Wednesday watched from afar as the armies of the west routed the orc armies of her former master. Sauron the Great. Sauron, former lord of the Earth. Wednesday fought to hold back a snort. Sauron was a fool.
She felt the vestiges of his power over her depart Middle-Earth as his spirit did with the destruction of the One Ring. She flexed her fingers as she watched the tower of Barad-dur fall, the Great Eye of her former master looking both utterly perplexed and terrified. She watched with smug satisfaction as the eye condensed before exploding in a shockwave that levelled the Earth around it.
And suddenly she found this weight lifted off of her. The weight of a malevolent evil giving way to the good in the world. A world where she had no place in. She was fine with that though, better than whatever she was before. She would not go back to Harad. She had a feeling her people would not welcome a deserter, nor would she want to involve herself with the War she could feel that would soon fester there.
And so she turned away from the Men of the West and slung her knapsack onto her shoulders before departing, she would never look on at the land of Mordor again. Not that she would want to. She would go into the west, away from the kingdoms of Rohan and Gondor. She would find no place there.
A journey without end. Maybe she could find purpose. Maybe she would find peace.
She moved with purpose, it would be a long trek, she kept her hand on her Morgul blade, its power now too waned with the defeat of her former master, she tightened her quiver and made sure her bow was secure on her shoulder. The distant sounds of clashing swords grew quieter, as she moved away. Away from a shameful past.
Perhaps she would find a quiet place in Mirkwood or the edges of Lothlorien, perhaps somewhere along the Anduin river, build a small home and live peacefully. She looked down to her right hand, where her personnel Ring sat. One that had been given to her personally by Sauron.
Whilst it was true that Sauron had been a great Eye, wreathed in flame, he could take on physical form for brief periods, days at a time, something that even the turncoat Saruman didn't even know.
One hand missing a finger where the One Ring had once sat. Wednesday had been one of Sauron's most valued assassins and spies. And had gifted her a lesser ring. Hours she had spent in his company, hours she had spent as he sat upon the black throne. But in reality treason and betrayal had festered in her heart.
She was even privy to moments of regret from the dark lord. He would lament that originally all he wanted was things to be ordered, he saw what destruction the races of Middle-Earth wrought on the land. But like all supposedly good intentions, it was twisted until the goal remained but the destruction and death he would bring was a means justified by his goal.
Morgoth had twisted Sauron, whilst Morgoth's evil was both petty and more menacing in nature, it was enough to start Sauron on that path until he became the being that he was. Unable to go back and unable to see the folly of his cause. The Rings of Power was that last ditch attempt at taking Middle-Earth through somewhat peaceful means but now Sauron's evil became as spiteful as his former master. Whilst Morgoth sought to destroy Arda completely, Sauron would destroy what resisted and rule what was left.
Sauron's wrath at Saruman being killed at Isengard was terrible and swift, immediately ordering the final preparations for the extermination of Minas Tirith and the conquering of Gondor, setting the Witch-King to oversee the final build-up properly. Having lost such a potent Ally had been damaging, even though Sauron knew of Saruman's plot to supplant him.
Sauron's assault had been swift.
And Sauron made use of Wednesday's precognitive abilities, the lesser ring serving to amplify that ability. And what she saw both angered and scared the Dark Lord. The battle could go either way, but the key was Gandalf the White. One of the few beings on Middle-Earth Sauron had feared that would help turn the tide, recognising the Wizard as kin.
Once Sauron had learned from her that Gandalf possessed the Ring of Narya, One of the three Rings of Power gifted to the Elves, his action was to be swift. He would send her, his most trusted Assassin to kill him and retrieve his Ring of Power, for Narya could inspire the hope to resist and fight and in the hands of Gandalf, someone who inspired hope naturally, the effects could be devastating.
And so Wednesday went forth, the black gate behind her as she moved swiftly through barren and arid countryside, until she happened upon the more greener and vibrant pastures and the suffocating smog of Mordor was left behind her.
She moved swiftly into Northern Ithilien, choosing to cross the Anduin river at nightfall, where her presence would go unnoticed, the Ithilien rangers having proven themselves to be an irksome group, she couldn't help but begrudgingly admire their tracking and fighting abilities having seen first hand their Ambush of Haradrim Soldiers coming up from the South. Survivors had said their numbers were few and they slipped away after decimating the force.
