Initially, I thought this chapter would be ready by Monday. Then when the weekend started I thought maybe by Sunday. But my writing day proved rather productive and I finished the chapter earlier than expected. But first things first, I want to thank the amazing reviewers who left comments on chapter 12.

UnseenAngel22, leelee202, Blue1258, AshleyLeigh, leward1992, Raider-K, and glitterballx, you guys are awesome! You totally made my week. Thank you!

Now without any further ado…


CHAPTER XIII

THE LONG WALK

Two days had passed when Haldir and Annalyn finally found the horde's trampled trail. Two strenuous days during which Annalyn did her best to match Haldir's unflagging pace.

Hour after hour, league after league, they marched, sometimes pushing late into the night. It was demanding, grueling even, but Annalyn welcomed the challenge, for it gave her something to focus on—anything to manage her grief and anger, her fears. All those emotions. So many of them.

Square your shoulders. Lift your chin. Breathe. This mental encouragement had become her lifeline of sorts, repeating time and again at the fore of her mind. It worked, for the most part. But not always.

Despite her efforts, her thoughts would stray every now and again, usually without warning, dragging her back to the heart-shattering moment Haldir had found her uncle's body. Even now, the image remained graven in her mind.

Why? She often asked herself. Why did this have to happen?

There were no answers. Never would be.

Annalyn marched onward in hopes of exhausting her misery. With each passing day, it seemed her thoughts grew more distant. Some days, she could scarcely think at all. So she followed Haldir, too numb to object, let alone take the lead.

As they neared the Gladden Fields, the scenery slowly started to change. Old, imposing trees gave way to spindly ones. In some areas, they were clustered so close together that the Orcs had been forced to hack them down, making a wide path of churned mud and flattened branches that sometimes caught on Annalyn's boots. It slowed her down some, and made for a dreary walk. Haldir, on the other hand, could navigate the obstacle with ease. A small part of her envied him.

"There will be marshes up ahead," he stated at one point, before the festering smell had even reached her nose.

Wonderful, Annalyn thought but said nothing. If truth be told, she would cross a thousand nasty marshes if it meant finding Aldin, or Heremod, his horse. And Cobalt, she added with a heavy heart. How she missed her gentle steed.

In the end, they were given a small reprieve, for the tracks eventually veered to the east, avoiding the worst of the marshes. They seemed to go in that direction for a long way.

During that time, Annalyn deferred to Haldir, often regarding him as he walked ahead of her.

They spoke little during that time, which suited the growing deadness of her mood. Besides, what would she talk about? Her life? Her kin? Annalyn had not spoken of them in days, not since they had left her uncle's resting place in that forlorn clearing somewhere to the south of them. The pain was simply too great, her grief and fretfulness encompassing beyond words. It was easier to keep it all inside.

Thus passed their three day journey along the southern edge of the Gladden Fields. The area was shrouded in mist, the light so cold and grey it leeched all colour from Haldir's hair, making it appear almost silver. Along the way, they saw a few dark pools ringed with reeds and rushes, and more of those thin, leafless trees. According to Haldir, this area would be filled with wildflowers in the summer months, with many Yellow Irises.

"Have you travelled here often?" she found herself asking.

"I have," he answered, lifting a low-hanging branch so they could pass. "But not in many years."

"Scouting?" The question left her lips before she realised. Taken aback by her sudden desire to talk, Annalyn watched as he gave a nod. As he waited for her, she ducked beneath the branch before yielding the lead once more. Resuming her walk, she adjusted the shoulder strap of her satchel. "You must have been young at the time."

Though his features betrayed very little, she could have sworn she saw his mouth twitch at that. He seemed amused. "Not exactly."

Before she could ask what he meant, Haldir looked as if he had heard something in the distance. He stopped and cocked his head to the side. "Do you hear it?"

Annalyn frowned but, hearing nothing, shook her head.

"Water. And much of it," he explained. "It is running swiftly. We must be close to the Anduin." Haldir was already moving, hurrying ahead with renewed vigor.

Yet, even as they sought to catch up with the Orcs—covering as much ground as possible, as quickly as possible—Haldir was not blind to her limits. Every so often, he would glance over his shoulder, his inquiring eyes seeking confirmation that she could keep going. Unwilling to slow down, Annalyn would nod each and every time. We need to move. We need to find Aldin.

