The Shadow Walker

12. Hi! Remember Me?

Hands touched my shoulders, rolling me onto my back. The noose was tugged away from my throat, and strong fingers forced my mouth open. Something warm pressed over my lips, and air pushed into my lungs.

My eyes flew open, and I gasped. Sweet Lòthlòrien, it felt good to breathe!

"Whoa there," said the ellon kneeling over me. He held my head in one hand, and his other hand was pressed to my stomach, holding me still. It was the same ellon that had shot the rope. Around us, Elves were piling orc bodies to be burned, and removing the tree from the road.

Then I recognized my rescuer.

I groaned. "Definitely not one of your better ideas, buddy."

"What was I supposed to do, let you hang?" Elrohir argued as he untied me. "What are you even doing here, anyway?"

I scowled. "Spelunking."

Elrohir glared at me. "When are you not spelunking?"

I gave pause. It was a valid question. "When I'm running from Beorn," I answered finally. A new thought hit me, and I grabbed the ellon's forearm. "Bilbo. The Hobbit. Is he safe?"

"He is safe, but exhausted," Elrohir answered, and his tone softened, "and without doubt very worried."

I exhaled and let myself relax. "Thank Eru," I murmured. "What took you so orcking long?" I exclaimed suddenly. "I could've crawled to Rivendell in the time it took for you to rescue me!"

"Then why didn't you?" he smoothly countered.

"I was detained, in case you hadn't noticed." I frowned. "Where are my swords?"

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "We will find them. Please, do not try to move."

"I want my swords!"

"As you wish," he said, amusement showing through his concern. He turned and shouted to the others, "Watch for two matching swords!"

An elleth trotted over, carrying my swords, and presented them to Elrohir.

"Those are mine," I said, trying to reach up and snag them. The resulting pain was overwhelming, and I fell back. Mordor, I hated being injured.

Elrohir placed a steadying hand on my shoulder, then handed me the weapons. "Here you are. Now please, rest."

I took my beloved swords, but where was my dagger? My eyes widened. I'd left it in my satchel. I caught the gaze of the elleth.

"I want my satchel, too."

She shook her head. "We haven't found a single satchel. None of the orcs were carrying anything of that nature."

"Check the tree," I answered desperately. "It might've gotten tangled in the branches when it fell."

Elrohir's eyes rounded. Motioning for the elleth to follow my directions, he said, "You mean to tell me that you were in the tree when it fell?"

I pointed to what must've been a goose egg on my head. "How did you think I got this, genius?"

He smirked - or grimaced; I couldn't tell which. "With you, the possibilities are endless."

"I chose to take that as a compliment," I retorted in the snide voice he'd learned to love years ago. But my stomach writhed with the possibility I'd never see my dagger again.

He gave a light snort. "You do that, Eda."

The same elleth returned, my satchel in her hands. Tears of relief poked at my eyes as she handed it to Elrohir, who handed it to me.

I tore open the flap and dug around inside until my fingers touched the familiar hilt. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed, "Thank Illùvatar."

The elleth spoke. "It was caught high in the tree. How could you survive such a fall?"

I opened my moist eyes and glared at her. "Perhaps my skull is a bit thicker than yours."

Her eyebrows shot up at my furious tone, and after quickly bowing to Elrohir, she hurried away. I began to pull my knife out, so that I could stow it in my sleeve.

"You need not answer if you don't want to," Elrohir began carefully, "but what do you carry that is so important, that you would use our precious Illùvatar's name idly?"

I hesitated, then reluctantly left my knife in the satchel. "My money. I'm going to need a new pair of boots." My eyes widened. "Take me to Rivendell! Gandalf might already be waiting for me."

"I will take you to Rivendell," Elrohir agreed, "but whether Mithrandir is there or not, you will not be receiving any visitors in the healing room for some time."

I sighed, but didn't protest. Actually, a soft bed sounded fabulous right now. And it would be free. How could I complain?

"In order to transport you, I must remove the spear from your foot," Elrohir said.

Around us, The Elves had finished stacking the orc bodies and weapons, and the tree had been removed from the road. Now they gathered around, watching. I nodded, taking two handfuls of grass. "I'm ready."

He grasped my boot in one hand, and the shaft of the spear in the other. Then, in one sharp movement, he jerked the spearhead out.

I screamed. After a moment, the pain mercifully faded to a throbbing ache, and I opened my eyes, taking a deep breath. All around, the Elves were watching quietly, their keen eyes showing both concern and fascination. I glared at them.

"Don't be angry," Elrohir murmured as he gathered me into his arms. "We don't understand mortality."

He walked me to his horse and gently set me in the saddle. Then he swung up behind me. When he put a steadying arm around my waist, I leaned my head back to rest on his shoulder.

"There's something you ought to be aware of," he said in a cautioning tone.

"What?" I twisted my neck to meet Elrohir's glance.

"I'm betrothed."