Laer o Faen

Heleg ad Gwilith

Third Age of Middle Earth – 2840

Heleg ad gwilith

Mirkwood was dark, and more dangerous by nightfall than it was even by day, so she stole by longer paths, and by a treetop route across its breadth between her dwelling and her destination, heading first to the river and the coracle her parents kept there for fishing, then following the water toward the River Gate of the Elvenking's Halls. There she once more took to the treetops and by cover of night, cloud and other dense foliage, drew nigh to the gate, for she knew she must get inside.

It was the single roll of thunder that had begun the open act of defiance of her parents, and the argument she had had with them on her return home warred fiercely with the fear kindled by the thunder, and left behind by the dream... another vision, but this one, stronger and more visceral than any – ever – and in it she was on her knees before the elf she so often saw...

His white-blonde hair shone silver like starlight – always like starlight – and his eyes, though she knew them to hold much that was an expression of love, burned like ice. Her hands clutched at the lapels of the long robe that covered his powerful frame, and he held her arms, vice-like, almost painfully, but rather that than have him let go.

...the dread that lodged in her heart as Nieniriathlim rushed back in upon herself at the drawing away of the vision was one of unbearable loss; an unbreakable sense of doom. In spite of her parents, their argument, and her promises to them, she knew she could not delay – not for another moment – her efforts to discover the truth of all she saw, and to try and understand all she did not know.

It was by pure carelessness, one born of the fear instilled in her by her parents against coming to the heart of the Woodland Realm, that had ultimately precipitated the falling of the axe of fate. Nieniriathlim crept from shadow to shadow by the dim light of the near dawn, only to find the gates still firmly shut against the lingering night.

She should have known. She had heard the orders given by the watch commanders and their superiors as she had crouched hidden in the trees the day before. By what foolish notion did she consider it might be different before even the dawning of a new day?

Wedged within the same hiding place, but unable to shake the absolute need to get inside that was clawing at her so hard that it was almost a physical pain, she cast her eyes over the sculpted façade of the entry to the halls, the bridge across the river that flowed at its base, and the postern gate bare meters away from the main gate, but across the other side of the river, with no visible means of reaching it.

"There must be a way," she breathed to herself, realising it made little sense for the door to be there without a means of ingress. Perhaps it simply meant she could not see it from her current vantage point. As silently as she could she slipped down from the branch and crept into the foliage at the foot of the tree, measuring the shadows between where she crouched, and the smaller trees and bushes at the closest edge of the river directly across from the postern.

She had not taken the movement of the clouds, nor the slow setting of the moon into account.

Drawing up her hood, she kept it pulled low and tight around her face as she whispered across from cover to cover, slipping from shadow to shadow. She froze, like a deer or rabbit at the slightest sound and started first one way and then another to keep the whereabouts of the guards in sight. Then the wind shifted, and the low hanging crescent moon pointed its finger where she crept between the shifting, leafy cover.

The first she realised of her peril was the arrow that landed in the ground a breath away from her. The Elite guards of the Woodland Realm did not miss. She had watched them often and long enough to know this, and so knew that the placement of the shot had been deliberate, meant to keep her from advancing, drive her where they wanted her to be. Instead she turned and swerved aside, sprinting for new cover nearby, believing – in error greater than her peril – that if she reached it she would be able to slip to further shadows and make her escape.