Hello everyone, I hope you all had a good week. First things first, I would like to give a heartfelt shout-out to leelee202, durinsdaughter2469btw, and HaldirLove for your kind reviews on chapter 9. Truly, there is no greater gift to a writer. As a token of thanks to everyone who has been following this story, I promise to work doubly-hard to make sure I deliver new chapters on time. Since the plot is all laid out in my head, and because I have draft chapters lined up for a sizeable part of the story, it looks like I'll be able to keep this weekly pace for a good while to come, hopefully until the very end. Who knows, depending on my progress, I might eventually be able to update every other day *fingers crossed*. For those who are wondering how long this fanfic might end up being, I hope you don't mind a long story. I have pesky plot bunnies in my head, and there's much that I want to explore with these characters.
Anyway, now that I have babbled enough, I suppose I should yield the floor to chapter 10.
Again, thanks guys!
CHAPTER X
THE SEARCH
Annalyn was no stranger to tracking, had learned the skill early on in her travels with her kin. With determined steps and a fretful heart, she scrambled up a moss-covered mound, then cast a searching look about the forest. There it is. Exactly what she had been looking for.
Pointing to a faint trail of crushed vegetation, Annalyn glanced at her unlikely companion, but saw that he had already spotted the same thing, and was now hurrying ahead, his golden hair glinting in the filtered rays of the sun.
Even now, with hours of walking behind them, she could scarce believe that Haldir was truly here, helping her find her kin. But he was. And he had saved her life. Again.
"A horse passed hither," Haldir stated as she joined him. Crouching, Annalyn saw a staggered set of tracks that betokened a galloping pattern. From the direction of the prints, she believed that they had found her escape path.
"I think this is it," she said, somewhat heartened by the discovery. "We could be close to where last I saw them."
Uncertain of what might be lurking within these woods, the two companions moved quietly among the trees, and spoke only when needed. The forest around them was silent, the air still and oppressive as it warmed in the midday sun. At present, narrow shafts of light pierced the canopy here and there, leaving the rest of the forest in contrasting shadow. Yet the further Annalyn and Haldir walked, the darker it became. The evergreens stood close together, their prickly branches thick in their weaving—a perfect hiding place for creatures who loathed sunlight.
As a precaution, Haldir would stop every once in a while, head cocked, listening for movement, while his keen elven eyes scanned their surroundings. His scrutiny yielding nothing, he would nudge his head forward, indicating they should continue.
At one point, he made a reassuring declaration. "I do not believe the Orcs are nearby."
Now they went over hill and over roots, then down and around lichen-covered trees. Despite having consumed the miracle food that was lembas, Annalyn was growing more and more winded. Yet as her weary legs strove to match Haldir's tireless pace, she did not ask him to slow, nor did she wish to rest. Her eyes scoured the surrounding woods, but to her dismay they had lost the trail.
"Wait here," Haldir said and made for a nearby tree. As he scaled its trunk to get a better view, Annalyn did not abandon her own search. It wasn't that she doubted Haldir's tracking abilities—by now it was clear that his eyes were exceptionally keen—but given that they were searching for her kin, Annalyn felt the responsibility was hers. Perhaps it was her way of coping with the uncertainty before her, but part of her desperately needed to do this. But with each passing hour, it was starting to feel less like she and Haldir were working together, and more like she was merely following his lead.
Determined, Annalyn continued her study of the forest, and had just spotted a flattened fern when Haldir's voice sounded from above. "That way."
By his pointing hand, it seemed he had noticed the same clue she had.
As Haldir made his way back down, Annalyn took a moment to catch her breath. When she was ready to set off again, he had already raced ahead. Looking after him, a knot formed in her stomach, and conflict grew in her being. She called for him to wait.
He did.
As she neared, Annalyn saw the unspoken question in his elven eyes. Breathless, she said, "I can take the lead."
Puzzlement crossed his face. ""If I may, my eyesight is—"
"I value your aid," Annalyn cut him off, and hoped he would understand. "Truly. And having seen what you can do, I do not doubt your skill. But if we are to proceed together, one thing must be made clear."
Annalyn was not trying to be difficult, nor was she being confrontational. "This is not like before. It cannot be like before. We are in the wilds, not the Golden Wood. You might be a captain of—"
"Marchwarden," Haldir corrected her in that cool manner of his.
