3
Thranduil set out with his escort. As he had predicted, the Anduin was in full flood so the Forest Road bridge served him well. The weather remained fine as they traveled and he was sure they would find the party from Imladris at the Celebrant, on the western edges of the Golden Wood.
It was mid-morning when the Greenwood party arrived at the Celebrant and they were within sight of the western edge of Lothlorien. Thranduil saw no signs of the Imladris Elves. The King sent outriders to the wood and towards the Mirrormere, near the Redhorn Gate, to scout.
The riders sent to Lothlorien returned first. "The Galadhrim expect the Lady Celebrian's party, my King, but they have not yet arrived." The rider reported to Thranduil.
Unable to suppress a growing sense of unease, Thranduil waited for the return of the riders who had ridden towards the mountain pass. His tension mounted as a few hours later he caught sight of those riders returning. Unlike the riders sent to the wood, these riders were pushing their mounts to their limits, riding as if a warg pack were on their heels, although Thranduil could see no sign of pursuit or other danger on the plain.
Worried now, Thranduil raced on foot towards the closest approaching rider, who threw himself off his horse and knelt before his King.
"Faervel." Thranduil barked. "What news?"
The elf raised his eyes to his King and Thranduil grew very still at the horror in the rider's eyes. "Hir-nin, there has been a battle near the Redhorn Gate." Faervel said, as the other rider arrived and slid off his horse to kneel in front of Thranduil.
Thranduil felt his heart beat speed up and a cold shiver ran through him. "A battle," he repeated. The other rider raised his head.
"Aye, my lord. There has been a battle with orcs near the pass. There are Elves of Imladris and the Greenwood among the dead."
"Take me there, Camaendir." Thranduil ordered, striding towards Faervil's horse and leaping on it. "Now!" he thundered. Camaendir was on his horse in an instant and turned his mount toward the pass. The captain of Thranduil's guard, Lossendir, barked orders to his guard and the Elves all rode out after their King.
Galloping at top speed Thranduil passed the Mirrormere and neared the foot hills of the Redhorn Gate. Bodies littered the ground. Mostly orcs. So many orcs. Thranduil's breath caught as he threw himself off the horse and ran amongst the carnage. Orc carcasses were strewn across the blood soaked ground but Thranduil could see the brown and green of his Greenwood guard amidst the black and he caught sight of raven-haired Noldor dead as well.
This was Cyllessil's escort his mind screamed at him. He did not see her, nor did he see Celebrian or the Peredhel.
"My King!" Lossendir called from the northern edge of the pass. Thranduil picked his way through the bodies as he moved towards the Captain of his Guard, eyes scanning the dead. Suddenly he stopped, frozen.
"King Thranduil!" Lossendir repeated. Thranduil stood and bent down, picking up a knife that glittered as it protruded from the throat of a dead orc. He knew that knife. He had given that knife to Cyllessil years ago and she wore it at her waist. He gripped it now with a white-knuckled hand.
"My King!" Lossendir called again, the desperate note in his voice finally reaching Thranduil. "There are tracks leading north!"
Thranduil, as if hearing him for the first time, darted towards the Captain and studied the marks on the soft spring grass. "A party of orcs, your highness. Headed north." Lossendir paused. "They appear to be warg riders with horses in pursuit."
"We ride north' Lossendir. Get me my horse. Send a rider to Lothlorien with word but the rest of the company rides north with me. They have my wife, Lossendir!"
Lossendir vaulted onto his horse, barking orders as he wheeled the steed around and within moments the Greenwood company was thundering north.
Cyllessil rode next to Celebrian, smiling at her friend's stories of their youth in Lothlorien. Her eyes periodically scanned the horizon ahead and the mountain pass around them. Glorfindel rode near the front and Celebrian's sons rode behind, the rest of the mixed escort of Greenwood and Imladris Elves ranged around them. She knew they were near the end of the pass and the way would widen soon, as they reached the plain near Mirrormere, to follow the Celebrant down to the Golden Wood.