Indeed, it had become her sole purpose, a reason to keep going.

The companions came within sight of the river shortly before nightfall, as the sun hovered just above the trees, casting its orange light on the shimmering current.

Anduin the Great.

It was much wider than the Silverlode, but judging by the many rocks protruding here and there, the water was not very deep in this place, which was a mercy considering how close they were to winter.

The Orcs' tracks, Annalyn saw, led right to the water's edge, the prints clear and precise in the drying mud. "These footprints are fresh. More so than before."

"A day old at the most," Haldir agreed, his eyes scanning the forest on the other side. "We are gaining ground."

A sense of urgency filled her at these words, and no small amount of apprehension. The Orcs were close, the cursed creatures that had stolen so much from her. Her lips set in a thin line, Annalyn instinctively touched the hilt of her blade, anger surging within her being.

"Come," Haldir said gently, as though he had sensed her thoughts. "Night will be upon us soon."

He was right.

Nodding, she sought to quell her rioting emotions by taking a steadying breath. As she watched her companion hop on the first rock, Annalyn had to thank the fates for sending him on her path.

Haldir's help had been invaluable thus far. Truly.

Sedate and focused, he stalked the Orcs' path with a calm assurance that was quite reassuring to her. While she was capable of taking care of herself, Annalyn was neither delusional nor stupid. Even with a companion, crossing the wilds was perilous in these dark times. To go about it alone, nipping at the heels of a very large company of Orcs, would have been absolute folly, a hopeless endeavour.

To be sure, Annalyn could not imagine being out here without him—and certainly wouldn't be if he hadn't found her when he had.

Since their first meeting, nigh on forty days ago, Annalyn had seen different sides of Haldir; from wary sentinel and reluctant guide, to a courteous companion and friend. It had been a gradual transition, one for which she was now glad.

They were nearing the second half of the river. As they crossed, the gaps between the rocks widened, but not so much that they had to go into the water. For the final leap, Annalyn accepted Haldir's help, her hand reaching for his as she jumped. When her feet landed on the riverbank, Haldir held her eyes for a moment, his fingers still clasped around hers.

"Can you continue?" he asked.

"Yes," Annalyn replied, her breath frosting between them. "Lead the way."

And he did, drawing back and turning, holding her gaze for a beat longer as he did so.


Light was dwindling, and the air was growing colder. As they wound their way among the trees, each step bringing them farther and farther from the Anduin, Haldir and Annalyn gradually left the Gladden Fields behind. Gone were the reeds and rushes, the silent pools. The forest was much more open here, with a smooth terrain that sloped gently here and there.

They were making good progress, had maintained an even pace since striking out across the river, a little over a day ago. Mindful of potential foes, however, the two spoke very little, and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings.

Fortunately, thus far, Haldir sensed nothing amiss.

Save for a lone owl, and the occasional foraging rabbit, the forest around them lay mostly dormant, awaiting winter's chill. Haldir had felt it for several days now, could even smell it at times: the impending change of season. A skyward glance confirmed it, for Remmirath, a formation known as the Netted Stars, sparkled high overhead. Soon, it would reach its highest point, ushering the season of cold winds and snow.

For a moment, it made him think of home. Fair Lothlórien. It was different in the Golden Wood, for the realm was kept alive and pure, even in the dead of winter. In the course of a year, the most notable change was in the leaves. A vibrant green in the spring and summer, the mallyrn's foliage would turn gold at the beginning of autumn, and would remain that way all winter long, falling only when the cycle began anew, and the spring greens opened.

Lothlórien was a very special place indeed, the only one of its kind this side of the Great Sea. Like a capsule in time, it endured, enjoying a vibrancy that had long since departed the rest of Middle-earth.

But how long would it last?

Haldir had no answer to that. Perhaps it was better that way.

His thoughts turning to the Orcs, Haldir considered the trail. Where are they headed? he wondered for what seemed the thousandth time. Looking to the stars, he consulted the directional map contained within their shimmering patterns. Mirkwood, he suddenly realised. They are making for Mirkwood.

He narrowed his eyes. What for? "What are you up to?"

"What was that?" Annalyn's query pulled him from his thoughts, making him realise that he had, in fact, spoken aloud.

"Nothing," Haldir murmured at length, but not in a dismissive way.

