Anariel of Erudin: The Age of Revolution | Lord of the Rings

11. The Raven

I crossed the river where the water was the shallowest, using the floating, moss-covered fragments of a partially submerged bridge like stepping-stones. The last stone was more unstable than the others. It started to wobble when I put my weight on it, but I was able to get to land safely. From there, I followed the muddy path that snaked around the trees, trees I assumed to be sleeping like all the others in the wood, but I was mistaken.

One of the trees caught my eye. Its body was severely emaciated, like something was sucking the life from it. All its bark was sloughing off the trunk in sheets. When I touched my hand to the wood, a foul, gooey substance coated my fingers, making them stick together.

What is happening? I wondered as I moved on to another tree, which had already shed all its bark and cast it to the ground, forming a ring of rotting wood that was crawling with maggots.

Again, I reached for the tree. The surrounding wood collapsed at my touch, sucking my entire arm into a dark cavern within the trunk, where beetles and woodworms gnawed on the heartwood and spiders spun fine silk webs that clung to my arm like a warm glove. I didn't mind the beetles or even the spiders, but once I heard the hissing, I panicked and ripped my arm out of the hole as fast as I could, which caused me to stumble backwards and fall to the ground.

I sat, paralyzed, as a black snake, as long as I was tall, slithered out of the hole and started coming at me.

Out of fear, I closed my eyes. I could hear the snake hissing in my ear. I could feel its body wrapping around my neck, smooth as a leather belt, tying itself tighter and tighter around me with every breath I took.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

But when I opened my eyes, I saw nothing. The black snake was gone, and the only sound I heard was the dry, grating caw of a lone raven. Upon a branch it sat, staring down at me with its black eyes, steadily calling, "Kraa, kraa, kraa, kraa." Always like that, in groups of four.

"Never look a raven in the eye for too long," my nursemaid used to say. "It might steal your soul and fly far, far away."

And yet, despite her warning, I couldn't stop staring. Every time I glanced over my shoulder, I saw it perched upon another tree branch, calling, "Kraa, kraa, kraa, kraa."

Then I turned around one minute, and it was gone. Mysteriously, the raven vanished once I'd neared the end of the path, and now only the gatehouse stood before me.

A cold wind stole my breath as I passed through the open gates and entered the inner bailey, a barren courtyard where the soil had turned grey and the air was thick like fog. A great battle had occurred within these walls: a battle between man and nature, and neither came out the victor.

"This place is a ruin," I said, "and even the air feels sick. Who would dwell in such a place?"

The raven answered my question from the window of the nearest tower. "Kraa, kraa, kraa, kraa," it called as it tapped its clawed foot against the sill.

Just below it hung the purple banner of Mirkwood City, which also bore a raven. The raven, I remembered, was the crest of Lord Thalis's house, just as the white stag was that of my house.

"Mirkwood," I said, remembering Lord Aemon's words, "the city of lies and shadows, and Lord Thalis is the biggest lie of them all, a conjurer of evil, a worshiper of the Dark Lord ... It is no coincidence."

I stepped forward then, and as soon as my foot touched the ground, the earth opened up beneath me and pulled me down into the dark abyss. Screaming, I reached my hand out to grab something. My fingers tangled with the deep, thick roots of a tree. Gripping the root tightly, I swung my free hand up to grab another root and secure myself.