Telwen's Tales

Prologue: A Night at the Tavern

Golden light shone out merrily from the windows of the tavern setting alight the faces of the people coming in. From her vantage point at the top of the stairs Telwen peered from behind the curtains down on the main room. Smiling barmaids wove in and out of the rowdy patrons, their large trays laden with food and drink seeming to float effortlessly through the chaos. There were a great many faces but she could not find the handsome captain’s in any of them. Pressing a hand to her roiling stomach, Tel ducked back further into the shadows.

“What is wrong with me?” She whispered quietly into the black. I miss my family. The answer came unbidden into her mind and she frowned at it. “This is what I wanted, an adventure.” Only it hadn’t been, it was the same as traveling with her family. The only difference was before she wasn’t lonely.

A soft creaking on the stairs alerted Tel to the innkeeper’s approach. Quickly she slipped into her show persona and flashed a warm, bright smile at the small man.

“Are you about ready yet?” His abrupt tone made her bristle but her training kept her outwardly calm and relaxed.

“A minstrel is always ready good sir.”

She followed him down the stairs watching the light from the lantern he held wink softly off his bald pate. Telwen hesitated before ascending the platform, closed her eyes and stilled her mind. Assuming a brilliant smile, she stepped lightly onto the stage.

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Aelred paused just inside the door, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness from the gloom outside. Striding to the nearest empty seat his attention focused to the slight young woman at the back of the room. Her blue-gray eyes sparkled with laughter and freckles were sprinkled liberally across her nose. Fiery hair flew in short strands about her head, punctuating her animated movements. He had meant to evaluate her with a critical eye but as the show wore on he found himself quickly engrossed in her tale, laughing at the antics of the protagonist.

He was still chuckling to himself when she announced the final song of the evening. Arriving late he had missed the previous ones and now braced his forearms on the rough wooden table leaning forward expectantly. When her voice lifted to join the melody of her harp he fell back against his chair. Listening to her voice was like watching the first rays of the dawn stretching out to grasp at the silver stars. The strings of her harp may well have been the strings of his heart for how she played them. If she had so desired it he may well have cried right there in the tavern.

“When the light is dying

and shadows are lying

dark and deep

hear our call in the wind

as trees in sorrow bend

while we weep

forlorn tears from ages past

promises that did not last,

this we cry

though forgotten we stand

on foundations of sand

built of lies.

other’s battles we fought

victory our blood bought

ours only.

still we are forsaken

sentries time has taken

lost are we.”

His own clapping was lost in the roar of applause; entertainment was rare enough in this stretch of Evendim and a minstrel of this quality performing was near unheard of. Bowing graciously she leapt gracefully down from the stage and slipped through the throng towards the innkeeper. Aelred watched as the wiry little man waved disinterestedly in his direction. Her pewter gaze collided with his silver one and a slow smile spread across his face. Smiling back she wound her way to where he sat. Setting her elbows on the table she rested her chin in her hands and looked at him eagerly.

“You must be Aelred, the captain of that company who posted the notice. I’m Telwen. So, what did you think? Do I get the job?”

Aelred cocked his head to the side and studied her pensively. “You are very talented but singing at a man with a dagger to your throat is not very effective.”

She laughed lightly catching him off guard. “You’d be surprised, ” she replied in a teasing tone. Sobering, Tel straightened in her chair and looked him directly in the eyes. “I am a shieldmaiden of Rohan and am descended from a family of traveling bards. From a young age I was taught how to defend myself. You will find me capable with a sword and shield. As well, I have some knowledge of herbs.” She leaned across the rough-hewn trestle table and grasped his hand in her small ones, her eyes pleading. “I can be a great asset if you would just give me a chance.”

Aelred paused, weighing his words carefully. “Just two more questions if you please.” Telwen nodded and settled back into her chair. “Why would you want to give up this to be an adventurer?”

A smile played on her lips and she seemed to gaze past him. “Ever since I first learned to speak I have spun tales of ancient heroes and their brave deeds but for once, I want to live those stories, and write my own.” Her gaze returned to his with a shy smile. “And your second question was?”

“Are you available to start tomorrow?”

The smile she gave him was brighter than the sun itself.

Chapter 1: An Evening in Evendim

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, its soft pinks melding into the deep blues of the lake. Across to the far side, the shore rose out of the hazy mists, the green limbs of its trees scraping against the sky yet bejeweled with its trappings of night. In the distance a bird could be heard cheerfully greeting the dawn with song. Atop a ridge overlooking the lake, a young woman sat, her back to an old willow, quietly strumming her lute. A few feet away lay an elaborately stitched travel pack, a shield that while ornate was rather small, and an old but well-kept sword. At the sound of the bird’s melody her blue-gray eyes lit with merriment and she changed subtly the tune she had been playing to compliment it. After a few minutes of careful thought, she lifted her voice to join in adding a harmony.

The wind whispers to me

and I’ll answer gladly

until the Sun sinks low

while the water ebbs and flows

come dance along the swells

and listen to the tales I’ll tell…

The cracking of a branch interrupted her song and she looked up, startled to find a large man standing in front of her, black against the rising sunlight. Telwen squinted and raised a hand to brush her hair out of her face but she could still barely make him out; though she was quite certain that he was not a member of the fellowship she had joined a few days past. Standing, she politely offered her hand in greeting.

“I am Telwen, a bard of Rohan. Pleased to meet you. Are you with Aelred as well?” The man just stared at her outstretched hand and she let it fall limply to her side. Tel’s grip on her lute tightened as she felt a stab of worry. Suddenly, the rules Aelred had laid out for the company did not seem so trivial and she fervently wished she had brought someone along with her this morning. Or at least kept her gear closer at hand. Or been within shouting distance of help. Damnation, Aelred is going to have my head. She glanced back at the man, and noticing the long daggers hanging from his belt, she swallowed hard. That is, if this stranger doesn’t take it first.

Ignoring her greeting the stranger’s dark eyes looked her over before finally replying in a gruff voice, “So you are a bard. Good.” Telwen blinked a few times in bewilderment, then paled as he reached for her. “You are coming with me.”

The hell I am. Bringing her lute up, she slammed the end of it into his stomach. When he doubled over in pain, she spun it around and brought the shell of it crashing down on the back of his head. After he collapsed in an unconscious heap, Telwen hesitated. She knew full well she should try to get away while she had the chance, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave her gear as it was all she had left of home. The sword alone had been passed down through the generations of her family. Beautifully worked and having seen its share of battles, Telwen swears if she sits quietly it will sing to her of the deeds it has performed.

Her decision made she moved to retrieve her gear while whispering apologies to her lute. Before she had taken a step, however, a wicked looking dagger flashed in front of her face halting her steps. The blade bit into the soft skin of her neck and Telwen had to stifle a cry. With a husky laugh, a woman, her face weather beaten and haggard from a life of hardship, stepped into view. Never taking her eyes off of Telwen she carefully increased the pressure of the point of the knife until Tel felt a drop of blood roll down her throat.

“Drop the lute.”

Her eyes widened and disregarding the knife aimed at her jugular, Telwen cradled her instrument to her chest. “This was hand carved by a master! It’s practically priceless, I’m still sending him payments! I can’t just..”

“Drop. The. Lute. Now.” Sighing, Tel tried to lean as far as the knife would allow her before releasing her grip on the lute, wincing as it clanged to the ground.

“Quite a nuisance you are, and we had come only asking for your help. Such rudeness. But you can make it up to us by leading us to where we wish to go.”

Mindful of the blade pressed against her throat, Tel spoke as gently as possible. “I don’t know that I will be of much assistance to you; I am a stranger to these lands.”

“But you know legends and that will be good enough. Now will you behave?” The minstrel considered her situation for a moment before nodding grudgingly.

“Good girl.” The brigand removed the dagger from her neck but kept it pointed at her. Tel eyed her surreptitiously. Only one shot at this. Pretending to draw a deep breath of relief, Telwen uttered the loudest, most discordant note she could muster. The knife clattered to the ground as the woman’s hands flew to cover her ears. Shoving her aside Tel snatched up her lute and dashed towards her gear.

After only a few steps she felt a sharp blow on the back of her head. White-hot pain lanced through her entire body. The world blurred and shifted focus until she could no longer stand. Wavering, her knees buckled and she fell forward. Fading from consciousness, she only barely felt the rough cords being wound about her wrists, and the kick that rolled her onto her back. Glaring down at her was the thug who had first interrupted her perfect morning. Damn, goon number one woke up, and then the world went black.

If the jostling did not stop she was going to be sick.  Moaning slightly she struggled to open her eyes but all she saw was brown. As her sight focused she realized that she was being carried by a man, the back of whose coarse brown shirt she was now staring at. Confused, she attempted to talk but found that she had been gagged.

“Looks like someone is finally coming around.” That voice sounded so familiar…oh no, the memories of her kidnapping came rushing back. She squirmed and tried to articulate around the rag in her mouth. All she could manage however were muffled grunts, which she punctuated with sharp kicks. The last of which she felt make contact.

Letting out a string of curses that would have a sailor blushing, the ruffian dumped her unceremoniously onto the ground and turned towards his partner. “Moire, the red-haired wench is already proving more trouble than she’s worth. We’re not even supposed to have her!” Here he paused to grin maliciously at Telwen, “I say we throw her in the lake and see how well she swims with her hands and feet bound.”

Moire walked over and knelt in front of Tel, her head cocked to the side considering. “Easy Floyd, I say we wait and see what the boss has to say about her.”

Floyd grunted and scowled down at her. “Fine.” Nudging Tel not so gently with his foot he spat, “Get up. You can walk on your own now.” Rubbing his swollen nose, Floyd spun around and started off down the path.

Telwen would have loved to point out the difficulty in standing when your hands are bound, but she was still gagged. After a few minutes of struggling she managed to make it to her feet, but hours spent thrown over the shoulder of that brute had left her legs with very little feeling and she was having great difficulty merely walking in a straight line. Stumbling after the two brigands, Tel wished desperately that the journey would be a short one.

Several hours later, as the sun, red and sullen, hung low in the sky, Telwen caught the faint scent of smoke on the wind. As the party crested a small hill she could make out a shabby campsite huddling against the base of a cliff. There were three more ruffians lying around the fire but it was the last, a large, burly man with a permanent scowl who held Tel’s attention. He carried himself with authority and the wicked scar running the length of his face before disappearing down his collar lent him a sinister air. Just then his eyes met hers and even from that distance, the coldness she saw there sent a shiver running down her spine.