And so she had waited, the moment the sun had dipped below the world she moved on, passing the shallow edge's of the water, hastening to move on before the patrol she had wiped out had been discovered.
She moved deep into the treeline before setting up camp that night, her Lesser Ring becoming active as the night grew darker and the stars veiled. Her presence went unnoticed. But as Wednesday sat at her campfire she pondered the true extent of her vision.
She saw that the Rohirrim would arrive and completely rout Sauron's forces. And something else irked her, a feeling of trepidation, she could not explain it but she trusted her visions more than she did the dark lord. And so she carefully picked her trail and watched as the Battle unfolded right up to the confrontation at the Black Gate.
And she found herself advancing up North Ithilien again, following the Anduin river as far North as it would go. She camped again on its bank, several miles south of the falls of Rauros. From there she would use the stair built by Gondor at Amon Hen. With a sturdy stick, a spare bit of line and a worm, she cast her line into the waters, too tired to hunt and not wanting to use the small store of Cram she had on her, she lounged against a boulder that sat near the river's edge, content to watch the flowing waters. Her mind is calm and free of worries. The flames flickered as she tossed a small collection of wood onto the fire, giving it new life.
She mused on that. The defeat of Sauron had given her that, something she had longed for in her years of service but now that she had it, what was she to do? It was like the weight of a suffocating shadow had been lifted from the world. For now though she would bask in the peace of simplicity she had earned herself.
Watching the line, she fiddled with the Ring on her finger, twisting it one way and back the other, she felt torn, it was her most useful tool, but it had been given to her by her enslaver. The Ring, almost sensing her train of thought, seemed to pulsate in reassurance. It being a lesser ring was not tainted like the Rings of Power had by the One Ring.
She was shaken out of her thoughts as the line on her makeshift rod began to move, shaking the rod in the process. She smirked as she stood up and made to reel in her line, she pulled and the ling with a struggle was pulled from the raging waters. It was a Salmon about twelve pounds in weight, in a rough guess. She raised the rod and the salmon began to hang from the line, Wednesday reached forth and tugged it free. It flopped in her grip in a desperate bid to free itself but Wednesday placed it down on a smooth stone, withdrew her dagger and cut its throat, ending its struggle.
Using the same dagger, she prepared her meal, she began by removing the anal fins and descaling it, making short work of it, once she had prepared it adequately, she washed the fillets in the bank of the river, she returned to the fire and hung the fillets over the fire, allowing them to be smoked, she would not consume it all at once, the fish would be good for two days at the most. Especially if wrapped properly, lucky she had some spare wrappings that would do nicely.
By now the sun had dipped below the horizon and night began to befall the world, Wednesday carefully wrapped up the two portions of Fillet that had been smoked and salted for later consumption. Placing them carefully in her knapsack, she took the piece she was going to eat and lounged against the boulder again, she ate her fill, slowly. Fresh Salmon tasted better than the slop that she ate in Mordor and she wished to savour it as much as she could.
Night replaced Day and the only light was the flickering flame of her fire, but it was merely more than embers by now, but Wednesday could see clear as day. She could see everything from foxes to owls as they hunted for their respective prey. Such was the way of life.
She rolled out her bedroll after she moved deeper into the treeline, nothing more than a thick length of cloth, she laid her head down, draping herself with her travel cloak she settled herself down, electing to not start another fire as Orcs patrolled the eastern shore, although she wondered how true that was now considering recent events, but she saw nor heard a single one as she slowly drifted off to sleep, the stars unveiled in celebration at the defeat of the Dark Lord.
She awoke the next morning to prevailing and dewy fog. She sat up and shivered the heat of yesterday having cooled in the night. She drew her travelling cloak tighter around herself as she smothered the smouldering remains of her fire and rolling up the bedroll, she checked her sword before moving away.
She followed the river back, for several miles before coming upon the great falls of Rauros. She stood and took in its glory, the stairway up to Amon Hen was crumbling, a representation of the kingdom of Gondor as it fell into ruin, she navigated the crumbling steps, deep cracks entrenched in withered and worn stone. The ravages of time had been its greatest enemy having left the deepest wounds.
