All Who Wander Are Not Lost

Chapter 9

Standing tall on top of the ridge, Thennil watched the pass, eyes unwavering, every muscle tense, waiting. She was much like the statues at home in the garden, frozen in time. She had sat upon this hill for days, waiting for her mother and her escort. But she had seen no one. Grant it, her mother's guards were known to take their time when traveling, making sure that she was always comfortable and well watched over. It unnerved her how long it had been since she had heard the news. The orcs had started to increase slowly in their numbers within the misty mountains and the goblins were not so frightened of the sunlight as they had once been. Deep in her gut she wondered if something had gone wrong.

"I can't sit here any longer, Arthmos, I am going to meet them, where ever they are," she told the near invisible man who stood next to her, unmoving.

"Perhaps they are just late, Todaphel, your people tend to take their time when traveling." He replied, crossing his arms.(Guard-daughter)

"I am unsure, I have felt the darkness growing, and I do not trust that the roads that were once safe are the same."

"Wait another day, then go after the escort, it cannot hurt to be certain." He tried persuading her.

"Nay, I shall leave this minute, tell the children that I shall see them soon," she stated, whistling a long high note into the morning air, "Make sure that Aravorn continues the drill that I have been teaching him, I will not tolerate any slacking."

He chuckled softly, and nodded.

From the woods behind them a stallion trotted forth, summoned by her whistle. He held his head high, mane billowing in the wind, and tail flying like a flag. He was a magnificent beast, dapple grey in color with feather hair that grew on his legs. Her father had gifted her the horse many years ago on her begetting day, and he had been most useful.

Swinging up on to the stallions bare back she looked over her should, "If I do not return within three days, sent a messanger to Rivendell, something has wrong!"

"Aye, we shall wait your coming!" She nodded and snapping the reigns, sprinting down the ridge, hair flying, sun at her back and heart beating quickly.

Trotting down the path upon her mount, her mind ran over the many different things that could have gone wrong with her mother's escort. They could have left late, one of the rivers that they had to cross could have been too high, they had met someone on the way and that had delayed them.

"Something must have come up, she reasoned with herself, "that is the only reason that they could be late."
Deep in her heart she knew that this was untrue, she could sense that something was wrong. The Mountains had become too quiet, too still. The creatures that lived within it's shadows were hushed in their movements, ever watchful. The rangers had found tracks of newer Orc packs that they had not seen before, and had begun to hunt them down in small groups. It was not enough, she had told them; the orcs were multiplying like she had never remembered, and it worried her. She knew that within the last month they had found tracks for a large group of orcs that had been moving around this area, but they hadn't seen any signs of them within the last few weeks. Her heart nearly stopped. They had been scouting out the area, looking at the Redhorn Pass' vantage points and where it would be easiest to attack an unsuspecting traveler. Urging Talagor on faster, she prayed that she wouldn't be too late to warn the escort. She had to be in time!

Riding around one of the bends in the path two days later she stopped abruptly, jaw hanging open. Flinging herself from her mount she rushed forward and fell to her knees before the scene that met her aching eyes. The ground was littered with the bodies of her people, torn and bloodied. It was apparent that they had been lying there for a day or two at least, the ground soaking up the blood like a sponge. There were limps dismembered from the bodies, and the faces of the slaughtered were twisted with the pain of their last moments. The clothes of some of the warriors had been ripped and torn from the bodies, and the hair of some of them had been hacked off. She had choked at that sight. The hair of her people was considered sacred, never to be cut unless some great doom had befallen their people, if ever. Strewn among the bodies of her people were the bodies of a few Orcs, larger than she had seen before, and twisted with evil.