As the threesome made their way through the camp one of the brigands, a tall, lanky man, glanced up at them. His pockmarked face split into a mocking grin as he shouted out, “Oi, Moire, why’s she all trussed up like that? Can’t be tellin’ me that that lil wisp o’ a lass was givin’ ya that much trouble?”

Moire tossed him a spiteful look, “Shut it Perry!” Then, turning towards the surly looking man, “Barret, we need to talk to you about this one.”

Barret merely nodded, and after a quick exchange of words with Moire, Telwen was dragged to a nearby tree and lashed roughly to it. The gag was removed but her hands were left bound behind her back and she wiggled around in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position. Giving up, she closed her eyes and just enjoyed the little respite she had. They were speaking in earnest now, and she listened carefully to what snippets of the whispered conversation she could overhear.

“We can’t trust her…what happened earlier…”

“It will be faster…a bard would know the legends…where they are buried…” Telwen stifled a gasp. These were not just any highwaymen, but the tomb-robbers her fellowship had been sent to clear out!

Barret, who had been silent up until this point, made a quick gesture with his right hand and both Moire and Floyd fell silent. “Well, she’s here now, let’s see if we can make use of her.”

His dead eyes flicked to where Tel sat and he looked her over carefully before starting towards her. Heart pounding, Tel sucked in a breath as he slowly drew out his knife. Looming over her, the dagger seemed to flash and blaze in the firelight. As it drew closer she found she could not take her eyes off of it. With one motion, the blade slashed through her bonds, cutting them easily and Telwen stared up at him in astonishment. Smiling disarmingly, Barret handed Tel her lute.

“Barret no!” Floyd started forward, but Barret forestalled him with a look.

“What is she going to do against all of us? It’s been a long while since I’ve heard a minstrel perform; make yourself useful and play us something lass.”

As she stared up at him her pulse raced and her mind brimmed with questions. Is this some sort of trick? But as Barret settled back and watched her expectantly, Tel decided to seize the opportunity and make of it what she could. Bowing her head slightly, she put on a charming smile and set her fingers dancing across the stings.

For the next few hours she played the most rousing tunes she could conjure. Watching closely, she began to see toes tapping along with the music and half way through A Bonny Lass, Moire even leapt to her feet and danced a jig with Perry. As the night wore thin Tel made sure to subtly slow the tempo of her performance and soon enough yawns began to form. Floyd was the first to give in; Tel glanced up at the sound of gentle snoring and noticed him curled up in his cloak. Not long after that, the rest of the brigands fell into an easy slumber.

Even though the strain of the day was weighing heavily on her, Telwen played through another ballad. When satisfied they would not awaken, she gingerly got to her feet and made her way over to where they had placed her belongings.

As she was packing away her things she sensed a presence behind her. Before she could react, a hand appeared out of the night and clamped down upon her wrist as its twin stifled the scream that rose to her throat.

“Be still. I am a friend.” Recognizing the voice of Aelred, Telwen nearly went limp with relief. As he released her, she turned around and hugged him fiercely.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered.

Aelred looked amused, his smile flashing brightly against the dark. “Rescuing you of course.”

Frowning, Tel turned and busied herself with packing. After securing her lute, she buckled on her sword belt and slung her pack across her shoulders. Brushing past him she remarked, “I was rescuing myself just fine.” Then she paused and grinned at him. “Though I don’t mind the company.” Aelred just shook his head and followed her silently out of the camp.

When they passed the last tent, Telwen breathed a sigh of relief. It was short lived. Before they had reached the safety of the tree line, a shout rang out. Aelred swore and readied his giant sword, barking orders at her in a low voice.

“You stay behind and cover me but try not to get into the thick of things. I’ll…” Telwen was only half paying attention as she frantically felt along her belt until at last her fingers closed around the little object she’d been searching for.

Slipping around to his front she held a hand to his mouth quieting him. “I’ve got an idea. Run.”

Aelred looked at her askance. “That’s original, think of that all by yourself?”

Tel frowned at him in annoyance. “No. You run, I’ll stay back and use this.” She held her hand palm up and laying in it was a miniature horn, its golden finish winking in the soft starlight. Her eyes held his. “Trust me.” Reluctantly, Aelred turned and started off at a slow lope, looking over his shoulder every so often.

Marking where he entered the woods, Telwen turned back around and waited for them to find her. Hoping to gain their attention, she fell to the ground crying out and clutched her ankle. Within seconds she was surrounded. She brought her hand to her mouth as if in fear and blew with all her might on the little horn.

The sound that erupted rang out through the forest and echoed off the hills. In its wake was the most complete silence she had ever heard and for a minute she feared she had been deafened by the blast. Her pursuers were lying motionless in a semi-circle around her. Without sparing them a second glance, she sprung to her feet and took off after Aelred.

As she entered the woods she heard a soft moan and turning found Aelred still rubbing his ears. “Where in all of Middle Earth did you find that?!”

Grinning she tugged his arm, “Later, I promise. But for now we should really run.”

The branches whipped past her, every so often stinging her face in reprimand for not paying attention. But the sound of the outlaws giving chase spurred her onwards. There was a slight breeze past her left cheek and she heard someone scream in agony behind her. Looking up she spotted the elf, Celírdagor in a tree, another arrow already nocked awaiting its release. Springing up seemingly out of nowhere, the little hobbit Rose appeared beside her long enough to wink mischievously before fading out of sight once again.

Stopping in her tracks, she stripped off her pack, flung it to the side and drew her sword. Instinctively, she began to hum a battle dirge, her blade dancing along with the melody. Raising her voice to be heard above the fray, Tel charged into the battle.

Floyd met her and slashed his sword at her midsection. Barely dodging the blow, Tel tumbled backwards, her song faltering. He gave her a vicious smile, “I’ve been waiting for this since we met. Prepare to meet your ancestors, girl.”

Striding forward he rained blows down upon her. Stumbling back, she lost her place in the song, her only thought on survival. His swings were purposefully broad and he grinned every time she winced from parrying his attack. The last blow finished her, and she fell to her knees shaking from its impact. She could hear her blade still humming the dirge but even with its encouragement she could not bring herself to rise. Choking back tears she lifted her eyes and looked past him. Instantly she felt her tears dry and her mouth curved into a grin.

Floyd hesitated, then scowled down at her, “I’ll not fall for your tricks again, it ends now!”

“Baruk Khazâd!”

Tel looked away as there was a deep thud and Floyd’s lifeless body hit the ground beside her. Opening her eyes, she saw Lodi in front of her brandishing his axe. The other members of her fellowship began to gather around. With help from Lodi, Tel got to her feet shakily.

Looking around at them all she offered a watery smile and looked sheepishly down at her feet. “I apologize for all the trouble I seem to have caused. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.”

Lodi was the first to respond, aiming a stern look at Aelred, “Boy, that lass,” jerking his thumb at Telwen, “attracts more trouble than an auroch attracts flies. Why didn’t you invite her sooner?”

Chapter 2: Before this Night is O’er

The tip of her pen scratched lightly against the parchment, her head bowed over the makeshift desk. Dust motes swirled lazily in the golden sunlight which streamed through the slit in the opening of the tent, setting her copper hair ablaze. She would pause every so often to tap the pen delicately against her nose as her brow furrowed deep in thought.

It was during one such pause that the flap of her tent was thrown open and a large, well-built man, his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, strode in. Startled and slightly annoyed at the sudden intrusion, Tel glanced up at the interloper, who calmly smiled down at her his gray eyes flashing.

“Trolls,” he stated leaning his hip casually against her little writing desk.

Telwen raised an eyebrow quizzically and waited for him to elaborate. When it became apparent that no more information was forthcoming, she shifted in her seat and asked, “Trolls?” The man nodded once.

“Aye. Trolls.” He responded with a cheerful gleam in his eyes. Tel sighed and rubbed her forehead wearily.

“Blast it, Aelred, what about the horrid things?”

Now he grinned outright at her and turned to leave. “Pack your bags, we’re going to hunt some.” His hand on the flap of the tent, he paused and tossed her a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t forget that little horn, might come in handy.”

Tel wrinkled her nose at him. “Only if you promise not to play with it again. Celírdagor’s ears rang for days!” Laughing Aelred ducked out of the tent and with a sigh, Telwen turned her attention to packing.
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Tel rested her head wearily on the shoulder of her horse, Reckless, who responded with a half-hearted nicker. They had been traveling all day along a hilly path that meandered through the trees. The forest was stunning and had thoroughly commanded her attention for a good part of the day but as night hastened its approach she found herself so spent as unable to fully appreciate the beauty of the surrounding foliage. Instead her gaze fell most often to the dappled shadows which danced along the ground in the fading light. Hitching her pack higher onto her shoulder she winced, her muscles sore from the nightly sword lessons Aelred had insisted upon since her adventure with the brigands. Rubbing her arm absentmindedly, she grudgingly admitted that her swordplay had indeed improved, though she wasn’t sure how that would aide her if she was unable even to lift her arms.

Aelred’s voice calling to make camp for the night broke through into her thoughts. Happily she rubbed Reckless’ neck, “I bet you want some nice oats, huh boy?” He tossed his head and snorted his assent. After bedding her horse down for the night, Tel hurried to the campfire where Rose was stirring a pot from which emanated the most mouthwatering aromas. Her stomach rumbling she dug hastily through her pack to find anything to eat with. As her hand clasped the bowl, a shadow fell over her. Glancing up she felt her heart sink into the pit of her empty stomach. Aelred stood with his legs spread and arms folded across his chest, frowning down at her.

“Forget something?”

“But..” Telwen threw a desperate look behind her at the stew simmering over the flames before sighing in resignation. Dejectedly she took up her sword and followed him into a clearing near the camp. For a solid hour he lead her through more and more advanced maneuvers, their blades flashing in the moon’s light. It was not until Tel was panting heavily and perspiration soaked her brow before Aelred declared their session over. Eagerly, Tel ran back to the pot and was in the process of heaping spoonfuls into her bowl when a shout from Celírdagor chilled her to the marrow.

“Trolls!”

She whipped her head around and watched his pale hair streaming behind him as he bounded lightly across the ground towards them. Lodi followed huffing, his beard bouncing upon his chest with every step. Tel searched frantically for a safe spot to leave her stew before leaping to her feet. Snatching up her lute she scurried to where Aelred stood with his great sword drawn staring out into the forest, swearing under his breath.