Fine. "Marchwarden." She sighed and went on. "But I am not one of your soldiers. Out here, I normally answer to my uncle. So until I—we—find him, I make my own decisions. And right now, regardless of your skill, I do not feel comfortable blindly following your lead."
What the Elf would make of this, Annalyn had no idea. He was stone-faced. Stone-faced but listening.
"These are my kin." Though she fought them, tears were threatening to form, and a lump now clogged her throat, hindering her voice when she whispered, "I will work with you, and should I miss something, by all means, tell me. But Haldir… I need to do this." Please, she almost said, but didn't, wouldn't.
For his part, Haldir regarded her with that unreadable expression, his up-turned brow bringing to mind her first encounter with him. He might find it inefficient. He might even think she was being needlessly stubborn and foolish. But Annalyn was sick with worry, and hoped to chase away her helplessness by seizing what little control there was to be had. Together they could do this, side by side, but she was not his to lead.
Chin raised, she waited. After an endless moment, Haldir stepped to the side, his features giving away nothing, and motioned for her to go first.
"Thank you," she said quietly, and passed him by.
And so they marched, following the lingering traces of her escape—a set of tracks here, the broken end of a branch there. In the waxing hours of the afternoon, they came at last to a raised section of forest.
Slowing to a stop, Annalyn stared at the forest floor below, thoughts of the previous night surfacing with awful clarity in her mind.
"Annalyn!" She could still hear the anguish in her uncle's voice, see the despair in his eyes. In Aldin's as well.
"Go!" she had cried, completely and utterly heartsick. "I will find you!"
"Is this the place?" Haldir ventured from somewhere behind her left shoulder.
A heartbeat went by, and then another. "Yes." One word. Barely a whisper.
Though she should have kept going, Annalyn stood motionless, lingering in the churning eddy of her thoughts, until she felt a gentle nudge on her arm. Glancing down, she saw that Haldir was offering his waterskin again. With all that walking, she had indeed grown thirsty, but had pushed it out of her mind.
Inwardly cursing the fact that she had lost her supplies, she muttered her thanks, took the skin, but only allowed herself a few sips. "There isn't much left."
"I hear water in the distance," Haldir told her once she had returned the water pouch. "I will fill it again once we reach the stream. Come."
Thankful for his presence, Annalyn watched as the tall Elf sprang down the path. Then, rubbing the back of her aching neck, she summoned the strength needed to continue, and followed in his wake.
"Did you see the direction in which they were headed?" Haldir asked once she had made it down.
Drawing upon her memories, Annalyn pointed east, hoping she was not mistaken. "That way, I think."
Sure enough, they soon came upon a faint set of hoofmarks, then another one, running almost parallel to it. Additional scrutiny revealed several more tracks, footprints and pawmarks alike. A chase had occurred here, indicating that Feran and Aldin had not eluded the Orcs after all—at least not here.
They followed the tracks for some time, and came at length to the stream she had come across last night. While Haldir refilled his waterskin, Annalyn took a moment to splash the cool, clear water on her face and neck. Better, she thought and took a brief rest.
Refreshed and ready to continue, the companions rose and struck out again, following the tracks until the forest started to thin. At the very edge, soft ground yielded to a smooth rocky surface. They had lost the trail once more.
Hoping for a better vantage point, they climbed atop a cluster of boulders, and studied the land ahead. Now that they were out of the forest, a large dale stretched before them. Edged by tall firs, it seemed to run in an easterly direction, its sunlit terrain harsh and rocky, with the occasional shrub or small weather-beaten tree.
Of Feran and Aldin there was no sign, however. Perhaps that is a good thing.
With the westering sun at their backs, they set out across the dale, and made camp shortly before nightfall, at the foot of a bluff sheltered by a slight overhang.
"Still nothing?" Annalyn asked while she sat near the rock wall, her calloused hands working to rub the soreness from her calves.
"If your kin lingered in this place, I do not see them now." Haldir was standing on a segment of rock that jutted from the bluff, his gaze searching the land yet again.
Annalyn should have taken comfort in the fact that her kin had apparently made it out of the dale, but she could not help but worry for them, the unknown of the situation feeding some of the fears she harboured.
Haldir made his way back down, his feet light and swift. "We should strike out at first light. And continue eastward."
