Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

Into the Light

At first the bonfire lit the ground beneath the trees, and she could see easily enough. She started in the direction that he had left. Soon the lights of the clearing dimmed to a mere twinkle. The music faded into the chirp of crickets and the night song of birds. She moved smoothly twixt the trees, her eyes anxiously scanning her path. Occasionally she saw the glimmer of yellow eyes, in the trees, on the ground. She remembered Legolas telling her about the spiders of his forest.

Miredhel gripped her knife. He could not have gone very far, could he? The woods grew darker, only illuminated by a pale slice of moon from behind clouds. She could no longer see the bonfire behind her. She remembered very how she had foolishly not told anyone that she was leaving. What if Legolas had already returned to the feast and thought that she had left with Limaer? The best course of action would be to return to the forest circle.

Behind her, a twig snapped.

Miredhel slid behind a tree. "Legolas?" she asked hopefully, knowing that a wood elf like the prince could walk soundlessly through the forest. Whatever that was, it was not he. Miredhel studied the tree behind her, wondering if she could seek refuge in its branches. She looked down at her long white gown-beautiful, yes, but not so useful for climbing. The footfalls grew closer.

Miredhel aborted the idea of climbing a tree. She left the path and hastily moved from tree to tree, seeking protection from their broad trunks. Another pair of yellow eyes flickered in the dark. Miredhel sucked in her breath. Her idea had been so foolish. She should never have come. She pushed her way through several large ferns and underbrush, well aware of the steady tread behind her.

She would sneak back to the path, if she could find it and then speed back to the clearing. Hopefully, she could outrun this forest creature. She unsheathed her knife and waited. The forest grew silent. Her stalker had stopped. She picked up her skirts in her free hand that held the jeweled knife scabbard and very carefully began to loop her way back to the path. 'Please, do not let it be one of those spiders,' she prayed. After all, the Lady Galadriel had cleansed the forest of the creatures, had she not?

In the moonlight, she could see the forms of many velvety black moths flitting amidst the silvery moss and crackled lichens that gleamed in the tree branches. Vivid memories of an old dream returned to her, one in which she had seen Annariel in Mirkwood, fighting—the battle, the blood. She had seen these moths in her dream. Dark, silent guardians, rising in the haze of arrows and black orcs, they hid her friend from her sight. Miredhel clenched her eyes shut at the memory, as real as life it was.

When she opened her eyes, she caught a dim figure move before the trees in front of her, blocking her access to the path. An orc? She was trapped. Miredhel tightened her hold on her knife. She silently crept toward the path, her knife poised in the air before her. Three more steps. Two more steps. She took a deep breath and willed her heart to stop pounding. She squeezed the handle of her blade. One more step.

But before Miredhel could act, the orc leapt from around the tree, pinning her shoulders to the ground. Her knife clattered to the forest floor. Her arm stretched out to reach it when the creature's claws caught in her hair, pulling back her head to expose her neck. The cruelty in his eyes consumed her. She twisted beneath his weight. She would have cried out, if not for his blade pressed to her throat, sticky with dried gore.

"Go ahead and scream," he hissed. "Tastier for me..." He delighted in the fear in her eyes. She would do nicely.

Miredhel watched his eyes roam from her body to her hair, and the beast growled, a thick rumble against her chest. She held her breath.

"Urgrech," he cursed with pleasure. "Prince's love!"

"What?" Miredhel gasped.

The orc ripped some blooms from her hair and held them to the moonlight. Miredhel's arm was free again. She stole a glance to where her knife lay, and covertly reached to grab it.