Wednesday had to clamber over steps that had fully crumbled away somewhat clumsily, her small statute proving difficult. On more than one occasion she found herself losing her footing, her tentative grip on the stone in front of her preventing her from tumbling to her death. She had to blink at just how close her slipping foot had nearly plunged her to her doom.
Finally she reached more stable ground as she reached the top.
Finding crystal clear waters reflecting that of a swift sunrise she pondered the warmth that she could feel on her face, not the choking and arid heat of Mordor.
She walked along the western bank, deep in thought until she saw movement on the eastern bank. Within the treeline she saw moving shadows that seemed to press forward ahead of her, she dropped to the floor as several fires were cast out from the shadows.
Orc Archers she seethed.
She withdrew her own bow, and fired her own arrows into the shadows of the eastern bank. She watched a single body fall, her arrow having stuck true but she found she could do nothing but retreat as the Orcs began to form into ranks in the tree's firing off numerous arrows as a whole. Despite their somewhat poor aim, the volume of arrows would be too much for her, and she slunk into the shadows of the treeline. Her ring flashed briefly, as she became one with the shadows and she moved away from the bank and further North again.
The orcs would not dare to attempt a crossing in broad daylight. The sunlight would weaken them, making them easy pickings for the shorter girl. She detested Orcs even when she served him, they would leer, their hunger for her flesh all too evident, One had made the mistake of referring to her flesh as being tender even on the bone. She had stabbed his eyes out and slit the Orc's throat. Since then the Orcs would refrain from their comments, although hungry eyes would still linger.
Although Black Uruk's towered over her, they respected the power she represented, being more disciplined then the more mindless rabble that Orcs tended to be. And they were always in awe of the Ring that sat upon her hand, aside from the nine, she was the only one to have been gifted a Ring from their master.
The Ring in question had now helped her slip away from the Orc patrol as they continued to fire arrows into the brush and treeline. Another one of its abilities was to allow it to slip away into darkness and shadow, not making her invisible, just so that she blended in.
She moved swiftly, hoping to outpace the Orcs. Taking out a small piece of cram from a pouch on her belt she ate it quickly, wasting no time to enjoy it, she unscrewed her waterskin and took a small swig as the under-brush was crushed under her boots. She kept her bow out as she did, the forest that ran parallel to the rivers were filled with more than just Orcs or Goblins. Sometimes Wargs would wander down from the Misty Mountains in search of food.
She slipped on by as she watched one such Warg ripping into the carcass of a deer, it lifted its head, an unfamiliar scent having reached it. Warg and Girl stared at each other for a moment as she moved around the woodland, giving the Warg a wide berth and Wednesday's eyes never left the Warg. The wolf-like creature lowered its head again and began ripping off flesh, having decided the girl was not a threat to itself or its meal and the effort of killing her was not worth the risk for more food.
Soon the noises of tearing flesh being devoured became faint until she could no longer hear it and the tree's began to grow thinner as she reached the edge of the forest where the waters of the Anduin river flowed in a deep ravine, the river twisting back and forth. She followed it, feeling safer than she had before, the Orcs didn't travel this far up North, lest they run into the Elves of Lothlorien.
After every day of travel she would rest near the bank of the river. Her eyes sharp on the treeline opposite on the eastern bank, having just passed the shallower waters of the undeeps and the northern plains of Rohan, she settled in for a colder night than what had been the norm the last several days. With a small pot she cooked a rabbit stew having managed to hit one with an arrow having still refused to eat any of the Cram on her, save for that one morning. Part of her regret that she had not killed the Warg, the deer would have sated her need for food for several days.
She reached into her pouch and withdrew several herbs, sprinkling them in with her stew. There was barely any meat on the rabbit she killed but it would have to do until she could find a calmer place on the river to fish.
After another two days she found herself walking along the banks of the Field of Celebrant, she crossed a bridge onto the eastern bank, intent on making her way to Mirkwood from where the river went as far North as it did until it turned Northwest towards Lothlorien. She estimated it to be a Eighty Mile journey from there.
On her final night next to the river bank she fished again, casting her line into the much calm waters, the fire behind her helping to keep her back warm, as she held the line, her eyes unfocused and drooping, ever for her such a trek had taken its toll, her bones and muscles ached in a way they hadn't for a long time but she couldn't stop now, only knowing her goal was to reach Mirkwood, an unknown compulsion drove her to want to go there. She could not fathom another way, assuming it was her instincts, which had never been wrong before, she would follow them to the end of whatever road it wanted to see her upon.
