Mirkwood was a strange place. It wasn't exactly dangerous, but it had changed somewhat in the past years, becoming more mysterious and dark as the vegetation grew thicker and the trees grew taller. There was a slight sense of magic, of something otherworldly, that was different from the outer woods surrounding the lake. Part of it was due to the elves, Sìneag thought, but there was also an element of something more.
"Are we there yet?" Grier cried morosely after only twenty minutes in the forest. Sìneag herself was tired but she was used to traveling with Helena and Damhán on hunts and not complaining about fatigue. Sìneag wondered briefly what had become of Damhán. Surely he was dead, like the rest of the village's inhabitants.
"Perhaps we should stop," Mairead gasped. She was not used to traveling such a distance either and, though Tammara had not said a word, Sìneag could see exhaustion in her wide eyes.
"That seems like a good idea. We'll take a break, have a snack, and get our energy back."
"How far do you think we are from the elves?" Mairead asked.
Sìneag dug out the map from her bag and studied it carefully. They were farther than she had hoped. "A day, likely more. We only have to follow the river upstream and the road hugs it rather closely, so it won't be hard to navigate. However, I have no idea what to expect when we get there. They did not help when the dwarves' kingdom fell to the dragon. And I doubt they will help us at all."
"It is our only hope though," Mairead said softly.
Sìneag bit her lip. How could she possibly know what to do? They were between a rock and a hard place. They could chose to make due with roughing it alongside the river or they could hope to find some sympathy from the elves known for their coldness towards those unlike them. Sìneag did not know as much about living off the land as the rest of her siblings had; she did not want to worry every day about whether or not she and the others would survive through sundown. She would rather risk it with the elves and at least be on the move with provisions than staying put and trying to make due with what was around them.
"We'll go to the elves. It can't hurt."
Mairead nodded and separated out four servings of food. "What do you think they will do for us, if they choose to help?"
Sìneag shrugged. "I have little knowledge of the elves. Perhaps they will give us food, or if they are feeling extremely grateful, lodging. I do not anticipate anything more than that."
"Then… what will we do after?" Mairead asked, her eyes fraught with worry.
Sìneag swallowed slowly. "We don't have to worry about that quite yet. But if we do… well, there are other villages to go to. Places beyond Mirkwood. Or perhaps…" This was hopeful beyond reason, but she had to say it for Mairead's sake, "perhaps some of our villagers survived or escaped as well."
"Perhaps," Mairead said, looking at her son. He had fallen asleep in a pile of pine needles. Sìneag wondered how they would ever make it on their scare provisions with two little ones who couldn't travel far in a day's time. She was beginning to regret having ever made this decision.
As the sun rose overhead, Sìneag grew warm and sleepy. She began to doze in a patch of sunlight and only awoke with the rustle of tree branches and the murmur of voices nearby.
Sìneag bolted upright, looking around the forest carefully. The voices were closer to the river, some distance away, but not far at all. Slowly, she crept towards them, being careful not to snap any branches and give herself away.
The figures were human, young, in their late teens or early twenties, with curly, fiery red hair. They appeared to be a pair of twins, a male and a female. At first, Sìneag couldn't recognize them from the soot that covered their faces but after a moment or two she recognized them.
"Tófi? Frida?" she said softly.
They spun around, trying to place where the voice was coming from. Sìneag stepped out of the shrub where she had been hiding. They looked down, took a moment to register what they were seeing, and smiled brightly.
"Sìneag!" Frida cried. "You survived! We can't say how glad we are to see you!"
The twins had innkeepers and tavern owners, living on the edge of town near the main road. They'd also been known for the musical duo they formed to entertain their lodgers. Frida played the lute and sang while Tófi was a fiddling genius.
"We were afraid we'd found the only ones left already," Tófi explained, surprise and joy streaked across his face.
"There are more of you?" Sìneag said breathlessly.
"A few dozen. No more, I'm afraid. It's fortunate there are so many," Tófi said. "But now with your family…"
Sìneag shook her head. "My sister Tammara and I are the only ones who made it. However, we have the lord's wife and son with us."
Frida looked stunned. She swallowed carefully. "I am so sorry about your parents and sisters, Sìneag. We assumed they would be with you. My deepest condolences."
"Thank you," Sìneag said softly, not quelling the tears that insisted on forming in her eyes. "Who else survived?"
"Well, it's a good bit of luck with the lord's wife and son. Unfortunately the lord did not make it himself," Tófi explained. "Those on the outer edge of town – like ourselves – were able to escape before the flames spread. And somehow…" Tófi's face darkened. "I don't know how the damnable man survived. He must have sold his soul or something of that nature. To think when so many others are gone and he who brought this very blight upon us…"
"Who is it?" Sìneag asked. Tófi said nothing. "Who?" Sìneag demanded.
"Damhán," Frida said. "Damhán's survived. And he's proclaimed himself leader in the lord's absence."