All Who Wander Are Not Lost

Chapter 16

T.A. 2933-Spring

Morning. Sun filtered through the leaves of the tall oaks, maples, and firs. The breeze made soft noises through the branches, ruffling the leaves gently. Dew glittered on the bushes and the long blades of grass that poked up through the moss of the forest floor. It dripped from the petals of the many flowers that grew beneath the canopy, each drop as clear as a morning sky. Among the boughs, birds twittered and sand, their chirping becoming a natural part of the music of the woods. In the distance, beyond the trees, a stream could be heard bubbling as it danced over the rocks playfully. Sneaking through the brush trotted a doe and her faun, making their way to the stream for their morning drink of cool water. Here all was peaceful. Still. Calm.

Perched a top a boulder overlooking two sleeping figures, sat Thennil. Her body was ridged and alert, still as a statue, only her eyes moved, searching the undergrowth for any sign of a threat. Vaguely, she could hear the voices of her other three companions, their soft chatter drifting on the wind. She relaxed a small bit, glancing back at the still slumbering figures. After waiting a few moments she let out a sigh and closed her eyes, thinking deeply.

Everything had seemed to happen within the span of a few moments, in an instant. Even now she was having a hard time believing, numb from shock. How had she let her guard down? She didn't want to remember, it was too painful. The guilt had crept up upon her like a panther stalking it's prey, crushing her and tearing old wounds open again. Did she always have to be a few seconds too late?

And yet, should could not guilt herself too much. Arathorn was, and had been stubborn to the core, and being as pigheaded as he was at times, had decided to take on a foe that was to big for one person alone, letting down his own guard to his surroundings. The orc had been large, it's ugly face twisted in a permanent grimace, and much stronger than the man. Arathorn had gotten separated from his companions, never noticing the distance, and had missed the smaller orc. The orc had taken but a second, snarling and cursing the line of Isildur before drawing back his bow and firing an arrow at the chieftain. It had taken but a breath for the arrow to find it's mark.

He had hit the ground, arrow sticking from his face, having pierced through his eye. The anger that had coursed through Elladan, Elrohir, Mariam, and her veins had been unquenchable rage, and the orcs had come to know it. In the matter of a few minutes the rest of the orcs had been slain, blood seeping into the ground at the feet of the quartet, covering their bodies in the black liquid. Covered in the blood of their enemies, they had quickly removed the arrow from their fallen friend, binding it, before the twins had fashioned a stretcher to lay Arathorn's body on. Mariam had tried to use her gift to heal the man, and even with the combined efforts of Thennil, had been able to do nothing. He was to far gone.

Kneeling beside the broken man, his voice was choked with deep emotion, "I have failed, Thennil, just like my father, those before. I could not protect my people."

"Nay, my friend, never! You fought valiantly, honorably. The line of Kings still lives on strong in you, the line is not broken. Hold on, mellon nin. Hold on." she assured him, holding his hand as the twins settled him onto the stretcher. Her anger had turned to sadness, as her mind brought up all the times she had seen the chieftains fall on the front lines for their people, fighting to keep them safe.

It had been a sorrowful group that returned to the village, carrying the body of their fallen chieftain. The path they took was far from traveled, in hopes of avoiding the enemy if there were any left. Elladan and Elrohir worked hard to keep the stretcher steady, hoping to ease the ride for Arathorn as they travelled over the hills and down into the ravens. When they were a few minutes from the village, and Arathorn could hear the normal hubbub, causing him to rally his strength to sit up. A gentle hand pressed him back down, a glassy look in the owners eye, though the tears did not fall. It would not do to come in weeping, the people would know what the verdict would be without the silent crying.