Telwen ran through all of the war songs she knew until she found one that fit. Her fingers danced across the strings of their own accord, drawing out the intricate ballad and her voice lifted to join it.

the song of battle calls

with sword and shield reply

hearts as stone we face their fall

ere the sun greets the sky

we will quiet the cries of war

before this night is o’er

upon us they will break

like waves upon the shore

destruction in our wake

the scars of bitter war

as rivers, blood will pour

before this night is o’er

the red stain of dawn’s light

across the darkled skies

will herald victory this night

and from shadows’ grasp we’ll rise

peace again we will restore

before this night is o’er

A troll burst out from under the cover of the trees, leaving leaves swirling madly in his wake. At the mere sight of his gnarled, beastly appearance Tel felt her song falter. He rose up, black against the sky and in the dim moonlight his eyes seemed to glow with a savage gleam. There were rustling noises from the undergrowth and two more trolls emerged into the little clearing. Tel vaguely heard Aelred swear and Celírdagor whisper something in Sindarin. Lodi’s ax rasped as he freed it from its sheath. She felt someone give her fingers a little squeeze and realized that she had ceased playing. Looking down she saw Rose giving her a weak smile, her hazel eyes watery.

“It’s my first time seeing a troll too,” she whispered. Tel swallowed hard and tightened her hold on Rose’s hand, feeling comforted by the contact.

Wetting her dried lips, Telwen whispered back, “We’ll get through this. Aelred won’t let anything happen to us.”

Rose nodded, though her face was obscured by the curtain of strawberry blonde hair cascading across it but Tel felt her grasp on her hand loosen a bit. “We’ll get through this,” she murmured.

The silver moon hung on a necklace of stars over the little clearing. Its pale light filtering down through the boughs gilding all it touched. As stone statues the trolls stood, their quiet snarls the only thing that dared to break the silence. Hands tightened their already white-knuckled grasps on all too familiar weapons. A light breeze stirred Lodi’s chestnut braids, tangling them in its fingers before tossing them over his shoulder. Celírdagor’s eyes, green as the leaves which swirled around them, flicked to Aelred, who stared in stony silence at the menace before them.

Of a sudden, a bloodcurdling howl erupted from the largest of the trolls. With no further warning he charged, gouging the ground with every step, the other two following closely on his heels. Lodi challenged with a bellow of his own, hefting his mighty axe above his head to bring it crashing down on the lead troll. Catching the second with his shield he sent it flying. The third however barreled past him, aiming for the elven hunter who stood a few feet behind, rapidly loosing his arrows with a casual grace. But before the beast could reach him, Aelred stepped in slashing his blade across the creature’s midsection.

Atop a small rise behind the fray, Telwen and Rose yet stood, watching the macabre dance unfolding before them, each step gruesome even in its grace. As if waking from a reverie, Rose shook herself and released her hold on Tel’s hand. Pulling her hood over her light hair she melded into the shadows. She winked back into view at the troll’s flank only to fade from sight once again; flitting through the battlefield like some baleful butterfly.

Tel blinked hard, as if waking from a deep slumber. Flinging her lute across her back, she drew her sword; the blade singing as she released it from its sheath. Renewing the war song, she ran to Lodi who still faced two of the trolls. Moving in time to the dirge’s cadence, she unconsciously slipped into the fighting stance Aelred had drilled into her. Angling to the brute’s back she pulled her arm in tightly against her body and drew it upwards in a slashing motion. Dodging out of the way as the beast leapt back from one of Lodi’s swings she was frustrated to find that it had left barely a scratch. Spinning out of the way yet again she reversed her grip on the sword and tucked hilt of her blade under her arm, pressing the palm of her left hand against the pommel she used the momentum of her movement to drive the blade into the creature’s back. The jarring impact sent vibrations so severe her arm almost lost all feeling. She stumbled back wide-eyed and at a loss as to how to continue.

“Lass,” Lodi gasped ducking a blow meant for his head, “don’t waste your time there, aim for the vulnerable points!”

Dancing around, Tel looked for any opening. The beast reared back, drawing his arms up over his head. Seizing the opportunity, Telwen rolled under him and thrust her blade into the soft flesh under his arm. Celírdagor had had the same thought and Tel heard the sickly thud as several of his arrows found their mark in its neck and chest. The creature roared in anguish, feebly plucking at the shafts protruding from its body. Thrashing in its death throes, the troll lashed out catching Tel and Lodi off guard sending them flying apart. She hit the ground hard and rolled several feet more before coming to a halt. Spitting the dirt out of her mouth and moaning she watched the troll wheeze wetly and collapse to the ground.

Feeling the earth shake Tel chanced a glance over her shoulder to see Rose atop the troll she and Aelred had felled, shaking the blood from her daggers. Giddy with relief, Tel gave a small cheer. She struggled to sit up and carefully rotated each joint checking for serious injury.

A dreadful snarl caused the hairs on the nape of her neck to rise. Vaguely aware of her friends’ yelling she slowly raised her gaze to the leader of the band of trolls who crouched a few feet away. Telwen’s heart caught in her throat at the sight. Its thick, corded muscles flexed powerfully beneath its grayed rough skin as it lumbered towards her. The yellowed eyes of the beast cast a dark shadow across her soul, rendering her motionless. She heard Aelred calling out desperately to her.

“Telwen!”

With a gasp Tel felt the bands constricting her chest fall away. The spell broken she rolled quickly to her right as the brute’s club slammed into the earth leaving a crater where she had been. Dimly she heard the twang of Celírdagor’s bow as he let loose a storm of arrows upon it. But already the beast had readied another attack and as it came crashing down she darted between its legs causing it to turn and face its other attackers. As she scrambled away from it she heard the sickening thwack as several of her fellows’ blows found purchase. The creature wavered on its feet before pitching forward, slamming into the ground next to Telwen.

Face to face with the now deceased troll Tel managed a half moan, half sigh before dropping onto her back. Aelred rushed over to her and gently cradled her in his arms.

“Rose, check on Lodi!” Lifting her head his gray eyes clouded over with worry, “Tel, are you alright? Are you hurt at all?” She opened her mouth but the words did not seem to want to form. Across the clearing Lodi was swatting at poor Rose who kept trying to help him up.

“Leave me alone, it was just a wee bump on the head. Barely felt it.” Rose sighed in exasperation and gave up, wandering back towards Telwen and Aelred.

Tel reached up and tugged weakly on Aelred’s shirt until he looked down at her. “I just want one thing,” she whispered.

He smiled and brushed a stray piece of hair off her face, “What is it?”

“Where’s my stew?”

Chapter 3: A Faulty Flautist

“That is one big troll.”

Telwen glanced down at the little strawberry haired hobbit beside her as they caught their breath. She was beginning to hate the Trollshaws.

“Rose! We need you, now!” Grimacing, the hobbit tugged her hood up to cover her light hair and melted into the night. Fumbling with her flute’s case, Telwen shrugged her shield awkwardly up onto her shoulder.

“Oh no.” Gingerly picking the instrument up she looked in dismay at the bog muck that had manage to seep into the casing. She wiped off the mouthpiece as much as she could and brought it reluctantly to her lips. Disgusting gunk sputtered out of the end and the most horrific squeal came out of the poor thing that she thought her ears might bleed. What was worse, however, was the agonized howl that answered it.

“Telwen, what did you do!?” The ground shook as a ferocious snarl stood the hairs on the back of her neck on end. She didn’t bother to even glance behind her as she took off running through the trees. A giant rock hurtled into the trunk next to her, pelting her with splinters of bark and wood. Falling to the ground she curled into a ball, throwing her hands up about her head.

“Baruk khazad!” Lodi’s battle cry echoed through the forest and she felt the troll turn to face the new threat.

Picking herself gingerly off the ground she wiped the detritus off her clothes. Frowning at her instrument she gave it an indelicate shake before bringing it up once more. Wincing she held the offending flute away from her. “Better. Slightly.” An angry bellow shuddered through her as heavy footsteps pounded the earth. “Oh dear, here we go again.” Darting back towards the others, Telwen zigzagged between the trees, imagining the entire time that she could feel the hot breath of the troll upon her neck. Breathless she grabbed a hold of Aelred and hid behind him.

“Stop playing that!” the ebony-haired captain hissed.

“I’m not much use if I don’t have an instrument!” the little, fiery-haired minstrel hissed back. They both watched, Telwen peeking out from behind Aelred’s broad shoulders, as Lodi baited the beast again. Rose trailed after, huffing and muttering under her breath.

“My dear minstrel, if you insist on playing…that…perhaps you could stay in one place at least? I am afraid the little one will not tolerate much more.” Celírdagor’s voice was serious as usual but she could see his green eyes laughing. At her.

“Don’t you have something, anything, else you could play?”

Telwen leveled her pewter gaze at the silver-eyed captain. “Oh yes, I just happen to have a harp tucked in my pocket here, I simply thought ‘would it not be so much fun to put my mouth all over a muddy, disease ridden flute instead!’” Her voice rose steadily throughout, until she was nearly shouting at the end. “Where, exactly, would I keep another instrument? I am already carrying a sword, a shield and a flute!”

Aelred threw his hands in the air, “Well you are not much help now. Every time you ‘play’ that blasted thing the troll howls and charges after you. At which point you start running around like a cornered mouse forcing all of us to chase after you, I might add.”

The color rose in Telwen’s cheeks until they blazed. “I-” a thoughtful look flashed across the minstrel’s features, quickly replaced with a mischievous gleam that gave the normally confident captain pause. “I have an idea.”

“Oh Eru, no, no Telwen we need to discuss this before you do something rash. Telwen!” She had already taken off towards where the other three were fighting a losing battle with the troll, her copper hair flashing in the moon’s light.

“Get ready.”

“Ready for what lass?”

Ignoring his worried tone, Telwen grinned broadly at dwarf. “You’ll see.” Bringing the flute to her lips, she placed her fingers delicately along the finger-holes and took a deep breath. The remaining dross flew out with a high-pitched squawk. Covering his tiny ears, the troll made a noise that sounded almost as if the beast were crying and reared back, fully exposing his throat. Telwen held the offending note until she felt faint as her companions hurled themselves at the writhing creature. With a final shudder, the giant fell sending a shock wave through the earth. Breathlessly Tel fell backwards, giddy with relief and began giggling hysterically.