She smiled to herself. She was looking forward to seeing Galadriel again and to the tranquility of Caras Galadhon. Her smile grew broader. Knowing Thranduil, she was sure she would find him waiting at the entrance to the wood. She looked forward to seeing her husband again.
The company made their way down the last stretch of mountain path and reached the green grass that would lead to the river. The sun was setting and Cyllessil expected Glorfindel to soon call a halt to make camp. Close though they were to the wood she did not expect he would have them ride there in the dark.
She heard the whine of the crossbow bolt before she saw it strike her mount in the throat. The horse reared as a second bolt caught it in the belly and Cyllessil knew her mount was going down. The air around her was suddenly thick with arrows and guttural shrieks came from all sides.
She could hear Glorfindel bellowing in front and she saw the Peredhel ride to either side of Celebrian as Cyllessil threw herself off her dying horse. She backed towards Celebrian, ripping her knife from her belt and grabbing another from her boot, giving thanks to the Valar that she always traveled in Silvan tunic and leggings, rather than the elaborate robes Celebrian wore.
She could see running orcs and warg riders on all sides. Celandir, part of her Greenwood guard, who had been at her side a moment ago, was almost cut in two in front of her. Eldir rode to her, reached his hand out and swiftly pulled her up behind him. She could hear Celebrian begin to scream.
Their company was overrun. She could see the horses rearing and falling. It seemed these orcs were targeting the horses first, their fallen riders being easier prey. She could see one headed directly towards them, his curved blade moving towards the throat of Eldir's horse. Without even thinking she threw her blade and it lodged in the orc's throat as he fell to the side.
The horse reared and shied, Cyllessil clutching at Eldir now with her free arm to keep her seat. She stiffened as he suddenly thudded into her, then he went limp and to her horror she saw a cross bow tip protruding from his back, nearly grazing her own chest. His weight tipped left and she let go of his waist to keep from falling herself, his body falling to the ground and his unseeing eyes staring at the evening sky.
She was now cut off from the rest of the Elves, battling around her. She looked around frantically for Celebrian and found her yards away, her sons locked in battle on either side of her, almost hidden by the orcs surrounding them. She watched a crossbow bolt hit her friend's horse in the chest and the horse went mad. Celebrian was fighting to keep her seat and then went down so that Cyllessil lost sight of her.
Her distraction proved her undoing. As she turned to look around her again a warg rider came along side and the orc grabbed Cyllessil around the waist and pulled her to him. He threw her face down in front of him, on the warg's back. She still had her small knife in her hand so she stabbed at his leg. She felt a sudden thud on the back of her head and the world went dark.
When she woke up she found herself with her face lying on the side of the warg's neck, still slung over the back of the animal with the warg rider who had captured her. She had no idea how much time had passed although it appeared to still be night. She must have dropped her knife.
Cyllessil knew she had another knife in her left boot and one in the vambrace of her left arm. She knew she couldn't reach her boot but maybe she could get the one on her arm without falling off the warg. Maybe falling off the warg was actually the better option she thought to herself. Her head hurt.
She shifted her weight to reach her knife but a swift punch to her flank from the orc rider put a stop to her movements. They rode on into the night.
Hours later the warg stopped and Cyllessil was thrown to the ground by the rider. She could see other wargs and riders around her and to her horror she saw Celebrian thrown to the ground a few paces from her, a bloody cut on her forehead.
She barely had time to register her friend's capture and injury before an orc grabbed her by her tunic and dragged her to the entrance of a cave. An orc den. Cyllessil's heart stuttered as she realized what was likely in store for them. Why else would the orcs not have killed them already?
She was thrown roughly against a hard stone wall and then backhanded across the face as she landed near the ground.
Despite the darkness of the cave she could see well enough to see Celebrian being dragged in and thrown to the ground not too far from her, a kick to her abdomen from the orc who brought her in making her cry out.
The orcs gathered in front of the two Elves. A large one leaned so close to Cylessil's face that she could feel and smell his breath; he spoke to her for the first time in guttural Common Speech. "Now we have some fun!" he growled.