it was very dark down in the depths of the fissure. A small stream trickled over stones along the bottom. The water did not smell heavy like the creek in the forest. But it did flow from the direction of Mirkwood, so Galadwen dared not touch it, despite her thirst. The climb up the other side was more difficult than she had hoped. Twice Galadwen had to look to the future to help herself over particularly steep and crumbly sections. When she finally clambered out the other side, Galadwen felt too much time had passed. And sure enough, as she stood, she could see the orcs on the plateau to the south. They were still too far for Dargorlin to warn her. Galadwen nervously adjusted her weapons before she set off at a run.
Galadwen guessed no more than a half an hour passed before she came to the next fissure. She could now hear a very faint hum in the back of her mind from Dargorlin. The orcs were gaining on her. This chasm looked narrower than the previous, and not wanting to give the orcs any more of a lead, she took a few backwards steps, drew on her life force, and running towards the abyss, she leapt. Sailing over with cloak flying out behind her, Galadwen landed comfortably on the other side. Hardly slowing her momentum, she continued running.
By the time Galadwen leapt the eighth ravine, she could feel her body tiring. She stumbled on the landing. Her heavy feet would not move fast enough for a quick recovery. Falling to her hands and knees, Galadwen felt gravel cut into the heels of her palms. Hauling herself back to her feet, she forced her body to keep moving. It obeyed, but only at a steady walk.
As she walked, Galadwen noticed that she was taking gulping breaths of air through a parched mouth. The cold wind blowing over the plateau chilled her sweat-drenched body. The strength and endurance that Galadwen was demanding from her body were starting to take a physical toll now that she had restricted the life force. Continuing the steady walk, Galadwen raised the hood on her cloak against the wind and focused on slowing her breathing. But there was nothing to be done for the dehydration.
The orcs were still gaining on her, but not as quickly as she feared. By the varying volume of the hum in the back of Galadwen's mind, she knew the orcs were running faster than her. But she increased her lead again every time they crossed a ravine. Jumping across the fissures was helping keep her ahead of the orcs who could not leap that far.
The dark smudge that Galadwen had been running towards was now close enough that her tired eyes confirmed it to be trees. It was still a long run away, and at her current walk, she would be unlikely to make it by nightfall. Galadwen feared to look behind her. The hum of Dargorlin told her the orcs were currently closing on her fast. But as long as the ravines continued to appear at regular intervals, she would stay ahead of them.
The chasms did continue to appear. Galadwen sparingly used her life force to leap them, then continued at the steady walk. The orcs were gaining on her more quickly as the sky darkened to deep night. But Galadwen leapt the last ravine then, the forest ahead of her suddenly seemed within touching distance. As she approached the forest, the sound of turbulent water increased until it drowned out the loud hum from her sword. The plateau ended with a short steep bank down to a small river that tumbled over and around rocks. Some of which were the size of small hills. Drawing on her life force yet again, Galadwen leapt from rock to rock until she landed in the darker shadows of the forest on the far bank.
Releasing some of her tension in a weary sigh, Galadwen raised her hand to the nearest tree trunk. The forest had a musky animal smell that ticked the back of her nose. It was the smell, more than anything else, which confirmed to Galadwen that she was now within the borders claimed by the skin-changer. Despite the warnings about entering his lands at night, Galadwen would rather face the wrath of the skin-changer than the force of orcs following her on the open plateau.
Galadwen contemplated waiting for the orcs and taking a few out as they came down the bank and crossed the river. But she quickly thought better of it. She still hoped they would not follow her into the land of the skin-changer, and staying here would only tempt them further. So, turning her back on the river, Galadwen headed into the forest.
The forest was an unusual mix of old and new trees. The grand old trees of many varieties reminded Galadwen of trees on the border of Lothlorien. In the space between the wide canopies grew a thicket of new trees. With small branches and leaves, they fought to gain dominance of the restricted light passing through the gaps in the large canopies above. Then in some places, Galadwen could see a tree newly matured, shading out the growth at its feet. Unlike in Lothlorien, this forest was continually renewing itself. Here, the old trees died or were removed, then replaced with new seedlings fighting for dominance until the strongest finally took the place of the old tree. Galadwen felt there was a metaphor about life in there somewhere, but she could not dissect it.
As Galadwen walked further into the forest, the sound of the river faded from hearing. But Dargorlin's warning hum continued to grow. The orcs had crossed the border and were now gaining on her with great speed. Galadwen continued at a steady walk, conserving all of her energy as she searched the trees around her. When she found a suitable grand old tree, Galadwen scaled the trunk to find a perch in one of the lower branches. If climbing trees had not been second nature to her, then her tired body would have struggled with the effort.