It was a good idea, perhaps the only viable one. Since the dale was flanked by steep slopes on either side, it seemed unlikely that her kin had fled up the escarpments. No, Annalyn thought, the way east seemed the safest and surest route. They had to have gone that way.
Where her kin would have headed from there, she did not know. But one thing was certain: if harm had not come to them, her uncle and cousin would come back for her, either through this very dale, or some other way. But they would not leave her behind.
Clinging to that hope, Annalyn turned her attention on her aching calves, and massaged them some more. When she was done, she pulled up her boots, rested for a time, then looked to Haldir. Dusk had since fallen. Silhouetted by a backdrop of pale stars, he sat a pace away from her, his dark blue eyes following his progress as he ran a polishing cloth along the curved edge of his blade.
All throughout their march, the entirety of her thoughts had been bent on finding her kin. But now that they were sitting here, resting under cover of night, Annalyn's curiosity resurfaced. She gave voice to the question that had been hanging at the back of her mind. "We're a long way from Lothlórien," she started, and he looked up to meet her gaze. "How did you come to be out here?"
"Scouting," Haldir stated simply, then told an all-too-familiar tale. Orcs, he said, had been skirting the elven woods in alarming numbers, most of them heading in a northerly direction. The sudden rise in activity had been of great concern to the Elves, and the keepers of his realm had asked him to follow the creatures and gauge their intentions.
"We have seen them, even before last night," Annalyn said wryly, remembering the nights they had spent hiding in the woods, watching fretfully as Orcs and Wargs passed them by.
"Do you suppose they are gathering somewhere?" she asked after a long silence.
"It seems very likely to me." With the flat of his thumb, Haldir checked the sharpness of his blade. And though his eyes were fixed on the lethal edge, Annalyn could see that he was as troubled by the notion as she was.
Noting something peculiar about his blade, Annalyn leaned closer to get a better view. "What is that lettering on your sword?" There was a long line of it, formed of delicate characters. Elvish writing, she guessed.
"The script is called Tengwar," Haldir explained then read the inscription in that soothing language of his. There were many words, she noted. All of them unknown to her save for one: Lothlórien.
"What does it all mean?"
Angling his weapons so she could see, he translated the inscription. "It is called Silverwind this broadsword-blade, a defence noble against evil for the realm of Lothlórien, land of blossoms dreaming."
"All that is written on your sword?"
Haldir inclined his head in answer.
By the way he presented his weapon, she understood that he was permitting her to hold it. Her mouth slightly agape, Annalyn wrapped her hand about the hilt. Never had her fingers grasped such a graceful weapon. It gleamed now before her, and she saw her wonder-filled eye reflected upon its polished surface. So light. No doubt, it had perfect balance, too. "Silverwind," she echoed and liked the word on her tongue. With great care, she handed it over again, and voiced the obvious. "Your sword has a name?"
"Yours does not?" he countered and seemed faintly surprised.
Annalyn shrugged as he sheathed his blade. "I never thought to give it a name. I am no soldier of great renown." Only a peasant trying to survive the perils out here. Some might say she was foolhardy for living such a life—some already had, to her face—but the call of the wild rang loudly in her being, and the memory of her parents' death urged her ever onward. Gathering medicinal plants… it mattered.
Annalyn retreated into her thoughts for a while. Then she reversed their roles and presented her blade to Haldir who took it with a curious but assessing gaze.
What he thought of her sword, she could not tell. But though it paled in comparison to his elvish weapons, she loved and was proud of it. Plain though it might be, the sword was sharp and undamaged. It could cleave through an Orc if ever she had need of it. But more than that, it carried with it a memory of happier days.
"It was gifted to me by my father when I turned six and ten," she explained as he turned the blade over before returning it with a clear measure of respect.
"A treasured weapon, then," he said.
"It is dear to me." Fondness lulled her fretful heart, and she remembered the warmth in her father's smile. Her mother's, too. But then, like countless times this day, her thoughts went to her uncle and cousin, and her stomach tightened. Please be well.
"You should sleep." His words came some time later, as she pondered the eastern horizon, making her realise how utterly exhausted she was.
Quietly, on a nod, Annalyn wrapped her cloak more closely around her frame, and sought a suitable position in which to sleep on the hard, uneven ground.
As her eyelids fell heavily, she drew a tired breath. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, we will find them.
So here was chapter 10. The next one is ready. So if you wish to read on, just click ahead.
Kindest regards,
CygnusRift