Two caught and cooked salmon and a full belly later Wednesday let the lull of sleep overtake her. Falling asleep the moment her head touched the ground, curling up beneath her travelling cloak, she fell asleep, exhausted.
Once she awoke the next she refilled her waterskin and a spare she had made out of the rabbit hide in the river, she headed north, eating a piece of smoked salmon as she went. And soon the calm sounds of water fell behind her and there was nothing ahead but grassy and hilly plain as far as the eye could. And yet she walked, undeterred and unrestrained in her goals. One step in front of the other. She stopped briefly around midday and took a small sip from the rabbit waterskin and munched on another piece of fish before strapping her bow to her back, hand on the hilt of her sword in its scabbard before pressing on.
And she heaved a sigh of relief as on the third day he could finally see the corrupted forest of Mirkwood. Electing to camp near a small stream that ran through the valley southward of the dark forest. She drank her fill before refilling them again and settling down to stoke the fire.
The next morning began with Wednesday rising at first light. She had reached the borders of Mirkwood just as the sun peeked over the top of the horizon, bathing the south side with amber light. She took one last look at the Sun before striding into the dark forest without looking back.
She didn't know how much her life would change, setting foot into Mirkwood.
Whispery strands of silk blew in a gentle breeze, the cobwebs a visual testament to sheer age and corruption of the forest, despite Dol Guldur having reduced to nothing, Wednesday noticed the darkness that had plagued Mirkwood was not as strong as it once was, Wednesday knew it was because of Sauron's destruction had lessened the hold of darkness upon the woodland although it would take years for it to recover from such corrupting evil.
She turned away from the barren hill that the great fortress had once stood upon, continuing further North. She noted that some of the great spider nests had either been destroyed or abandoned. It could only be the work of the Elves. Which is a shame the Spiders were always fascinating creatures to her and maybe even misunderstood despite their less than savoury origins.
But Alas, It was time she pressed on. Another hour deeper in the forest and she paused. What now? What was she to do? She had no plan, instead she had trekked to the darkest woodland in Middle-Earth, honestly she would of laughed at the irony of it and turned around to move back the way she came, she would head south and then follow the river back towards Lothlorien
But as she began making her way southward, she could hear a scuffling in the under-brush to her right, in one of the Spider Nests she had thought had been destroyed by the Elves. And there she saw it.
A lesser Spider. Sat in the middle of the destroyed nest, the bodies of other Spiders had been burned or slain, their blackish-green blood soiled the ground around them, its two legs on its left side had been badly injured, and blood seeped from the wounds. Wednesday stepped into the clearing and the Spider tensed up, baring its pincers at her threateningly. The lesser ring glowed briefly before simmering down.
"Easy there, spawn of Ungoliant, I intend you no harm" Wednesday said, taking small measured steps to reinforce her statement. The Spider eyed her wearily. It was in no condition to fight or flee. It could attack certainly, but it would be overwhelmed quickly despite its size.
Wednesday was in striking distance but she chose to examine the wounds on its two fore legs on its left side. She applied a small cloth with a few herbs to each leg and worked quickly to tighten them.
"What did this do to you?" Wednesday asked softly as she worked to reinforce her makeshift medicine. The Spider let out an angry hiss.
"The Elves, I thought as much" Wednesday replied "I have no food suitable for you however" Wednesday said before casting her gaze towards its dead colony. The Spider let out another hiss although it wasn't as angry as before.
"Ah yes, I forgot your kind have a tendency towards cannibalism" Wednesday replied without disgust as she tightened the last of the cloth "This should fall off in a day or two and you will be back to full strength I would imagine" Wednesday said with a small smirk. She always had an affinity with creatures rooted in darkness and corruption. They were simply misunderstood in her eyes.
"Farewell, creature of Mirkwood" Wednesday said with a small bow, before she retreated on the back foot and into the dense darkness of the woods. She picked her way carefully through low hanging branches and vines. The Spider moved up towards the next entrance and watched as Wednesday left but made no move to follow, instead it turned towards the bodies of its fallen kin, and its pincers snapped hungrily.
