Sword and Arrow

Chapter 25

The woods were lovely, dark, and deep, a perfect place to camp for a night. The Fellowship pulled their boats onto the shore, Beruthiel helping Legolas with their own. The hobbits were sent ahead with supplies to make camp and gather firewood. Gimli went with them to supervise.

Beruthiel staggered in the water, tripping over a large root that poked out of the river floor. She fell forward before catching herself, sending up large waves around her. She and Legolas had the task of bringing the assorted weapons that the Fellowship carried to the shore. She held Mellann and Boromir's sword, Legolas took their bows.

"Great," Beruthiel muttered. "Now my cloak is all wet."

"At least you have like four other cloaks," Legolas said, inspecting the dark, wet half of his own cloak with distaste. "You won't have to sleep with a wet cloak."

"It's not that I'm worried about," she replied, leaning the two swords against a tree. She stretched, bending back as far as she could go. Spending all this time in a boat cramped all her muscles. "I can't exactly camouflage myself if half of my cloak is darker than the other half, can I?"

"True," Legolas admitted. "But it is unavoidable."

"Unfortunately," Beruthiel said with a sigh.

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Beruthiel took first watch that night, as she did on most nights. She climbed up to a perch high in the branches of a beech tree, crouching in the crook of the branch and the trunk with her bow nearby and her quiver wedged between the trunk and another branch. She wore her standard Ranger cloak, mottled in shades of green, brown, and grey with irregular vertical slashes of darker color. Having mastered the art of sitting perfectly still, she blended in with the tree so well that even Legolas had to look twice to see her.

The leaves rustled in the wind and beyond the edges of the forest, Beruthiel could hear the river water lapping at their moored boats and rushing down to the land of steep cliffs that lay to the south. They will pass that way tomorrow.

Then she heard something else. Waves that didn't sound like natural waves should, waves that formed without a breeze to stir them. Beruthiel didn't exactly stiffen; anyone watching would have seen her if she had, but her eyes flicked in the direction of the sound. Nothing. The dense leaves of the beech tree obscured her vision. She had not expected an attack by the river. Foolish of her.

Then again, if this was an attack, then it was not by orcs; there was far too less sound for that. Not even a human could move this softly, stir only this small amount of water unless they were a trained Ranger, and they would not creep in to attack unless they thought that the Fellowship were orcs.

An elf, then? Beruthiel's blood ran cold at the thought of an elf following them. Surely Faerthurin couldn't have followed them all this way?

Now she had to check, regardless of the fact that the stalker might see her. She carefully swung down from the tree, bow in one hand and quiver in the other, her cloak trailing behind her as she followed the pattern of the light. She landed and saw a bald head peer from behind a floating tree branch. It had a greenish tinge to it. What was it?

Her breath catching in her throat, Beruthiel hurried to the corner of the clearing where Aragorn and Boromir were sleeping. They had taken to sharing a bedroll, which Beruthiel thought was rather sweet. She shook Aragorn by the shoulder until he woke, completely alert and awake from the first second.