Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

Over the River

Illeandir's heart skipped a beat when he heard the baying hounds. He looked back at Ithilwen running just behind him. Her long hair streamed behind her in a silky ribbon. Terror shone in her blue eyes. Behind her, Thrilo's short legs pumped quickly and steadily over the leafy ground.

Illeandir dodged around a thick trunked tree. Behind him there was a soft thud followed by a low grunt. Illeandir resisted the urge to look back again. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. With effort he pushed it down and forced himself to breathe evenly. He could not panic now. Not when his life and the lives of his companions rested in his ability to guide them through the forest and away from pursuit.

Shouting from ahead sent tendrils of ice shooting through his veins. He froze. Ithilwen crashed into him with a shout of surprise before ricocheting off the suddenly immovable wall in front of her. Illeandir caught her with one arm before she hit the ground. Thrilo, in an attempt to avoid hitting them, tripped over a protruding root and rolled to a stop.

"What in the blithering blue blazes has gotten into you!" he shouted furiously as he stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves off his clothes. Illeandir held his hand up for silence.

"We're surrounded." There was a note of defiance in his voice, as if he knew there was no escape yet would try anyway.

"Surrounded?" Ithilwen said in disbelief. Illeandir pointed to the north, then west, and finally south.

"They're coming at us from three sides." He began untying all his weapons and motioned for Thrilo to do the same. "Our only way out is the river."

"A grand idea, laddy," Thrilo said. His voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. " 'cept one thing."

"You can't swim." Illeandir guessed.

"I can't sw...!" Thrilo paused. "Oh." He had the sense to look chastised.

"It'll be a good time to learn." Illeandir said sharply. Whoever was chasing them was getting closer by the second. He wasn't going to stick around to find out who they were either. Without a word he set out for the river, weapons in hand. His longbow was still strapped to his back.

"Illeandir, wait for us!" Ithilwen called as she ran to catch up with him. Thrilo grumbled and went after the two elves who had suddenly thrown his life into chaos. Not that he had a stable life since he'd been thrown out of Erebor on trumped up charges, but he had just begun getting used to it. Briefly he wondered how his brother and sister were holding out.

At the river's edge Illeandir stripped down to his trousers. Ithilwen gasped and averted her eyes, blushing furiously. Illeandir ignored her as he tossed their possessions across the river, including his precious weapons wrapped in his clothers.

"Hope that didn't break them," he muttered. Thrilo handed the elf his things, watching somewhat regretfully as they sailed across the river and thumped against the bank, too close to the water for comfort. Illeandir shook his right arm. Throwing the heavy bundles had strained the damaged muscle further. He turned to Ithilwen, who was still facing away from his bare chest.

"Can you swim?"

She nodded.

"Then go!"

Galvanized into action, Ithilwen plunged into the icy water. A small screech escaped her lips. Illeandir made sure she was swimming strongly toward the opposite bank before grabbing Thrilo by the shoulders and jumping in.

The dwarf roared with anger as they fell. The roar quickly turned into a high pitched scream as the freezing water pierced his skin. Just before they went under Illeandir saw Ithilwen reach the far bank.

Water was everywhere. His ears, eyes, and mouth were filled with the frigid liquid. For a moment he was frozen, unable to move or think. A sharp kick from a struggling Thrilo brought him back to his senses. Kicking toward the surface with all his strength, he emerged, spitting out a mouthful of water. Thrilo spat and sputtered beside him, angrily shouting abuse at Illeandir. A wave to his face stopped him mid-word.

The current had carried them away from where Ithilwen sat shivering on the shore. Instead of simply dropping into the river where the current was weaker, Illeandir had jumped straight into the rushing water. It carried him and Thrilo downstream where a series of rough, jagged rocks waited to bash them to pieces.

Illeandir fought toward the shore but, with Thrilo dragging beside him and the relentless current, it was a losing battle. Slowly he made his way as the rocks loomed ever closer. The cold slowed his limbs until every stroke sent shooting pain through his body. Thrilo clung to his back, shivering from the cold.

Illeandir's foot scraped against the bottom. He had reached the other side! The bank angled steeply up until he was crawling in only a few inches of water. Thrilo rolled off his back and splashed into the water with a loud whoof as he released a pent up breath.

"Aye, laddy, that was something wasn't it?" he laughed. Illeandir said nothing. His arms and legs were shaking and he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"You made it!" Ithilwen exclaimed as she splashed through the shallows. "Thank the Valar!" She held Illeandir's face in her cold hands. He noticed her lips were still blueish. He started laughing. Ithilwen frowned. He only laughed harder. The absurdity of the past weeks had finally caused him to snap.

"Come," Ithilwen said worridly, "let's get away from this place before the soldiers see us." She helped Illeandir to his feet and guided him to the cover of trees. Thrilo was already sitting on the ground wringing water from his soaked beard.

"I'll get the supplies." Ithilwen said. Illeandir, who had stopped laughing, noticed she still refused to look at him directly. He wondered at it. When he had been trapped in the infirmary she hadn't seemed to notice whether he wore a shirt or not. Shrugging the thought aside, he sat against the nearest tree and stared numbly into space.

Some time later, whether it was moments or hours he found himself walking behind Ithilwen with no recollection of how he got there. She kept casting furtive glances in his direction. Thrilo plodded sullenly behind them, fingers opening and closing around an imaginary axe handle.

With some surprise, Illeandir noticed that they no longer were among trees but walked under a vast sky slowly turning from blue to red-orange. The Anduin flowed sluggishly just within sight, a band of silver cutting throigh the flat land. A brisk wind chilled his skin. He shivered. Ithilwen sneezed violently and he came to his senses. With renewed clarity he saw her arms, completely bare, were prickled with gooseflesh and she was shaking. Without thinking, he took his cloak off and wrapped it around her shoulders. She sighed heavily.

The cloak was heavy and warm against her frozen skin. It blocked most of the wing from touching her flesh. It was saturated with the heavy scent of a deep forest, musky and old, very old, but so full of life. She sneezed again and Illeandir's cloak fell from her shoulder. Before she could pull it back up Illeandir stopped her with a gentle hand.

"We should stop before it becomes too dark." His voice was soft but his eyes were blank, devoid of all emotion.

"No!" Ithilwen exclaimed, she tried to walk away but Illeandir stopped her.

"Look, your exhausted. I'm exhausted. We can't go on like this." He wisely left the dwarf out of the conversation. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. We need to rest."

"But the soldiers will catch us."

Illeandir snorted, "Out here, unlikely. If in the event they find us, we will be rested and able to escape. What good will running ourselves to the ground be if they find us and we're too tired to escape?"

Ithilwen sighed. He was right. Oh, how she hated it. But what did she know? She had grown up in the sheltered vale of Imladris without a care until she traveled to Minas Tirith to accompany her mistress, Lady Arwen.

"All right," she said after a pause. "But only if you'll let me check your leg."

Illeandir jerked his head once.

"Fair enough."
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Merry Christmas!

Bye now from here for a while.