Wednesday settled at a hollowed out tree, two miles down from the destroyed nest, the day's trek and climb through the brush had worn her out quicker than she would have dared to realise. She felt her pouches around her waist, three of which were filled with food, two with her smoked Salmon, and the other with the wafer biscuits known as cram. She opened a pouch with tiredness and fished out some of the smoked salmon, she unwrapped it, taking a sniff to make sure it was still fresh, finding no complaint, she opened her mouth to take a bite.
"Move! Move!" The harsh cry of an Orc echoed around the forest.
Wednesday suppressed a frustrated sigh, leaving her knapsack behind she moved, knowing that Orcs frequented these woods, must be some of the remnants of the battle for Dol Guldur, the ones that had survived, she moved quickly and efficiently like a shadow making no traceable noise, swiftly cutting through brush and tree.
"Do you want me to whip you harder?! I said Move!" Wednesday almost winced as she heard the telltale sound of a whip cracking. Wednesday watched with a hardened gaze as five Orcs moved through the woodland with haste, their armour clacking and clunking as they moved, as she observed she noticed only one of them had a bow.
But what caught her attention the most was a humanoid, whether they were from the race of men or Elf she could not tell as a cloth sack was drawn down their body, coming to stop at their mid-stomach and their hands were bound behind their back. The Orc stuck with the whip again, the lashing causing the person beneath to yelp and whimper.
It was a girl, that much Wednesday could figure. Her mind was telling her to turn around, it was not her business. Nor was it in her nature.
Nor was helping the Spider, the other part of her mind argued.
But again, like with the pull to Mirkwood from before she found her legs moving of their own accord as she followed the band of Orcs deeper in the brush. The Orc with the whip suddenly shoved her to the ground, causing the girl underneath to yelp in pain.
"Shut it!" The Orc growled. The girl wisely obeyed. The same Orc turned to the others.
"Get a fire going!" It barked.
Two of the other four hastened to obey, using axes to quickly chop down several trees and tossing the wood into a pile in the centre. The one with the whip had a jagged looking blade in his right hand and began to stroke the blood across the front of their captive.
"It's been a long time since we have tasted flesh as tender and sweet as yours!" The Orc taunted with a gleeful sneer. The girl underneath whimpered again with what Wednesday realised were tears.
"Will you cut her up already?! I'm starving!" One of the wood gatherers complained, tossing its armful of logs onto the ground. The Orc moved swiftly, snarling in the other's face.
"We eat, when I say we eat!" The two Orcs growled and snarled screeching barks at each other causing Wednesday to roll her eyes as she unslung her bow and notching an arrow. She hated Orcs.
"Now then..." The Orc taunted wrapping its arm round the top of the girl's chest from behind. "...how about we start tenderising the meat?" the other four Orcs shrieked their approval.
There was a sound of whistling air as Wednesday's arrow flew through the air, taking the one with the bow down instantly. Body and bow being thrown to the ground.
Despite the loss of one of their own, the Orc Chief turned, its mouth turning into a crooked smile, showing sharp and rotting teeth.
"Looks like our meat portion has been doubled, boys!" Wednesday barely got the second arrow to fire before three of the five were upon her, the second one having been felled by the arrow. Wednesday threw the bow to the ground, she struck out with a punch, sending the Orc Chief to the floor, she moved backwards, barely able to retrieve her sword from its sheath, she brought it up in time to block a vertical strike, twisting her body to block the second coming into her side.
Wednesday was forced backwards by a surprisingly well coordinated set of strikes from the two Orcs, the initial surprise of it completely catching her by surprise, thankfully for her Orcs didn't have the patience to keep up such teamwork and the creatures of filth were beginning to falter.
The orc on the left tried another vertical strike, Wednesday was prepared for it and side-stepped, just to the wrong wide, she stepped it's left, leaving his flank wide open. Wednesday's sword sliced through both flesh and bone, the Orc let out a shriek as it tumbled to the floor, dead. But doing so left her own flank open, the Orc's blade struck across her thigh, pain shot through her body, sending her down onto her knee.