The branch Galadwen crouched on was low enough that she could see through the forest the way she had come. She unstrung her bow and notched an arrow. All was silent except for the sound of Dargorlin's warning growing in the back of her mind. As Galadwen waited, she greeted and thanked the tree whose limb she now crouched upon. Not a leaf stirred at her words as the tree continued to sleep soundly. Despite the upcoming battle, being in the tree gave Galadwen a sense of peace and safety.
From out of the darkness in the forest came the cry of pain from a dying orc. Then another and another. An angry growl, which sounded more like a roar, echoed around the forest. Galadwen could hear orcs shouting amongst grunts and cries from their dying comrades. Finally, the orcs came into view, shuffling forward in a tight formation, keeping watch all around them. So tightly was their formation that Galadwen did not need her sight to hit them. But she dared not waste an arrow on only a wounding shot when she need not. So looking to the immediate future, Galadwen shot an orc on the left. As it fell noiselessly, another orc cried out and fell from the back of the huddle. Through the tunnel vision of her sight, Galadwen could not see what attacked the orc or see it fall.
Focused on her task, Galadwen was in a continuous motion of notch, loose, notch, loose. Through the confusion of being attacked on two sides, she downed a dozen orcs before her location in the tree was discovered. As black arrows started flying towards her, Galadwen disappeared off her branch. With the trunk between her and the orcs, she climbed to the opposite limb of the tree. From there, Galadwen downed another two orcs before the black arrows came flying at her in return.
Sheltering behind the trunk again, Galadwen slid back down to the first branch. As she moved around the tree, she heard orders shouted among the orcs. When Galadwen settled on the limb, arrow at the ready, she was surprised to find the tight formation of orcs gone. Galadwen opened her eyes and stopped looking to the immediate future. The orcs had scattered into half a dozen groups of three. As she watched, a dark shape moved silently past one of the groups. Another death cry filled the forest. One of the orcs fell to the ground, a leg nearly torn off in a mess of dark flesh and glistening blood.
Two groups were heading towards Galadwen's tree, firing unaimed arrows at her as they did. She fired one of her own arrows before disappearing behind the trunk. For an element of surprise, Galadwen slid down the trunk to land softly amongst the old roots. Slinging her bow onto her back, Galadwen unsheathed her sword. Then drawing on her life force for speed and strength, she looked to the immediate future.
The two groups of orcs were advancing around opposite sides of the tree. Her body thrumming with life force, Galadwen turned away from the pair, spun and lunged around the trunk. With her gift to guide her, Galadwen's sword caught the leading orc of the other group in the throat. Spinning back behind the tree as fast as she had appeared, Galadwen left a glistening spray of orc blood in her wake. She repeated the move towards the first pair, leaving one orc standing in shock as its comrade's blood splattered its face. With three orcs now cautiously advancing around the tree, Galadwen saw no easy kills. So, with a diving roll, she created some space between her and the three orcs.
Warily, the orcs advanced on her. Galadwen backed away slowly, sword at the ready. Suddenly the forest was filled with a deafening howl of pain that did not belong to any orc. Fearing that her ally was wounded, Galadwen abruptly charged towards the orcs. Taken by surprise, she managed to cut down one of the orcs as she ran past them. Rounding the tree trunk, Galadwen took the scene in before her as she ran into the fray.
A giant of a beast, not bear nor man, but something in between, was on its rear quarters, pulling at a spear lodged in its shoulder. Even sitting as it was, the beast still towered over the five orcs that cautiously advanced on it. The beast, covered in dark brown fur, had long human-like limbs that gave the creature a strange stretched look. Its enormous paws had stubby fingers tipped with sharp claws. The beast's short fingers struggled to grip the shaft of the spear.
As one orc got within striking range, the beast abandoned its attempts to remove the spear and in a blur of motion, it lashed out at the orc with its enormous paw. A faint gurgling sound came from the ruined face of the orc as it fell to the ground. With the beast distracted, another orc closed in from behind. Before the orc could do more than raise its sword in a killing strike, Galadwen's sword protruded out under its chin. She then sliced the arms from another orc as it attempted to attack the beast from behind. As the beast batted aside a strike from another spear, Galadwen stepped within the beast's range. With a firm hand on the end of the spear lodged in its shoulder, she pulled it free.