“I can’t believe that worked.”

Chapter 4, part 1: The Hidden Warning

The little group stared out over the abandoned campsite. Celírdagor was walking in slow, careful circles, his leaf-green eyes riveted on the trampled grass beneath his feet. Telwen cocked her head to the side and squinted at the dry, cracked ground herself, trying to notice anything that would hold his attention so enrapt. Giving up she wandered about, examining various sundry items that had been scattered about by their owner in his haste. Picking up a copper kettle she frowned thoughtfully at her reflection in its hammered surface.

“What do ya think happened here?” wondered Rose as she poked about the cold embers of the fire.

Celírdagor pointed to a spot where the grass had been visibly torn, ripped by its roots from the ground. “There was a struggle here, someone attacked our missing camper.” Kneeling down he gently parted the green blades, “There’s even some blood here.” Leaping to his feet suddenly, the elf strode off to the side, “The fight continued over here and,” after peering down into a depression on the far side of camp he stepped back and turned to the rest of the fellowship who were watching him with interest, “our friend won.” Shielding his eyes from the harsh sun, the hunter cast about for more clues. “But not without sustaining some injuries himself.” Celírdagor paused beside a tree, his sharp eyes scanning its length, “He stopped here for a bit before returning to pack his things and headed northeast. My guess is for Ost Guruth.” His hand darted out, disappearing inside a hollow of the tree. It reappeared with a scroll, his long fingers wrapped about the yellowed parchment.

Aelred stepped forward and examined it in detail, the others crowding around. There was a thick wax seal upon it with a strange symbol of a bird pressed into it. Frowning, the captain tried to lift a corner of the parchment.

“It’s no use, can’t even see who it is addressed to.”

Turning to the fire Rose had carefully revived, Telwen filled the copper kettle and set it on the flames.

“Tea really? At a time like this?”

Rose turned to the captain aghast, “It is always a good time to have tea! Helps stimulate the mind,” replied the hobbit indignantly.

As the steam began to escape with a soft whistle, Telwen gently plucked the scroll from Aelred’s hands. “I’ll just take that, thank you.” Holding it near the steam she eased a knife along the edges of the seal as it began to soften, carefully peeling it back.

“Telwen!” the captain hissed, “that could be private, it was sealed for a reason.”

Ignoring him the little minstrel kept at her work, the pink tip of her tongue darting out in concentration. “Well it’s not doing anyone any good as it is,” she replied matter-of-factly, “it’s just so we can see who it’s addressed to so we can deliver it properly.”

A frown creased the Aelred’s face, his silver eyes troubled. “I suppose, it still feels wrong somehow.”

With a cry of satisfaction, Telwen gently unrolled the scroll. Her pewter eyes scanned the contents, her brow furrowing as she read.

“Tel you said that you were only going to read who it was addressed to,” said Aelred accusingly.

“There wasn’t a header of any sort, so I read on,” she murmured absentmindedly. “This isn’t good.”

“What?” The three members of her fellowship pressed against her, each trying to read over the little bard’s shoulder.

“It appears to be a simple love letter but when you read it closely something seems off.” She ran a hand through her copper hair, shaking the short strands as she thought. Glancing up she met the silver gaze of the captain. “I think it’s in code.”

Night had long fallen and still the bard was hunched over the copy of the scroll she had made, a pencil tapping against her mouth as she stared at her notes. She had resealed the original, far more skillfully than was comfortable for Aelred, and it now sat poking out of his pack accusingly. Suddenly, Telwen straightened with a triumphant cry.

“I’ve got it! It was a simple rail fence cipher,” she announced with a grin, oblivious to the blank stares of her companions.

“What’s a rail fence cipher? And where did you learn to break code?” asked Aelred bewilderedly.

Ignoring him, her copper head bent over the paper once more, her pencil flicking out to circle certain letters with neat precision. Sitting back she ran a finger along the highlighted letters, her mouth silently forming the words as she read. When she finished, her eyes slowly raised to meet her friends.

“We need to leave for Ost Guruth. Now.”

Chapter 4, part 2: They are Here

The road ran before them like a tattered brown ribbon, winding its way through the stark landscape before disappearing into the horizon. The very air shimmered, distorting everything about them. Rising bleakly out of the brown, dusty land was the ruins of a once great fortress. It’s crumbling walls leaned haphazardly where they even still stood. Battlements struggled to lift their sagging heads from the rubble that lay scattered about their bases. Giant stones were flung carelessly about as if in a child’s tantrum. Over all hung the merciless sun. Telwen eased back into the saddle feeling the hard leather ridge press into her lower back and closed her eyes.

Aelred rubbed a hand along his chin. “It looks deserted.”

The dwarf frowned up at what remained of the crenellations and snorted derisively, “That rubble wouldn’t hold out against a hobbit much less an orc war band.”

“Let me see that note again.”

Telwen reached inside her saddlebag and drew out the flimsy parchment. She watched Aelred’s brow furrow with concentration as he read. “‘They are coming. Hundred orcs. Two days.’”

Inside the ruins were little better. What had looked bad from a distance looked even worse as they drew near. Up close Telwen could see the rotten mortar flaking off; leaving the bare stones precariously perched on top one another like a circus balancing act. As they drew near to the top of the landing a scout suddenly materialized, bow held taut in his hand.

“Who goes…” the scout’s eyes widened in recognition and he relaxed his grip on his weapon, “ah it’s you all again. Welcome, Frederic will want to speak with you.”

Frederic’s eyes flicked over the page, his tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. “It’s authentic to be sure. That means…we only have until the day after tomorrow.”

Telwen leaned out over the parapet and peered out across the barren, windswept landscape. One of the wall guards, a young lad by the name of Arthur, stood at her elbow. His bow was slung casually over one shoulder and he hiked it up as he pointed out along the ridge.

“There miss, that’d be my guess if’n anyone was askin’. They’d come from over there.”

Arthur licked his lips nervously, his thin face drawn tight. “Do ya think they’re really comin’?”

Turning towards the young man, Telwen met his gaze. “One of your scouts thought this information was worth giving his life. Yes, I believe they are coming.” Squeezing a hand on his shoulder she smiled up at him. “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this. My friends and I have been in tougher spots and we’ve all made it through. We’ll do so again.”

A cry rang out along the battlements, echoing across weathered stone and shuddered through all who stood within the aged walls.

“Enemy sighted!”

The air was still, as if time itself held its breath in anticipation. A bead of sweat trickled down Tel’s neck, slipping uncomfortably between her shoulder blades. She rubbed a slick palm against her leg and glanced aside at Aelred who stood calmly observing the battlefield. Tel’s mouth twitched into a frown as a wave of annoyance pricked at her; the man could stare death in the face without flinching. She envied him that now as a wave of nausea swept through her. It was always the same before a battle, no matter how many she was in the same cold fear settled about her chest, crushing her heart in its painful grasp.

Telwen heard murmurs ripple through the guards as the drone of hundreds of feet marching swelled, the echoes doubling back upon itself until it was as if were some fell heartbeat pulsing through the fetid air. A dark line stained the horizon, and hovered there for a second as if caught along the rim of the world before breaking free to swarm over the hillside.

“They are here.”

Chapter 4, part 3: Surviving

The thin wisps of clouds were ringed with a reddish-pink and dark bruises lay heavy along the mountaintops in the distance. Telwen paused between two cots and quickly checked the blood-soaked bandages of the woman who lay trapped in a feverish delirium, her bright eyes darted about the makeshift infirmary while quiet whispers escaped her cracked lips. Before Telwen would have stopped and tried to listen but by now she’d learned not to; at best they were simply nonsense words and at worst they were the last confessions of the dying and she had heard enough of the dead’s secrets.

Moving on she dropped the dirty bandages into the pile to be burned and turned to face the walls. Two days they had withstood the siege. How much longer they could hold out was the question behind every one’s lips, though none had the courage to voice it. The crumbling defenses had too many gaps to cover and it had taken less than a day for the enemy to probe out their weaknesses. Three times they had managed to break through the walls and only the hastily constructed barricades and through great casualties had they been repulsed.

Telwen rubbed her temples, trying to soothe the headache that threatened to erupt. There was a slight tug at her sleeve and startled, her head whipped around to find the young guardsman, Arthur, at her elbow. The boy was a mess, a dirty, gray bandage was wound loosely about his head and black stitches crisscrossed his face, holding together the ragged flaps of flesh that was left after a sword had nearly taken his face off. She tried her best to smile at the lad though she wasn’t convinced that it was reassuring.

“They came again last night,” he spoke slowly, his voice thick as he worked to speak his swollen mouth.

A sigh worked its way past her lips and she nodded wearily. “Aye, a few hours ago.”

Arthur’s tongue darted out to lick at the notch along his lower lip. “Do you think they’ll be back soon?”

“My experience is that when you least expect it, that’s when they’ll come.” The little minstrel scowled up at the lightening sky. Foredawn, one of the best times to attack.

She glanced up as Aelred strode towards her, the care-worn lines etched into his weathered face. He hid the limp well, she thought, though she had stitched up the deep gash along his thigh herself just a few hours before. His silver gaze flicked to her briefly as he passed. “War council,” he growled and without slowing headed for the tower huddled against the mountain side. Giving an apologetic shrug to Arthur, she moved quickly to follow him.

Morning came and went; the meeting had decided little and she could see despair tugging at each downcast face. As the afternoon wore on into evening and still no further attack had been made an unease crept over Ost Guruth. Tel sat tucked into a crevice along the top of the wall staring out over the orcish camps, watching their fires winking in the distance. They were waiting for something and that made her nervous. Suddenly there was a flicker of movement. They were massing for an assault. Leaping down from her perch she heard the scouts call out a warning as she darted for the command tent. It was like an angry bees’ nest with couriers scurrying about every which way carrying messages back and forth from the front lines.

“Where do you want me?”

Aelred’s gaze remained fixed on the scene before him. “With the healers.”

Tel stepped angrily forward and tried to force him to look at her. “I can help.”

He met her steely eyes for an instant before his gaze shifted away. “You are. With the healers.”

She could hear the fighting clearly now by the front gates, the defenders desperately pelting the attackers with stones and debris from their own walls. Exasperated, she turned on her heel, storming off towards the infirmary. She had covered about half the distance when a cry went up from the eastern wall.

