An Unexpected Companion
Chapter 15
Melancholy in Mirkwood
Firelight flickered off of the slick walls around Tiki. The flames' reflection cast a deep, golden glow across the cave that she called home. Through those golden mirrors, she could see her small form standing in the center of the cave, breathing deeply.
"Now, little one," Bantu began, his wizened voice croaking in her ears, "what are you?"
"I am a Manakete."
"No," Bantu replied, "not yet, you are not. A Manakete implies control. For now, you are merely a dragon, ravenous and powerful, trapped in flesh. Your instincts you must control. Your powers you must bind. Only then will you defeat the greatest enemy of our kind."
Tiki's emerald eyes opened. Bantu stood behind her, his gray reflection somehow comforting.
"What is that enemy?"
Bantu drew in a deep breath. He sounded weary. Was he tired of her questions? No, otherwise he wouldn't take the time to teach her so much. At this point, Tiki saw Bantu as more of a parent than anyone else. Who else bothered to take care of her in this cave? Who else watched over her? If he had a warning about an enemy, then she needed to hear what it was, and she would heed his words.
His answer left her confused.
"Ourselves."
Moss softened Tiki's steps. Fallen tree limbs and trunks, rotten from the moist air hanging in the air surrounded the narrow trail she walked. With each step, she paused, sniffing the air. She did not rely on sight. Only a few ribbons of gray light ever managed to break the tangled canopy above. Hearing was also a poor guide. The forest was too quiet, unnervingly so.
So, she opted for the sense that might have been the oldest and most well-tuned for her: smell. Each sniff brought with it the moist stench of mold and mildew. Mud and dirt intermingled with the rot, threatening to overwhelm her every few moments. But, as Bantu taught her long ago, focus and control were paramount to a Manakete, both in power and physical ability. She blocked out the overpowering stenches and was then able to detect the few dry patches of dirt that marked the trail.
Those dry patches were fleeting, weaving between twisted trees and vines, ducking and rising over roots that dug up the earth. More than once, she tripped over a root, and several times, she thought that the forest itself was trying to snatch her by the ankles and stall her. Nevertheless, she pushed on. She had a job now. A mission straight from Gandalf.
Thranduil and Thorin. She nodded as she paused to catch her breath. She let her hand rest against a tree trunk. I need to reach them.
Right as her hand slid to the edge of the tree, it stopped and snagged on something sticky. She furrowed her brow, puzzled. Then she sniffed. Something foul hung in the air. When she yanked her hand away from the tree, thick strands of spider silk clung to her fingers.
Oh, these again.
Her ears detected it in the silence. Vibrations rattled down the thin bands of silk connecting the trees like a string plucked on a violin. It droned on, carrying into the eaves of the trees. Then, after some distance, it went silent. Tiki's steps faltered. She waited, straining her ears, flaring her nostrils.
Scuttling hit her ears, soft and faint. They skulked along their webs, chittering and sneering in their alien tongue. The spiders of Mirkwood approached her. A brief spat of worry hit her. More than anything else though, she felt irritated.
Let them come.
Her eyes sharpened, pupils slitting as primal power thrummed in her veins. The world became clearer. The shadows were more distinct, the gray beams of light now bright as a sunny day. Through those sunbeams, she saw the first group of spiders rushing toward her, their spindly limbs clambering along the webs. Her chest rose and fell as anticipation built. She did not see the spiders.
She saw the Necromancer and his ghosts.
With a snarl, Tiki unleashed. Fire danced on her fingertips, sparking the closest strand of spider silk. The flames leaped along the string, rushing to meet the spiders. The spiders possessed some intelligence, for they screeched to a halt as soon as they saw the sparks consuming their craftsmanship. Their chittering turned to screams of pain and horror, and Tiki's lips broadened into a thrilled smile.
She was a Manakete. She was power. Spiders would not stop her. Ghosts could not make her quiver with fear.