Turning, he looked to Annalyn, and saw that her cheeks were pink. So was the tip of her nose. Watching her, he couldn't help but note the weariness in her gait.

"We have covered much ground this day," he said as she neared.

Annalyn had pushed hard these past few days, it was true. She had followed with grim determination, league after league, never complaining. But as much as he admired her resolve, there were limits to Annalyn's endurance. She was bone-tired.

Mindful of this, he indicated the surrounding woods, saying, "We should look for a suitable place to spend the night."

Seemingly too tired to disagree, Annalyn merely nodded.

After a brief search, they made camp in a quiet little dell ringed with birch trees. The starlit ground was soft, covered in a rich carpet of dry leaves.

While Annalyn sought a place to rest, Haldir made for the largest of the surrounding trees. Hand reaching for the sturdiest looking branch, he then swung himself upwards, and started to climb. His boots finding purchase on the bark, he went as high as he dared, and looked all around. Detecting no immediate sign of Orcs, Haldir turned his focus to the east. Though he could not yet see anything, he thought he heard a sound, faint yet persistent, borne upon the wind.

Indistinct as it was, Haldir estimated that they were less than a day's march from its source. Orcs, he decided. It had to be.

Making his way back down, he found Annalyn as she opened the pack that he had left for her.

"You must be hungry," she observed, retrieving the leaf wrappings that contained their usual repast. "Come. Sit by me."

Doing as she asked, Haldir sat cross-legged, to her right, and accepted the proffered bread with a courteous nod.

They ate in companionable silence, chewing their morsel as the stars winked overhead. "You would not, by any chance, have any of that cordial with you?" Though lighthearted, Annalyn's words were laced with guarded hope, her breath visible in the near glacial breeze.

"Alas, I carry no such thing," Haldir replied regretfully, recalling that first night, when she and her kin had wandered into the elven woods. He had given her a warming drink that night, for the air had been cool, though nowhere near as cold as it was now.

"Ah," she said, glancing at him, the corner of her mouth lifting anyway. "Oh well."

"I have a confession," she began some time later. "When your brother brought me that cordial at your behest, I was hesitant. I thought it might be laced with something." Embarrassment crept onto her features. "You must think me foolish."

His mouth pulled in a half-smile. "Nay. You were cautious. That is not a bad thing."

Annalyn shifted slightly, hands rising to adjust the hood of her cloak. Heaving a sigh, she then looked up and out, her profile soft and wistful.

As the surrounding branches swayed and groaned, Haldir watched his companion for a long moment, noted the faraway look in her hazel eyes. When the corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly—her first smile in many days—he understood that she was reliving something, a precious moment no doubt.

He briefly wondered at it, but did not pry. Instead, it was Annalyn who spoke. "The people of the Westfold must be tucked away in their houses right about now, sitting by the hearth, listening to stories."

For a moment, Haldir thought she would speak of her loved-ones, friends and kin who awaited her return. But she didn't, saying instead, "You know, back in Rohan, they tell peculiar stories about Elves."

"Oh?"

"Before I met you, I thought Elves were elusive and treacherous, wielders of magic who took our men captive, never to be seen again." A soft, mirthful laugh rose in her throat. "At least, that is what my grandfather always said, though nobody knew for certain. Your people were something of a myth, to be honest, mere characters in fireside fairy tales."

Fighting his broadening smile, Haldir arched an eyebrow. "And what do you make of us now?"

"Well..." Annalyn schooled her features and cleared her throat. "From what I have seen, Elves are cautious, helpful, and kind. Elusive," she added. "The stories were not wrong on that point. Hmm, let us see. What else? They make a most hearty bread. Oh, and they have great balance."

As Annalyn continued, laughing softly as she painted a most flattering image of his kindred, Haldir found himself staring at her face.

"You should have dealings with your neighbours more often," she finished at last. "That way your people would not be so… misrepresented."

Haldir chuckled at that, echoing her last word. "Misrepresented. I shall make a note of it."

Their gazes held for a beat longer, but gradually, inevitably, the levity of the moment passed, replaced instead by the knowledge of what they might face tomorrow.

"You should get some sleep," he murmured. But even as he rose, bidding her good night, Haldir thought about their previous exchange and the mirth in Annalyn's eyes.

It had been good to see.