“The eastern wall has been breached!”

Spinning around, Tel shrugged her shield down onto her arm. Wrapping her palm about her hilt, her sword sang as she drew it from the sheath. Charging forward she met the defenders crouching behind the barricades.

“Ready archers,” she heard the cry as she waited tensely until they had streamed through the breach, “Fire!”

The first unfortunate orcs who had come rushing through the gap fell under the onslaught of arrows. The ones behind them tripped upon the bodies of their fallen comrades, pressed forward by those behind them as another wave of arrows flew towards them with deadly accuracy. Then they were too close for the archers and swords drawn the defenders rushed to meet them head on.

A great brute of an orc appeared in front of Tel, his axe swinging down towards her. It caught on the rim of her shield, tearing a chunk off the edge and spinning her around. Through some sort of sheer luck she managed to keep her footing and used the momentum to open a gash across the beast’s back, sending him sprawling. Flipping her sword about, she brought it slamming down into its neck. One of the defenders was grappling with a small wiry orc, its greasy hair stuck to its scalp. Darting forward she slide her blade along its neck, tearing open its throat.

There was a sharp pain in the back of her head and she pitched forward as lights exploded behind her eyes. Her mouth full of dirt, Tel struggled to lift herself up as another blow caught her in the side and sent her tumbling into a tree. The world was spinning and each breath sent fire through her chest. Her hair was in her face and she looked up through the tangled copper curtain to see a giant hammer arcing gently towards her head. She watched with a combination of wide-eyed fascination and horror as time seemed to slow, she could pick out each tiny chip in the metal, the worn leather along the shaft. Then the tip of a sword appeared in the orc’s chest, blood spurting from it as the hammer dropped within an inch of her face.

Crawling forward she pushed herself onto her feet and staggered to a tree for support. The orcs had retreated, for now at least. She could hear the fight raging on at the front gate and she hobbled towards it using her sword as a crutch. She rounded the corner just in time to see Celirdagor put two arrows through a giant of an orc as Aelred’s greatsword plunged into his chest up to the hilt. As the great brute fell the rest of the orcs scattered, lost without their leader. What defenders were able chased after them.

Nearing exhaustion, Tel turned to limp towards the infirmary when a soft moan caught her ear. Lying propped up against the wall was the young man Arthur, staring wide-eyed at the stump of his wrist where his hand ought to be.

“It’s gone,” he mumbled quietly, his voice high-pitched and reedy. Grimacing, Telwen lowered herself to the ground next to him and tore at her shirt, frowning at the dirty fabric as she began to wrap it as tightly as she could to staunch the bleeding. He lay his shaking, blood coated hand on her sleeve as his eyes tried to focus on her face. “Did, did we win?”

“There’s no winning something like this. There’s only surviving it.”

Chapter 5: The Deep Dark

“Down into the deep dark descend

the shadows that tug my soul rend…”

Telwen buried her face into Reckless’ shoulder, trying to hide from her companions the tears rolling down her face. He lowered his head, resting it on her shoulder in a horsey hug, his breath warm against her neck, stirring her hair. Running her hand along his dapple-gray coat, she half-hiccuped, half-sobbed. Pulling back she rubbed his silken nose gently and nodded to the dwarf Nomi, standing nearby. As Tel watched him lead Reckless away she felt Aelred’s hand fall on her shoulder.

“You’ll see him again soon, when this is over.”

A chill wind blew, sending the short strands of her hair swirling madly about her head. Silver tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over down along her freckled cheeks. Sniffing softly, she nodded, “I’m ready.”

The small fellowship turned towards the mountainside where stood a door leading to its bowels. Light itself seemed to fear the yawning pit; the darkness a tangible presence, reaching out to ensnare all those brave or foolish enough to venture close.

Aelred was the first to move and he strode nonchalantly inside, his olive cloak twisting in the breeze. Wrinkling her nose against the rank breath of the mountain, Tel warily entered into the mouth after him. She could see Aelred a ways ahead, surrounded by a pale aura of light from the torch he held. Beyond that small sphere of illumination there was only the darksome gloom.

Aelred held the torch aloft before addressing the company. “There is an encampment of dwarves just ahead. We are to meet there for supplies and information before daring to venture deeper in. Let’s go.”

“…as the last light gutters out

my heart brims with fear and doubt…”

“For the last time, there’s only enough for three of you, we can’t spare anymore!” The red-faced dwarf turned angrily away, muttering under his breath.

Aelred sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “We’ll have to split up. Someone must go ahead, if at least to inform them of our delay.”

Telwen was only half paying attention as she stared wide-eyed at the large goats, their slitted eyes sending shivers down her spine. She swallowed hard, “I volunteer to go on foot!”

Aelred glanced at her askance. “Well that’s one,” he replied dryly. “Who is to be the other?”

All spoke up, voicing their thoughts on the matter but in the end it was decided that Aelred and Telwen should follow the others on foot. After they said their farewells, the two stood in silence, watching as their friends were swallowed by darkness.

They were at the outer confines of the camp where the light from the torches terminated abruptly and there was naught beyond it save a chill emptiness. Aelred cocked his head to the side, a lock of raven hair falling boyishly across his forehead and offered up his hand.

“Ready?”

Telwen shivered lightly and with a deep breath placed her hand in his larger one. Giving her fingers a light squeeze, he stepped forward and vanished into the shroud. Steeling her heart, she lifted her head and followed him into the night.

__________________________________________________________

“…shades cling to ruins that from the dark loom

a civilization entombed

the relics of an ancient age

once a beacon, now a hollow gage…”

The torchlight sputtered in its fight against the encroaching blackness. When they passed close enough to the walls, elaborately carved statues, balustrades and columns emerged from the shadows. Often Tel would pause to study this ancient architecture until the light would pass too far away and she would be plunged into the icy darkness.

Having no sense of time, they walked until they tired. Finding a little room off of the main pathway they settled down for a rest at the base of a once great dwarven statue, which dominated the space. Like all things here, it was crafted of intricate stonework with runes and decorations spread throughout. Tattered banners hung from the ceiling, speaking of long-forgotten glory. Laying her hand upon it, it was almost as if she could feel the souls of those who crafted it so very long ago still lingering amongst the decaying remnants of their lives, lost forever in this eternal night. When she mentioned this to Aelred however, he simply laughed and suggested she sing something to lighten their moods.

__________________________________________________________

“…footfalls echo off the stillness

the silence closes in to press

upon my weary soul its dread

to my certain doom I’m led

darker than the blackest night

ebony shadows devour light…”

Of this Telwen was sure; the silence was driving her mad. Running her hands angrily through her fiery hair she sighed. Then, softly at first, and unsure she began to sing.

“The sun travels in its bent

across the cobalt firmament

from horizon’s azure spire

unto its fiery pyre…”

Growing in confidence, she altered her pitch, playing with the echoes of the place to create a harmony.

“…the stars in the heavens whirl

their dance that Time unfurls

their light in the darkness shines

a sign of hope defined…”

With a startled cry her song was cut short as a spear flew out of the gloom, slicing through her left arm. Telwen grasped the wound tightly, as the warm liquid spilled through her fingers. Shielding her from the direction of the attack, Aelred stared out beyond the torchlight, his body rigid and great sword in hand.

There was a terrifying shriek and a goblin leapt into the circle of light surrounding them. Launching itself at Aelred, it drew its dagger and aimed for the captain’s throat. The torch fell from his grasp and rolled away sending ghastly shadows to writhe along the walls. Tel moved to help him, wincing as her shield hung awkwardly on her wounded arm.

Before she had covered half the distance, a second scout emerged swinging his blade at her head. Bringing her shield up, she gritted her teeth at the waves of pain that rolled down her arm upon the impact. The shield clanged to the ground as her arm hung limply at her side. A wide grin split the beast’s sallow face. Twirling his blade he advanced on the little minstrel. Her mind racing, she managed to parry the first blow. But the second caught her off guard and nicked across her abdomen. She heard the dull thud as the goblin facing Aelred slumped to the ground. But he was yet too far away to lend aid.

The scout lunged, his sword aiming for her heart. Twisting out of the way the blade slid along her side, shredding the skin and muscles there. Gasping, she staggered back, her hand slack on the hilt of her weapon. A death rattle wheezing in her chest, she dropped to her knees before slipping limply to the cold stone.

Aelred swore loudly and charged the remaining brute. Dispatching it with a quick thrust of his sword he knelt beside Telwen.

Popping one eye open she looked up at him. “Are they both dead?”

Aelred’s head snapped up and he stammered, staring at her incredulously, “But, but, you…”

Sitting up with a grimace, Tel flashed him a bright smile. “Ah, I was only playing dead.” She probed her ribs gently with her fingers. ”Though that last blow really got me good.” Glancing up she saw Aelred scrub a hand over his face.

“Sometimes I think you just might be more trouble than you’re worth,” he teased smiling back at her. “Come on, let’s get you bandaged up.”

Drawing in a deep breath, they both froze. At first it sounded as if they heard a distant rock fall, then it grew, swelling into a cacophony that shook them unto their marrow. Hundreds of feet scrambling over stone. Caradhras’ own fell heartbeat rising out of the shadows.

Aelred flung the torch into the nearest crevasse, plunging them into darkness. Grasping her hand tightly, he tugged her along with him.

“Do not stop running!”

She tried to keep up with his pace, but her wounds were bleeding profusely and she ached with every breath. Her hand slipped out of his and she clung to the walls, struggling to continue moving.

“Telwen!”

“Keep going…I’m fine…right behind you.”

The goblins were closing in, the sound of their approach reverberating in the black. Consumed by it, she lost track of Aelred, focused solely on moving away from the encroaching army.

__________________________________________________________

“…the bones of those whom Mandos grasped

now in death their swords yet clasped

dire omens which portend

the ending of all who venture in…”

Tel stumbled blindly into the night. Falling more than she ran, the skin of her hands and knees were scraped and torn until they were bloody. Catching her foot on the edge of a rug she tumbled forward. Choking on the dust, she crawled until her hand brushed something hard. Telwen felt upwards along the object feeling ancient threadbare cloth yield to a hard porous material. When her hand grazed brittle hair she nearly screamed, and flinging herself backwards she scrambled away from the mummified remains.

Resting her back to a wall she slowly slid down. Letting her head fall into her hands, she finally voiced aloud what her heart had known to be the truth from the moment she set foot in this accursed place.