But they did…
Tiki's grin faltered. The flames turned from bright gold to a dull red as they consumed what little was still alive in the forest around her. Wood crackled and leaves crisped around her, darkening into charcoal with crimson embers burning inside of them. Thick plumes of smoke billowed into the destroyed canopy, threatening to overwhelm the very sense of smell she relied on. Her shoulders sagged, and her irritation morphed into horror as she gazed upon the burnt-out husks of charcoal that had been the trees.
She shook her head, brow knitting as a pang hit her chest.
None of this was right. She wasn't like this. She wasn't supposed to be this way. Bantu taught her better. Gotoh counseled her on how to avoid this path. Millennia of life had taught her that wanton destruction purely to satisfy her natural instincts brought nothing but pain and death. Why was she so eager to light a spark to that tinder?
Why now, of all times, did she want to unleash like this?
A shaky breath rattled her lungs. She staggered forward a step, the sight of Gandalf holding back the darkness stark in her mind. A tear burned down her cheek.
Another I couldn't save.
Her lips quivered as she looked up through the burnt branches above her. The sun was setting. Stars twinkled in the twilight between the dead trees. She remembered Bantu's words of wisdom when she was freed from Gharnef's torment.
"Ban-Ban…" She whispered, blinking another tear. She scoffed. "I have become a terrible guide, haven't I?"
Her gaze fell to the thin trail in front of her. That was her only path forward now. Deviate at all, and she would be lost. She needed to stay focused. She needed to reach Thorin and the others. She needed to follow Gandalf's last orders.
If I cannot protect them, then I will do what I have always done. I'll fight.
She steeled herself once more, swallowing her sorrow. With the back of her hand, she wiped her eyes, nodded grimly, then marched along the trail, passing the ashes of the spiders she scorched. Passing by the results of her unhinged fury.
She moved through Mirkwood for another two days in silence. No birds chirped in the branches, and no critters scurried through the undergrowth. She was alone, and the silence caused the thoughts in her mind to grow loud.
For so long, ever since she had arrived in Middle-Earth, she had been grappling with finding a way home. But, now that she had time to herself. Time to truly think. She began to ponder a question she had not considered.
What happened to cause her to come here?
Was it some unexplainable spell? Coincidence? Interference from a powerful entity? Tiki snorted.
Mother would attempt such a thing.
She breathed in deep through her nose, the contempt that clawed into her heart making her feel cold. With her exhale, she dispelled it. There was no point in opening old scars.
Why am I here? She kept walking. And what happened to bring me here?
She wracked her mind, searching for memories that did not wish to be found. Occasionally, a fragment presented itself in her head. The common denominator was black skies. Grima's shadow; yes, that was present in every fragmented memory. She remembered the cold bite in the air. The cold was not like winter. That kind of cold could be fended off with a warm fire and even warmer company. The chill brought by Grima's Shadow was the sort that stole hope and buried it where it could never be found again. It was the kind she felt in Dol Guldur.
But, that made no sense to her. She and the Shepherds were fighting back against Grima. If there was a war, then that meant the two sides were at least on even footing. Going back and forth until one end made a fatal error. And she had fought with the Shepherds before. She had witnessed their prowess in Valm firsthand. No group, outside of Marth's band of heroes in ages long past, felt so unstoppable. If anyone could turn the tide against the Fell Dragon, it would be them.
So why, in her mind, did those dark days she could not recall feel so pervasively hopeless?
She froze midstep, realization dawning on her.
"We were losing."
Her whisper echoed in her mind.
"No… we lost."
The nightmares, the fires of Ylisstol, they weren't mere dreams, were they? They were memories, fragmented and flawed, but vivid and real. Her hands trembled as a horrible pit yawned wide in her gut.
Was there no home to go back to, even if she found a way?