The beast roared in pain, swinging a large paw towards Galadwen, who was already diving out of its reach. It turned on the nearest orc, who vainly raised its jagged sword against the incoming blow. Using an orc blade to stop that blow was like trying to use a twig to stop a river. The beast growled as the sword cut into its paw. Then sword and claws sliced into the orc, leaving a tattered bloody mess crumpling to the ground.
Behind the beast, the two orcs that had been after Galadwen were now re-joining the fight.
"Behind you," Galadwen shouted to the beast as she dropped her sword and unslung her bow. As the beast spun, she shot one of the orcs without looking to the future. The arrow hit the advancing orc in the chest, but it continued to stumble forward with its sword raised. As the beast grabbed at the orc's raised arms with one giant paw, Galadwen looked to the immediate future. Focusing on the other orc, she let loose another arrow. That orc died mid lunge, spear falling harmlessly from its hands.
Focusing on the present, Galadwen saw the beast had made a bloody mess of the other orc. Now only one remained. The beast slowly rose to its full towering height of about nine feet. The orc backed away, eyes wide in fear. But before it could defend or turn and flee, the beast pounced, jaw gaping open. The orc looked small under the massive paws as its head vanished inside the beast's huge jaw. Galadwen heard a sickening crack and wet ripping sound as the beast tore the orc's head from its body. Casually tossing it aside, the beast turned on Galadwen.
As the beast stalked towards her, leaving bloody footprints in its wake, Galadwen closed her eyes and hurriedly looked to the immediate future. She did not wish to kill her ally, so there was only one option before her. It was not without risk, for it depended on the choice of this beast. Galadwen opened her eyes and slowly lowered her bow to the ground. With her arms out, showing she was unarmed, Galadwen took two steps away from the bow. The beast continued to stalk towards her. Blood dripped from its huge jaw as its oddly human-shaped amber eyes intently watched her. Without any sudden movements, Galadwen knelt on one knee and lowered her head, exposing the back of her neck to the beast.
Surprised, the beast stopped. Blood, dripping from the wet fur around its jaw, landed with a soft pattering sound on the ground in front of Galadwen. Drip, drip, drip. Its hot breath, full of the musky animal smell of the forest, tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. At the edge of her vision, she could see its two great forepaws. Stained dark with blood, each was larger than her head.
After a moment, Galadwen dared to look up. Those amber eyes studied her intently. Galadwen jumped in fright as suddenly, the beast let out a sneeze that could have been a huff of acceptance. As she watched in amazement, the beast transformed into an ordinary bear, in every sense except its size. On all fours, the bear was taller than a horse. With a heavy sigh, the bear sat back on its haunches and continued to look at her with sparkling amber eyes.
Galadwen took a deep breath of relief. "Good evening, Beorn, mighty skin-changer and lord of these lands," she said, dipping her head politely to the bear. "My name is Galadwen, of the elven realm Lothlorien, daughter of Galadriel and Gandalf. Please accept my deepest apologies for trespassing your lands at night, unannounced, and followed by a band of orcs." The bear grunted in response. "Humbly, I ask to stay within your borders tonight. I do not wish to trouble you further, so will depart by dawn."
The bear gave another sneezing huff and tilted his head to one side, still watching her with those golden eyes. "If you do not object," Galadwen continued, "I will collect my weapons now." The bear did not move. After a moment, Galadwen decided that silence was all the consent she would receive. She slowly stood up. Now that the immediate danger was over, her body felt heavy with fatigue as she turned away from the bear. Galadwen drew her dagger and started the messy process of retrieving her arrows. The bear silently watched as she worked.
When Galadwen had retrieved all the salvageable arrows, she sheathed her dagger. Then retrieved and sheathed her sword before finally collecting her bow from the ground next to the bear. As she slung the bow onto her back, the bear lay down beside her. He grunted something that sounded like the Westron word "on".
"You want me to climb on your back?" Galadwen hesitantly asked.
The bear gave a sneezing huff and shifted closer to Galadwen. Taking that as confirmation, Galadwen hesitantly climbed onto the bear's vast back, careful not to touch the area near his blood-soaked shoulder. As soon as she was seated, the bear rose to his feet and bounded off at a run. Galadwen clung to his neck, grabbing fistfuls of fur to prevent her from falling off.
As the bear continued to run, Galadwen felt the rhythm in his powerful movements. She loosened her white-knuckled grip on his fur and sat up. Moving with the rhythm of the running bear, Galadwen found she had only to hold on with her legs and balance herself with her hands on his shoulders. Watching the trees fly by and the wind blowing in her face, Galadwen grinned with the unexpected joy of travelling at such speed. Letting out a whoop of exhilaration, she felt the wind whip away some of her weariness.