“I’m going to die in here.”

Pulling out her lute, she ran her hands lovingly over it. With practiced ease her fingers glided across the strings. The lyrics of an old ballad rang in her head and she lifted her voice, thin and reedy against the black, to quietly join the melody.

“Adrift in a black sea

though lost I yet believe

after the darkest of night

shines brighter morning’s light…”

__________________________________________________________

“…the gloom has stolen my memories

of sunlight and wind through trees

I fear this night may never end

but through eternity extend.”

The notes faded gradually into silence. Telwen quietly sat, lute in hand contemplating her song.

“Telwen.” Startled she nearly dropped her lute into the water. 

“Almost forgot that you were there.” She grinned sheepishly. “What did you think?”

Aelred paused thoughtfully, his dark hair shining in the moon’s pale light. The scar on his cheek had faded some in the past weeks and though he was still very thin, she was happy to note he had gained a little of the weight back.

“To be honest, I’m not fond of the ending. ‘I fear this night may never end’? It’s a tad dark, don’t you agree?” His eyes collided with hers and she felt the full weight of the pain held in them. “It did end after all, eventually.” He replied softly.

Tel smiled gently and covered his hand with hers, “Yes it did. But that is another tale entirely…”

Chapter 6: The Passage Under Stone

“the doom of all resounds

in the cries of Sauron’s hounds

from the dark within the deep

they call your soul to sleep…”

“Do not stop running!” Aelred reached out and grasped Tel’s hand tightly, tugging her along with him. The drumming of the goblins’ approach reverberated in the black, drowning out all other sounds, all thoughts. In the lull between the beats he could hear Telwen’s labored breathing, her small gasps of pain and his chest tightened painfully at the sounds. He cursed under his breath, she needed to be at a healer not running for her life through the dark.

Suddenly, Aelred felt her cold fingers slip from his. Panicked he stood still, turning slowly in a circle, straining his ears for any sound of her.

“Telwen!”

“Keep going…” The hoarse whisper had come from his left and he spun towards it. “…I’m fine…” Ignoring her he focused only on the sound of her voice. Hands outstretched before him he frantically groped in the black, his fingers scraping against the rough stone as he sought her. “…right behind you…”

“Telwen!” His voice broke with emotion, “Tel please if you can hear me…” When no response came, he pounded his fist against the wall in frustration, leaving a bloody mark on the rock’s face.

He could hear the goblins clearly now. They were almost upon them and he knew even if he could find her there was no way now that they could escape them.

Clenching his jaw, Aelred made up his mind. If he could not save them both then he would do his best to save Telwen. His mouth dry, he turned to face the encroaching horde. Drawing a steadying breath he wrapped a sweaty palm around the smooth leather of his hilt.

Time slowed to an aching halt. The pounding cadence of their approach matched his heart, beat for beat. He moved towards them, his boots crunching on the rocks beneath him, taking care to move as far away from the place where he last heard Tel’s voice as possible.

At last he could see their figures, shadowy against the black and he let out a terrifying war cry, his hands tightening their grip on his weapon.

“Come on now,” he whispered through clenched teeth, “take the bait.”

__________________________________________________________

“…my passage under stone

through twisting paths unknown,

surrounded by the dead

whose ancient course I tread…”

Telwen ripped open her pack and dug through it blindly. There was a chilling numbness along the entirety of her left arm now and she knew she needed to get her wounds bandaged up or she wouldn’t survive long. But in the darkness she couldn’t see what herbs she was using, going solely off the feel of the plant and its smell. Finally she thought she found winterbloom and some lavender and crushed it as best she could into a poultice. Rubbing the mixture into the soft bandage she wrapped her wounds tightly. Exhausted, she laid back and fell into a fitful sleep.

Fevered dreams haunted her. In them the goblins were chasing her again, their terrible drums hounding her every step. Then it turned, and the mummified remains of the dead had her cornered, reaching out their gnarled bony hands, their gauzy shrouds yet clinging to their skeletal forms. She could feel the musty breath of one, deathly cold against her cheek, when a light blazed, blinding her. Blinking she stared up at a dark form looming out of the pale golden shafts falling upon her. The shade’s rough, calloused hands brushed against her forehead, cooling her torrid face. Abruptly the phantom bent, exposing her to the full beam of light once more for an instant before raising itself again.

“Lavender I get but…basil. Why in the name of Eru did she use basil in the poultice?” Tel frowned, unsure if she should answer a wraith. Before she could make up her mind the apparition had grasped her good arm and flung her not too roughly over its shoulder. Her sore ribs sent waves of pain cascading through her. As she gasped she was vaguely aware of the spirit apologizing to her before darkness claimed her once more.

When she awoke again, the light was not so painful as before. Narrowing her eyes she peered blindly around the little room.

“Tell the little one that her friend is awake now.” Startled Tel struggled to sit up; she knew she’d heard that voice before. “Take it easy, your injuries were quite severe and you have not yet fully recovered.”

Finally, Telwen’s gaze alighted on the source of the quiet voice. It was a woman, of Bree-land descent if she placed her accent rightly. Curious, Tel unabashedly studied her further. Her hazel eyes were kind but had a steely glint to them that spoke of hardship endured. A deep auburn, her hair was pretty but it could be beautiful, Tel decided, if it didn’t look as if she hacked it short with her dagger. Worn, but well-kept, her armor bore the scars of many battles, carefully repaired. As Telwen observed her, she noticed a flush creep up the woman’s neck setting her cheeks ablaze. A shy smile hovered on her lips.

“Is-is there something you need?”

Though her heart was heavy, Telwen’s minstrel instincts took over and she beamed the bright smile she used during performances at her. “Telwen, a bard of Rohan. And you are…?”

The woman straightened in her chair, the plates of her armor clanging softly with the movement. “Caisil, a warrior of Bree.”

“Telwen! Oh, I am so glad to see you!” Dimly Tel was aware of the door flinging open and Rose flying towards her. “Are you alright? How are you feeling? Have you met Caisil, she saved you. Are you hungry? Would you like some tea? I’ll make you some tea…”

Recovering from the onslaught, Tel laughed lightly. “Tea would be lovely; later. First I would like to enjoy sitting and talking with another person again. Aelred is not one for conversation as you know…” Telwen tensed as Rose’s smile faltered at the mention of their captain. A cold fist settled its grip around her heart and swallowing hard, she tried to keep her tone light, “Where is he by the way? I’m quite hurt that he has yet to see me…”

Tears were slipping from the corners of Rose’s eyes to fall quietly along her round cheeks. “Oh Tel, he-he…we…haven’t f-found him yet…Celírdagor and Lodi are still out looking for him, they’ll find him, they have to…” Tel felt as if she were drowning, gasping she struggled to stand up, needing to move away, to find him sitting quietly outside her door with Celírdagor or sparring with Lodi, she didn’t care what he was doing as long as he was there.

“No. No! He was in front of me, he was. If I got out he did, he had to…” Her vision was swimming and she numbly felt Rose and Caisil holding her back, trying to get her to lie back down. Sobbing she collapsed to the floor, feeling her mind slipping back into the blackness.

“…the call has sounded now

to baleful Fate’s will; bow

against the dark we stand

with none to give command…”

Caisil was standing before them. Dressed in her full armor she was fearsome to behold, her eyes hard behind the slits of her helm. Lodi and Celírdagor had found where Aelred was possibly being held and they had immediately mobilized. It had not yet been two full weeks since her fever had broken but Telwen had desperately fought to accompany the rescue party. She must have been convincing enough or, she thought grimly, pathetic enough that they had grudgingly relented. Caisil, Celírdagor and Lodi had spent days pouring over maps and scout reports planning an assault until Telwen’s nerves could not stand anymore. It was almost a relief that they now stood on the fringes of the dwarven encampment readying to launch the attempt. Caisil was going over the last minute details and Telwen tried hard to listen but her shield arm already ached and her mind kept returning to the guilt she felt over Aelred’s capture.

The goblins were entrenched not too far from the dwarven foothold and they reached the outskirts quickly. Celírdagor and Rose snuck forward, blending seamlessly into gray stone and shadow. After they had dispatched the guards the rest snuck through. The party proceeded as such through the camp, Celírdagor and Rose taking point and soundlessly subduing all who drew near enough to jeopardize their secrecy while the rest followed, carefully oiled armor and weapons silent.

They made it to the room which held their captain with no incidents and all breathed a sigh of relief. There were only two guards and Celírdagor swiftly felled the first while Caisil closed in and made short work of the second with a beautifully executed flurry; her blade dancing in the half-light. Before Caisil’s opponent had even hit the ground Tel was already beside Aelred, her arms wound tightly arout his neck. Once Rose had removed his bonds, Caisil laid her shield down and they gently placed Aelred upon it, securing him to the shield and turning it into a sort of makeshift sled.

This time Caisil went ahead with Celírdagor while Rose and Telwen dragged the sled and Lodi took the rear. It was slow and tedious work, and every time the shield scraped against the rough stone floor Tel’s heart would race and she would glance nervously about peering through the blackness for any sign of some sentry alerted by the noise. They had almost reached the entrance when Tel heard Lodi whistle. It was the signal that they’d been spotted. Tucking the reins of the sled under her arm she hastily reached for the acorn whistle Caisil had given each of them. After blowing three quick notes she dropped it and began to run, tossing apologies to Aelred over her shoulder. Out of the black Caisil flew towards them.

“I heard your call, you go on ahead with Celírdagor, Lodi and I will protect the rear as we go. Hurry!” Without stopping she sprinted past them, her sword drawn. Her breathing ragged, Tel could feel her wounds reopening, the blood trickling down her side as she ran.

At one point the fellowship thought they had lost their pursuers in the maze of tunnels but as soon as they’d stopped to rest an arrow had skittered along the ground, its metal tip sending sparks scattering as it struck the stone around them.

The dwarven outpost loomed before them and a cry went up amongst the guards who came flooding out to assist them. At the sight of their numbers the few pursuers left finally gave up the chase. Tel gave a small cheer before she collapsed to the ground giddy with relief. Even Caisil’s breathing was a touch ragged as she removed her helm and grinned.

A last parting shout from one of the goblins caused them all to turn and watch in horror as a single arrow appeared out of the black. Caisil did not make a sound as it sliced through her flesh, tearing it asunder. Telwen reached out to her as she fell slowly to her knees, her gaze fixed unseeing on the horizon before slipping lifeless to the cold stone.