With a thrust, her blade slid into the Orc's more unprotected stomach. Its breath rattled in its death throes. The Orc fell to the floor dead as the Orc chief had recovered from her initial punch, the Orc cast the whip round it's head, allowing it to fly forward, the whip's end wrapped around the base of her blade, the Orc chief gave an almighty pull as it tore the blade from her grip. The Orc Chief hissed in unconcealed malice and glee.
Wednesday glared back as the Orc approached, still on her knee's her hand drifted down towards her boot. The Orc Chief, deluded and preoccupied with the thought of victory pressed forwards and didn't see it coming, it clutched at it's throat, the hilt of a small throwing dagger sticking out of the front of it, it gasped and choked on nothing, stumbling backwards, before falling, its life extinguished.
Wednesday finally allowed a hiss of pain to escape her lips she stumbled over to where her sword lay in the dirt, tugging it free of the whip, sheathing it once more and she retrieved her dagger at the same time. Blood trickled down her leg but she paid it no heed, the Orc's "evening meal" had remained both deathly still and silent during the skirmish.
Her footsteps echoed around the clearing as she moved closer.
The girl under the sack visibly stiffened at her approach.
"Please don't hurt me!" The girl's voice was soft as syrup and just as smooth, though Wednesday could sense the panic that had gripped her.
"Calm yourself, I have killed the Orcs that captured you" Wednesday spoke, moving behind to her bound wrists, withdrawing the knife from her boot as she crouched and began to cut through her bonds of rope. Small fingers grazed her skin gently sending sparks and shivers coursing through her body, the girl's breathing relaxed.
"Thank you" The voice said, muffled by the sack. Wednesday chose not to reply as the girl's fingers traced up and down the palm of her hand that was holding her hands still whilst she cut. The bonds broke away and Wednesday stepped back as the girl stood up, her height not dissimilar to her own, although she looked to be an inch or two taller than her.
Wednesday was not prepared for the sight her eyes were about to see.
The girl lifted the sack from her body. And over her head.
It was like the world had become muted, crumbling away around her, the colours of the world seemed impossibly dulled and washed out, lacking the vibrancy of the one before her. How could anything from before compare to this? Even the majesty and light of the Silmarils could never compare.
The girl shook her head as it was freed, her blonde hair shaking free, curling naturally at the ends. Several small blonde braids cascaded majestically in front of her face, further complimenting the flush red cheeks and incredibly soft looking pink lips. Luminous blue eyes met hers sending a fury of fire coursing through her, and small pointed ears could just about be seen under her luscious locks of hair. And her body glowed with an ethereal light that seemed almost blinding and she found she could not look away.
She's an Elf. Ran through Wednesday's shell shocked brain. It was the only coherent thought that had crossed her mind in the last minute, her mouth hung open slightly in pure, unfiltered adoration. Her entire being seemed to emanate light and radiance. Like a fire drake to gold, she found herself under the spell of the coruscating elf in front of her.
The girl's eyes swerved to look at her again and Wednesday gulped nervously. The Elf's face broke out in a warm, tender smile, which only furthered to highlight the red blush that seemed to be a permanent presence on the blonde Elf's face, a grace and etherealness about her that was otherworldly and divine.
Wednesday felt herself wanting to bend a knee in the presence of such divinity and she did. Only to realise it was because of the pain radiating from her thigh. Wednesday hissed through her grit teeth as she was brought back to the washed out world, colour having been forever ruined by the girl in front of her.
The girl's smile faltered as she saw a most damning sight, her saviour's thigh was covered in blood.
The girl stepped forward instantly "You're hurt" her voice a symphony of sound upon her ears.
Wednesday stumbled backwards, and the Elf girl made to follow, until Wednesday was brandishing the dagger from her boot in front of her, still covered in black Orc blood. Kindness and care was a foreign concept to her.
"Please you are hurt, I only wish to tend to your wound" the girl's face was sad, lacking the happiness it did before. The girl's luminous blue eyes bore into hers, it was like her very soul was being looked at, exposed and vulnerable, a wave of calm washed over her, but every instinct was screaming at her to fight it, lest she be hurt further.
What sorcery was being wielded against her? Never before had she experienced Elven magic, Sauron had warned her that it was nefarious as much as it was insidious, luring you into a sense of safety only to be stabbed in the back whilst most vulnerable. But as the Elf approached she found she could not protest.
