The IRE of Winter

CHAPTER 10: HOMECOMING

One by one the woodland elves thudded to the forest floor, dried leaves swooshed beneath them; all clothed in dark brown and olive green uniforms, fair and tall beings. The old trees grew close to each other with many large boughs that roofed the ground with dark green and yellow leaves; the tree-trunks seemed to have been twisted badly, some bent, some slanting and many tangled high and mighty. We came to a halt as our unexpected hosts examined us. Legolas spoke in his language and I saw the mixed expressions on his face.

'Well, look who's surprised?' Gimli chuckled. 'I bet you didn't inform your father about your homecoming.'

'There was no need.' Legolas said. He spoke in his language and the guards followed him. We all did. We have traveled far and we're finally here, in Mirkwood, the realms of the woodland elves. The air was heavy; the forest felt queer and the trees seemed to have watchful eyes. A feeling so familiar that the tales of the Old Willow back in the Old Forest came flashing in my mind. The trunks were not of willows or ash or elms but they looked as queer as the trees back in the West; dark and charred, some grey and some dying. Dark green moss grew on the oldest of tree,  the roots were large and tangled. Old it is, I thought, and suddenly a shudder creeping at my back.

'This forest is too old,' I gasped as I scuttled behind Aramis. 'Too old that I feel scared of what lurks within.'

'Do not be afraid, Safirah. Those creatures you fear were long gone. But make no wrong impression, this was called The Greenwood once, for the forest was old but green and the singing of the Silvan elves could be heard miles and miles away,' Aramis reassured with a slow smile. Some trees were grayer than the ash in the belts of Crickhollow. Trees I've never seen before. The air smelled of leaves and fresh dirt. It smelled home, I thought. And then I began pondering about going home again.

Aramis glanced, wearing a smile that says the journey is finally over. Not too long, we were out of the forest overlooking a narrow stone bridge that connects the forest and the mouth of a great cavern. A noisy river ran below gleaming silver in the beams of the sun. The giant door was wide open, guards stood on both sides. Elves have distinct art, curves, arches and carvings all inspired by nature. It was early morning and the beauty of the carven wood was beyond imagining.

My tiredness vanished mysteriously, my soreness was replaced with excitement as we entered the underground fortress. I heard many sweet voices singing at the distance mixed with the sound of fast-falling streams, water fell like sparkling threads through the rifts on the stone ceiling and the massive hall was breathtakingly beautiful. Pillars made of carven stones, living stones!

I could hardly believe my eyes, it was a place like no other. We passed by the narrow bridge, some pillars had giant roots circling around. Long and narrow stone and wooden bridges connected the halls  like a huge system beneath the surface, some were actual roots of giant trees.

The walls were earth and massive rocks sculpted by nature. A river ran quietly below as the sunlight escaped in beams of light reaching the earth.