__________________________________________________________

“…into the pit, hope fell

at the echoes of Death’s knell

darkness took light’s stead

severing Fate’s fragile thread…”

The dwarves there regarded the quiet warrior as one of their own and provided a sepulcher worthy of her. Telwen felt tears welling in her eyes, falling in silver traces along her cheeks as she laid a hand on the cool stone, tracing the dwarven runes upon its surface. Nearly the entire camp had gathered to pay their respects and all now looked to her to help them through it. Stepping back she drew in an unsteady breath, trying vainly to slip into her professional facade. But this loss was too raw, too personal and she felt the tears choke her throat again.

“It’s your grief too, let it out.” She knew who the raspy whisper belonged to without needing to turn around. Aelred was propped up against a nearby rock, insisting he come grieve for the hero who had helped to save his life. Tel smiled weakly at him before turning a watery gaze on the rest of the crowd. Rose in particular had taken it hard and was leaning on Lodi who tried to maintain his usual air of stoicism even as the tears ran along the weathered crevasses of his face. Celírdagor was kneeling near the halfling, whispering to her, every now and again brushing a hand along his eyes.

Stepping forward, Tel raised her voice above the murmur of the crowd.

“In only a few short weeks, I feel as though I’ve known Caisil my entire life. Her bravery, heroism and kindness are unmatched.” Trying to keep her voice clear and steady, as she spoke Tel ran through all the dirges she knew yet again, discarding them all, finally settling on the humble rhyme she had composed. “I could never hope to give her justice with my meager words but I hope this simple rhyme will serve as a fitting tribute.” Slipping her hands along her lute, she let her fingers draw out the somber melody.

“solemn rings the dreadful knell

to honor one who lately fell

to this funeral charnel come

bear this friend and sister home

the fair and noble deeds extol

when Mandos claimed thy fated soul

in His presence thy soul shall see

what was veiled in mystery

now dissolved, thy mortal ties

lead thee to thy place on high”

__________________________________________________________

“…adrift in a black sea

though lost I yet believe

after the darkest of night

shines brighter morning’s light”

Tel listened as the last echoes of her voice faded into the shadows. Tossing a look over her shoulder she gazed up again in awe of the enormous gateway that they said would lead them into Rhovanion. Any place was better than this black pit, she decided bitterly. Standing, she gave one last look into Moria, thinking of all they had lost here. A single tear wound its path along her cheek.

“Good bye Caisil.”

Chapter 7: Beneath Golden Boughs

“From under mountain have I come

through dark of night into day

dirges for friends lost I have sung

who in shadows’ embrace will remain…”

It was night, but even the pale silver of the moon hurt when she turned her gaze to it; igniting burning pinpricks of light in her eyes. Telwen blinked rapidly, her light-starved eyes watering. Now again under the open sky she felt small and insignificant and stumbled about aimlessly, lost without the craggy passageways that had been her home for what felt like an eternity.

“Lass, some help please.” Lodi’s strained breathing finally reached her numb ears. Moving aside she helped as best she could, as he and Celírdagor half-carried Aelred out from the mountain’s dark mouth.

Rose was still standing on the threshold, peering into the black. As Tel walked over she noticed the halfling turning something over in her hands. Without turning to her the little hobbit uncurled her fingers to reveal a small acorn which had been deftly whittled into whistle.

“Caisil gave me this,” her voice was deceptively flat and devoid of emotion. Telwen felt tears welling in her eyes at the thought of the quiet guardian with the shy smile who had aided them there in the black, when all hope was lost. Brushing away the little rivulets flowing down her cheeks she tried to think of another dirge but she had sang too many of late and her tongue failed her. Tel placed her hand on Rose’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze. The two stood like that in silent mourning for their friend until the others called them to help make camp.

“…the drumming in the chasm’s deeps

that tore my heart with its fell song

now only haunts my fevered sleep

waking nightmares that linger on…”

The goblins had caught her. She could feel their bony fingers digging into her arms as she flailed helplessly. Her fingers tore at the rough cloth of their armor, grasped handfuls of rocky soil to fling into their eyes and still they held on. Tel tried to cry out but they kept shaking her.

“Telwen…Telwen!”

With a startled gasp, her eyes flew open. Her breathing was ragged as her gaze darted about, taking in the night sky, the remains of the fire, and finally her friends standing over her, their faces contorted with worry. Celírdagor was murmuring something soothing in elvish while Rose ran around nervously gathering ingredients to make tea. Still shaken by the vivid dream her gaze collided with Lodi’s.

“You all right now lass? Gave us quite a scare.” Tel nodded weakly.

“Sorry, I…sorry.” Rose pressed a cup of hot tea into her hand and she smiled in thanks. Wrapping her chilled fingers around the little dented tin cup she let its calming heat seep into her.

Lodi smiled gently, his craggy face wrinkling. “No need for apologies little lass,” he rumbled in a deep voice, “you and the captain went through quite a bit down there in the black, it’s only natural you would dream about it.” He drew the blanket back around her shoulders, “Now then get some rest. Have to go find those long ears in the morning.”

Telwen nodded and obediently closed her eyes, though sleep evaded her.

“…as dawn breaks softly over me

I hear again the strains of birds,

wind dances through golden trees

and from shades’ grasp my soul is stirred…”

Tel sat cradled in the roots of an ancient tree, watching as the first rays of light stretched their golden fingers over the Dimrill Dale and languidly dipped into the Mirrormere. As a songbird danced by, joyously singing to the dawn, her thoughts turned back to a similar day when she had lifted her voice to join in, reveling in the promise of a new day. Where would I be now, had I not answered that notice in Evendim? Had I not undertaken this journey? Disquieted, she shivered and drew the course blanket more tightly around her. The pungent odor of goat rose thickly from the rough cloth as it scratched against her cheek. The Dale was beautiful and tranquil, but she knew now how deceptive that beauty was, and what horrors it could disguise. After all, she had thought the dark halls of the dwarves beautiful at first.

“I miss your singing.” The voice was quiet and hoarse, barely louder than a whisper. She glanced slightly over her shoulder to where Aelred stood, pale and sweating. He leaned weakly against the tree behind her, his ragged breathing loud in the stillness of the early morning.

“You should be resting.” It came out harsher than she meant it too, and she turned her head away lest he should see her tears. “Go back and rest, you need it.”

He ignored her and stepped forward slowly, his footsteps whispering across the soft green grass.

“Once upon a time, you’d have been far from here by now, atop the prettiest ridge you could find. You’d be singing your heart out, capturing the beauty you saw with words and melody. No one can express beauty as you, no one can lift a sorrowful heart with a smile, a song.” His gray eyes clouded over as he paused to catch his breath. His voice dropped even lower, its gravelly tone grating like salt in a wound. “We need that hope now.”

Tel choked on the sob that rose in her throat. “Hope is nothing more than an illusion.” She whispered bitterly.

“Perhaps, but regardless, it is a necessary one.” She felt his arm wind its way about her shoulders and draw her against him. His voice whispered quietly, like a balm across her soul. “Besides, I don’t believe you really think that.”

“…the tawny light of elven woods

in stark contrast to the black abyss

and all which I therein withstood

fades away in hope filled bliss…”

Telwen caught herself smiling again, the muscles in her face twinging from disuse. The laughter and gaiety of the elves here was infectious and she felt her heart lighten merely from their presence. Bright golden light filtered lazily through the leaves of the silver trees, dappling the soft earth. She had removed her shoes and was dancing barefoot through the forest, laughing as her toes sunk deep into the warm dirt. Golden Mallorn leaves were entangled in her fiery hair and she twirled happily, her skirts swirling madly about her legs. Never had she thought she would be so delighted to be wearing a dress again! Tel paused to run her fingers against the cool silk and was thankful once more that she had brought it along, even though Aelred had teased her frivolousness relentlessly.

“It matches your eyes.”

Telwen spun around, her cheeks as red as her hair. Aelred stood, his arms crossed, leaning his hip casually against a tree. A smile played at the corners of his mouth and his silver eyes gleamed with unexpressed laughter.

“I-I was just…”

Rose chose that time to appear out of thin air at Aelred’s elbow grinning ear to ear.

“Could you maybe teach me some of those steps?”

Before she could respond, Lodi and Celírdagor stepped out from behind a tree.

“Well lass, we’ve had the dance portion, now how about some music?” Underneath his bushy eyebrows, Lodi’s eyes twinkled merrily.

“I believe you will require this.” Celírdagor held her lute outstretched towards her, smiling gently.

Quietly Telwen took it and ran her hands lovingly along its sanded wood. Closing her eyes she let her hands dance lightly across the strings feeling the music stirring within her flowing out from it. As she lifted her voice, she heard the lighthearted notes of Rose’s little acorn whistle join in…

“…my embattled heart finds peace

beneath the sway of golden boughs

restful solace for now at least

the Light no longer caught in shroud”

The wind caught the last notes and carried them away across the Anduin and for the first time since she had passed under stone Tel felt at peace.

The little fellowship conversed softly, their quiet words bubbling through the cool evening air like a brook running over rocks. Every now and again laughter would erupt, echoing off the trees and brightening every heart who heard it.

Chapter 8: The Calm Before the Storm

A warm breeze danced lightly across the Anduin. It caught up the brightly colored banners, twisting them between its fingers before flinging them carelessly at the silver moon which hung, bright and full, over the lawn.  Beautifully wrought torches lined the area, casting a cheerful glow about those who had gathered there. At the far end a stage had been erected for the minstrels to perform on and decorated with delicate, luminescent flowers. Across to the other side many tables sat, fully laden with various foods and wines. Among it all, elves floated gracefully, some eating, some conversing quietly in small groups, but it was those who were dancing that held Telwen’s eye. Though she had been studying each afternoon under the tutelage of an elven bard by the name of Glírion, she had not found the nerve to ask to perform and so instead now sat watching with wide-eyed appreciation as the dancers wove intricate patterns to the ethereal music. Growing up in a family of traveling bards, Telwen had lived and breathed music, dancing, and storytelling since she could first talk and yet she wished she possessed even a fragment of the talent or grace the elves naturally had. Closing her eyes, Tel let a smile ease across her face as the melody washed over her in soft, soothing waves.