The blade, despite every protesting thought, dropped to her side, the Elf moved forward with a small smile. Delicate fingers reached into her pouch that Wednesday only now noticed and retrieved several strands of the Athelas plant.
Wednesday found her voice and spoke.
"The Athelas plant has no use" Wednesday said, hissing as the Elf-girl applied it to her wound. The Elf looked up at Wednesday, their faces so close that Wednesday could count every star on her face as one could on a moonless and veiless night.
"Athelas has uses beyond the memory of man" the girl said with a smile of confidence and brevity. "Trust me, as I trusted you my saviour, it is the least I can do" the Elf said gently, their eyes met briefly and the elf smiled just as softly.
Despite the initial spike in pain, the wound now was reduced to a small ache and the bleeding had stopped, using a strip of cloth the girl secured in place. "Leave it be for a day" the girl instructed, gently closing the pouch at her side.
The Elf turned to look at her again "Your valour knows no bounds, may I partake and share in the name of my valiant saviour?" the Elf said, her voice as soft as a gently flowing stream.
"Wednesday." She said before she could change her mind.
If possible the Elf's smile grew that much brighter.
"Enid" she said, her eyes twinkling.
Wednesday opened her mouth to say something but no words could come out, how could they? The only language she knew was that of brutality and suffering, tenderness being truly a concept that seemed to come from distant shores. Instead she cast her eyes downwards. Eclipsing her own eyes from the beauty she felt unworthy to cast her gaze upon. Until impossibly soft fingers tilted her head back up, Enid's gaze was one of worry and care.
"What troubles you, my brave protector?"
How could one articulate such thoughts of her suffering in front of one so pure?
"I..." Wednesday said, faltering.
"Yes...?" Enid uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I... I don't know" Wednesday muttered, completely at a loss, the tenderness she found in those eyes, she simply did not feel worthy of. She tried to bow her head until hands grasped the sides of her face keeping her locked onto the eyes of the Elven Princess. The longer she looked, the more she felt her soul be laid bare, naked and exposed for her Elf eyes to see. But Enid did not recoil nor did she condemn
"I know, Wednesday, I know that you were a servant of the dark tower, but such darkness has not claimed you when it has so many others, your heart is one of purity that was defiled by him, nameless and accursed but unlike him you have good in you that need only be brought out into the light"
The Elf in front of her was a being of both purity and goodness. How could she ever compare?
Tears rolled down her cheeks as years of silent suffering and a longing to be free had taken over her entire being, the elf bringing such emotion bubbling to the surface. Wednesday questioned the Elf with tear stricken eyes who smiled at her sadly.
"These are tears Wednesday, let them flow, let them carry the pain away, let your sorrow show, let the fear of him fade away in the nothingness that awaited him for so long, let yourself be free of him"
"I don't think…. I don't think I can ever be free" Wednesday said shamefully.
"How so?"
"Because he controlled me for so long… because I don't know how," Wednesday said shamefully.
Enid took Wednesday by the hand and brought her to her feet, letting the girl's hands fall back down to her sides, she swept the braids of the darker haired girl behind her. Enid gently cradled her head in between her hands and pressed a small, lingering kiss to the girl's forehead.
Wednesday shivered at the brazen display of affection, letting the Elf's hands mould her like clay, letting her tilt her head until her gaze met that of Enid's. Her smile being one of purest light and hope. Something she had lacked for so very long.
Suddenly Wednesday felt the body of Enid engulf her own, slender arms wrapping comfortingly around her battle-worn and weary body. Wednesday felt no other desire than to wrap her arms around the Elf, her body warm and tender in ways that Wednesday could only sparsely imagine.
Enid rubbed her nose comfortingly into the crook of her neck, uttering a promise of absolution and forgiveness that she felt she did not deserve or earn. It was like being enveloped in the purist of lights and the warmest of blankets. Every touch of the hands a promise, every small exhale on her neck a comfort.
"Then I shall help you learn how, my fierce protector, this i promise you" the Elf vowed.
If only she herself could believe such honeyed words and ferocity of will.
She wanted to.
And when they pulled apart, Enid glanced down at her hands, scarred and rough, taking them into her own, cradling them as if they were precious and fragile. Her face lifted up, blue eyes now gazing into hers. Holding such fierce promise.
And a part of her, did.