Silmarilion Shorts

Moving Out

Dairon stealthily moves about the forest.

"We should be nearing Ossiriand soon, I have never been there." He stops at the crest of a hill and looks over the vast forest ahead.

"Youngsters, are you armed?" He asks quietly.

"Only with a small dagger each." He shakes his head at us.

"That will not be enough. We must stop either by Lindon or Belegost. Fangorn, what is your choice? Shall we visit the elves or the dwarves?"

The small ent lowers his head. "Guren naranin Eldalië innasaned manc boe."

"Ah, but what makes you think the dwarves would give us less comfort? They are less friendly, but their hatred of orcs is mutual."

I speak up. "Dairon, my Ada told me of the feud, and of the Nauglafring. Beren and the Green Elves fought them and killed their king. They have bad blood with us. The Lindar are our kin, they will allow us passage and sanctuary."

Dairon turns. "If my sense of direction is true, and I doubt it not, we should head this way. He turns down the hill, when suddenly a twig cracks. He freezes.

"Don't. Move." He mouths. Slowly, he unsheathes his sword. Turning to the bushes, he stabs in and a squeal sounds through the forest.

"Orc!" Dairon exclaims. "Come, we must move with haste, I fear it was a spy and the hunting party cannot be far off."

Elrûn shivers. "We are not armed! We must fly with haste!"

As he says this, a large black shape rushes out of the bushes.

"We are under attack! Run, my sisters grandsons, run!"

As he fights we watch in horror. "Run!" He howls again, and this time we oblige.

I trip over a hidden root and fall to the ground, knocking my head on a rock as I do.

"Eldûn!" My brother shouts. An orc grabs me and I kick at it, trying to dislodge it. It manages to get a good hit in though, and my arm is sliced open. Feeling my blood pour out on the earth, I whip out my dagger and stab the orc in the stomach. It falls, dead.

Gasping, I feel darkness climbing the staircase to my eyes.

"Eldûn! Come brother, stay with me!" Faintly I hear the frantic voice of my brother. I had been hurt before, but never like this. Usually elves are resistant to pain, but I was succumbing to my wound faster than I'd like to admit.

My eyes start to roll back when I feel a gentle slap on my face.

"It was poisoned. He is dying. Fangorn, bring him to Lindon, we must stand and fight!" Dairon. Faintly I moan.

"Elrûn! No, take him instead!"

I can fuzzily see his eyes wet with tears as if he was the one bleeding out.

"If you stay, you'll die." He says as he bandages my arm.

"But..." I fade off as a wave of pain passes through me and I see black for a second.

"Young Eldûn...ready to become prey...yeeessss."

I shout and thrash and faintly hear my brother as if through water.

"No, hold still! Fangorn, take him to safety, make sure he lives!"