“I was unaware that a person could dance while seated.” Tel’s eyes flew open, meeting Aelred’s bemused silver stare. A flush spread across her cheeks, setting them aflame until they rivaled her fiery hair.

She returned her gaze to the dancers wistfully, “They are just so beautiful.”

His eyes followed hers and he shrugged. “You dance as well as they.” Aelred chuckled as Telwen stared at him aghast. “In my opinion at least and I am certain I am not alone there. You should join them, you’ll have no trouble finding a partner.” Impulsively Tel leapt to her feet and held out her hand in offering.

“Dance with me?” Her pewter gaze held his pleadingly while Aelred shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“You know that I cannot dance,” he blurted out finally, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Telwen smiled disarmingly and wiggled her fingers entreatingly.

“Nonsense! Anyone can dance.” A teasing tone slid into her voice, “Besides, everyone looks ungainly when placed beside an elf.”

A corner of Aelred’s mouth lifted mischievously, “Ah hah! So that is the real reason you asked me to dance with you. You believe that with me as a partner you will look more graceful by comparison.”

Telwen laughed lightly, “You found me out! And here I thought I’d been so clever too.” She pouted prettily and raised her hand slightly. “I won’t have to resort to begging, will I?”

Aelred sighed resignedly and grabbing hold of her hand he led Tel out into the dance. After a few awkward minutes of swaying, and a couple of mumbled apologies for the bruises on Telwen’s much smaller feet, she stopped him laughing softly.

“No, no, no. You do not just move around, you have to feel the music, let it guide you. Close your eyes.”

“I’m not…”

“Close your eyes.” Telwen’s tone brooked no objections and reluctantly Aelred obeyed. Tel placed the palm of her hand over his heart, tapping gently along to the music. “Feel the rhythm in here, then let your feet follow.”

After a few moments Telwen pressed her hand against his chest lightly, forcing him to move. Unsure at first, the normally confident captain’s steps were hesitant but quickly grew bolder as the music flowed through him. As the last notes faded on the cool night air, he opened his eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth which Telwen answered with a smile of her own.

“Pardon me, Miss Telwen?” A polite tap upon her shoulder accompanied the quiet query. Telwen turned to find her mentor of the past few weeks, an elven bard by the name Glírion, standing behind her. Smiling, Glírion bowed gracefully, his hair shining like spun gold in the starlight. “I was wondering if perhaps you would grace us with a song?”

Telwen’s eyes widened and she shook her head while Aelred nodded, “Of course she would!” Pressing his hand into the small of her back he propelled her forward.

Out of the corner of her mouth she hissed, “Is this payback?”

Tel bristled as she heard a deep chuckle rumble behind her. “Of a sort.”

Glírion smiled as he handed her his intricately carved harp to use. Accepting it with a slight bow, Telwen self-consciously climbed the few short steps onto the platform. As she looked out across the audience, comprised mainly of Elven-kind, her stomach roiled fiercely and she swallowed hard to keep her pounding heart down where it belonged. Bowing to the waiting gathering before her she closed her eyes and let go; letting her fingers dance of their own accord across the strings.

“From beside cerulean waves

their banks adorned with iris and sage

we plucked soft petals sparkling with dew.

though then the clouds loomed o’er head

we paid no heed, but followed Fate’s thread

wherever the fickle wind blew

To forests clad in autumn hue

where the red-capped ginger grew

one I kept and tucked away.

the sky grew dark, it smelled of rain

and lightning ran in heaven’s veins

yet from our path we would not stray

Upon the threshold of the day

we stood facing the mount, stark and gray

I touched then the wolfsbane and knew

storm-clouds gathered close behind

our hope and courage maligned

as we defy the night anew

across the river running we pursue

yet through it all I think of you

and touch the snowdrop to my heart

though we venture beyond the pale

‘gainst the shadows we shall prevail

from Hope, Victory imparted”

Telwen stood facing the Anduin, the breeze had died and now a heavy stillness hung over the banks. Faint strains of music drifted down from the party behind her. There was a soft whisper of footsteps along the grass as Aelred came up alongside her. They stood for a time, in silence, staring out across the waters to the far shores beyond.

“Are you ready for this?”

Telwen sighed and turned to him, her stormy eyes matching the roiling waves before them and answered his question with one of her own.

“Do we have a choice?”

In the silence that followed, lay her answer.

Chapter 9: An Unwanted Letter

Telwen stood on the banks of the Anduin, staring out across its wide expanse to the far shore, straining to catch a glimpse of the golden spires which she knew would be lit by the morning’s sun into liquid golden fire. The wind tousled the short strands of her hair and she absentmindedly tucked a few errant copper locks behind her ear. A soft crunch of boots on sand sounded behind her and she turned in surprise to find, not an elf, but a man, his wheat-colored hair blowing lightly in the breeze.

“Miss? Are you Telwen of the Mark by any chance?”

Tel turned a brilliant smile on the man, her gaze falling immediately to the worn letter held in his hands. “I am at that.” Stretching out a pale hand, she gestured to the letter. “I take it that is for me?”

“It is indeed ma’m.”

Thanking the man, the little minstrel waited until he had left before turning the travel-worn envelope over in her hands. Her name was scrawled in bold strokes across its back and her heart skipped a beat. She recognized that handwriting.

“It couldn’t be…” she murmured, her breath smoking in the chill of the morning air. Running a finger beneath the seal, she broke it hurriedly and unfolded the creased parchment. A small silver pin, twisted artfully into the shape of small wolf, fell out into her palm. Her fingers closed around it, instinctively hiding the small device from prying eyes. Tucking it away in a small pouch along her belt, Tel’s pewter gaze returned to the page. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she scanned its contents.
Telwen, daughter of Farmon of the Mark

It’s been awhile, Red Wolf, and I am loathe to drag you back into this life which you never wanted but circumstances beyond both of our control demand that I write you. The General has need of your skill once more and we cannot hope to do this without your talents. I pray you receive this in time. Meet at the usual spot.

I’ll be waiting.

Magpie

When she had finished, she pressed the letter to her chest. Over her shoulder, she watched as her little fellowship began to break camp, their good-natured banter carried by the wind to her. Aelred turned then, the smile slipping from his face as the first silver tear traced its path along her freckled cheek.

“How will I tell them?”

Her only response was the quiet laughter of the waves as they danced upon the shore.

Chapter 10: Secrets of a Bard

“There is something about me that you all should know.” Not the best way to start a conversation perhaps, but when she had left this part of her life behind she had sworn to be honest with herself and with others. No more hiding her true intentions behind a carefully crafted veil, no more saying just the right thing a person wanted to hear. Her fingers clenched into a fist, crumpling Magpie’s letter as she gazed from face to face. Her companions, her friends. Celirdagor sat, his youthful, unlined face as expressionless as always. Lodi’s bushy eyebrows were knitted tightly together as he chewed on the stem of his pipe. Poor Rose sat, trying to look calm as her fingers worked furiously, crumbling a muffin into her lap. And Aelred, she could not bring herself to even meet his silver gaze. What would he think of her now?

“Well lass?” Lodi’s gravelly voice broke into her thoughts, dragging her back to the present.

“You know that my family are traveling bards, we’ve wandered all throughout our home in the Mark and even as far as the lands of Dale to the north. But I have not been completely forthright about how I came from there to Evendim where we met.” The damning letter twisted in her grip, the harsh crinkling of the vellum somehow soothing. “When I was eighteen, my mother fell dreadfully ill. Against her wishes, we turned our caravan around and made for Snowbourne where there was a renowned healer. While she recovered, we played each night at the local taverns. One night, after the show, a man approached me and extended an opportunity. I knew him then only as Magpie. Without my parents’ consent, I accepted. For the next nine years I worked for an organization known as the Durchol.”

“Who are-” Rose began, her round face thoughtful.

“Band of bloody outlaws!” Aelred roared suddenly as he leapt to his feet, his silver gaze darkened with anger. “Vigilantes who take justice into their own hands instead of letting the guard handle it properly.” A muscle in his jaw jumped as he stared the little minstrel down. “That letter, it’s from him isn’t it? From that Magpie. Whatever he wants you aren’t going to do it.” Telwen’s tongue darted out to whet her dry lips and Aelred scrubbed a hand over his face. “You aren’t, are you?” he whispered hoarsely.

“He wouldn’t have written if it wasn’t important,” she replied lamely. Without a word, Aelred spun angrily on his heel and stormed away. Tel watched him leave, tears welling in her eyes.

___________________________________________________________

Telwen sniffled as she jammed the last of her clothes into the saddle bag. “Damn it all,” she muttered as she dragged the back of her hand across her wet eyes.

“I’m coming too.”

Her heart hiccupped at the quiet words and her mind raced as she worked the leather throngs into tight knots. “You are needed here.”

“So are you but that isn’t stopping you,” she heard Aelred sigh, “I’m sorry that was unfair.”

“He would only have written me if was important.”

“You said that already…”

Tel held up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish.” She perched lightly on a fallen log and tucked an errant strand of copper hair behind her ear. “Magpie and I, we had one that got away. He was a terrible person. Kidnapped children to sell as slaves to the Haradrim” her hands balled into fists in her lap, “but no matter what we tried, we could never seem to get to him.” Her pewter gaze met Aelred’s, pleading him to understand. “This must be why he wrote, we can finally make him pay for all the suffering he has caused.”

“Why not tip off the guard instead, let them handle it.”

Telwen rose and paced in agitation. “He has friends in the guard. No, sometimes the law fails and someone has to pick up the slack, to make things right.” She walked over to him and rested her hand against his chest. “Do you think I want to go?” she whispered, “there’s a reason I left in the first place. I spent all those years being whoever and whatever I needed to be to do the job. It got so that I never thought about how I felt but what to feel to make the other person at ease, to make them trust me. I lost myself. You helped me remember who I am and I am terrified to go back.”

“But you have to.” Tel nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. Aelred’s thumb brushed along her face, wiping it away. “Just promise me that you won’t forget us. That you won’t forget who you are and what you mean to all of us. To me.” He leaned in and for an instant she thought he would kiss her but instead he leaned his forehead gently against hers. “Come back safe. I’ll be waiting.” He released her suddenly then and strode off, calling out orders to break camp.

She let the tears fall freely as she slipped her foot in Reckless’ stirrup and swung up into the saddle. Glancing over her shoulder she whispered softly to the wind, “I promise,” before nudging Reckless onward.