"No!" Tiki snarled, squeezing her eyes shut. "I refuse to believe that!" She inhaled sharply and refocused. North. She needed to keep moving toward the Old Forest Road. From there, she had to head due East toward the Lonely Mountain. "And then I'll run into Thorin and fulfill Gandalf's request."
She kept marching, then, right as she began to question how much further she needed to go, she stumbled upon old stones hidden beneath thick moss and dead leaves. She knelt down and brushed them away, fingers tracing the outlines of the rock. They were smooth. Paved. A smile tugged on her lips.
"Found it," she breathed.
She rose then froze. The softest of footfalls hit a patch of dirt just off the road. Too heavy to be a giant spider. Too light to be something like a deer or a bear. Tiki forgot all thoughts of home or the road and focused all of her attention on the present moment, sharpening her senses to a razor's edge.
Her teeth clenched. Something moved closer. She could smell them. Floral, mixed with a peculiar, nutty scent. Very woody. Natural, even. And it was behind her!
She spun around and came face to face with an exquisite arrow aimed at her nose. The arrowhead didn't quiver on its string. It sat still, unflinching, ready to fly between her eyes. Behind it stood an elf with golden hair and a sharp, blue gaze. Tiki's lip curled into a snarl. Old instincts flared to life again. No one points weapons at her and lives to tell about it! No one!
Bowstrings groaned through the air. Tiki stiffened before she could lash out at the elf in front of her. In her periphery, she spotted other elves in dark green armor surrounding her, arrows pointed at her, ready to spring into action. None of them shook with fear. None of them knew what she was, and, for a split second, she felt like telling them with a roar and a flourish of fire.
"A Manakete is control, Tiki…" Bantu's wizened voice said in her mind.
Tiki's eyes closed. A deep breath filled her lungs. Then she relaxed and slowly raised her hands in surrender. Before they could even get near her head. One of the armored elves moved to her and grasped her wrists. A tight cord of rope wrapped around them, tying them behind her back. She rolled her eyes. A quick flex and those ropes would be-
She gritted her teeth. The rope would not give. Enchanted? Maybe? Once again the elves of Middle Earth managed to surprise her. Unlike Elrond's kin, though, it wasn't because of their incredible kindness.
"Well," she looked at the elf with golden hair in the eye, "so much for the renowned hospitality of the elves."
Fire and death. Those marked Tiki's days when Gharnef took her. Shadows filled her mind, swallowed her thoughts, consumed her whole. She only saw enemies. Monsters coming to take her, hurt her. All illusions fed to her by the evil wizard.
Then, suddenly, she had been freed. However, her elation at being herself again, at being rid of the wizard's grasp, was fleeting. She now understood want Ban-Ban meant by a Manakete's greatest enemy being themselves.
She saw the results of her powers stretched out around her.
Bodies upon bodies burned to coals. Armor littered the battlefield, torn open by her talons. One of her little hands trembled to her lips. She could still taste iron on her tongue, but it wasn't from swords or shields. Her emerald eyes widened with horror, and she dropped to her knees.
Right as sobs started to hiccough from her mouth, she saw a gray figure rushing toward her with a blue-haired man beside him. It was Ban-Ban.
The old Manakete scooped her up in his arms. She knew he was talking. Knew he was telling her it would be okay. But, she didn't hear his words. The world had become numb, and the only thing she could focus on was the destruction around her.
Ban-Ban said she was safe now. Gharnef was gone. The blue-haired man, Marth, she vaguely heard, vowed to track the vile cretin down and end him, along with Medeus for the destruction wrought that day. But, to Tiki, Gharnef and Medeus were not at fault.
She saw the results of her powers that day.
She was fire and death.
And chapter! A shorter chapter this time, but seeing how Tiki is the main character of this fic, I figured we can dive a little deeper into her story as we continue. She's catching up to her dwarf friends though, but first, she's gotta handle some rather unfriendly Wood Elves. This should be interesting! Let me know what you all think. As always, I hope you all enjoyed it. Have a nice day!