The Littlest Warrior

The Lórien party closed in hard and fast on the borders of the Golden Woods. They’d ridden for days, stopping only when forced to by the exhaustion of the horses. As the border came into view they urged the horses on, safety and aid was now in sight, and Malrin prayed that once inside her borders his lord would have the means to cure his young charge. There hadn’t been much conversation between them since Andras’ attack, none knew what to say. Malrin blamed himself for the lad’s condition and cursed the moment he had allowed the elf out of his sight. He had no idea how he would explain this to Daenir, the lad’s father. It was his responsibility to get them to Rohan and home safely, and he’d failed; he’d been careless and Andras had paid the price.

The trees of Lórien held more than golden leaves, telain, and the promise of safe haven for friends. Secreted amongst their branches stood members of the Galadhrim, wardens of the borders, the deadliest archers in all Arda. Orophin, brother of the March Warden, was the first to espy the approaching riders. Signaling his brother Rúmil and their comrades with a birdcall, the archers unslung their bows and prepared to defend their borders.

“Can you see who it is? questioned Rúmil.

“Not yet my brother, but whoever comes, rides as if the very hounds of Morgoth were behind them.”

From higher in the great tree the voice of their companion Ingorn was heard.

“They are almost into view…it looks like…yes - stay your bows, tis Malrin!”

“Malrin?” Orophin questioned, “His party is not expected till 4 days hence.”

“Be that as it may, tis he, and they are still riding hard.”

“Something is amiss,” Rúmil said knowingly, “he would not ride his horse so, unless something plagued them.”

Climbing down, the wardens raced to the edge of the wood. Malrin, who was riding in the lead with Fael right behind him dismounted first, and quickly addressed the sentry.

“Rúmil, where are your horses?”

Rúmil stood with a questioning gaze on his face. “What is wrong my gwador, what plagues you that you ride your horses into the ground?”

“We will explain later brother; we have fallen upon ill times and must get Andras into the city as quickly as possible!”

Rúmil whistled for their mounts and as they approached he watched Malrin reach to take Andras down from the saddle. The young elf looked as though he had been through quite an ordeal and Rúmil could see the worry and tension on the faces of the others. Fael alit and helped Malrin lower the lad gently to the ground.

“What has happened to him?” Ingorn asked.

“We know not, only that he was attacked as he hunted in Fangorn forest…we did not see his assailant.”

“Fangorn! Orophin exclaimed, “what was he doing in that foul place?”

Fael speedily mounted Rúmil’s horse, and positioned himself to seat Andras in front of him. Malrin and Orophin lifted the unconscious elf and placed him in Fael’s arms.

“Go!” Shouted Malrin as he slapped the horse hard on his flank. Fael took off at a gallop heading towards the center of the woods, and the help that only his Lord and Lady might provide, praying that he would be in time to save the elf’s life.

Hedrían and Elwaith arrived then, pulling the ponies behind them. Exhausted and out of breath they stood down from their mounts and looked to the other elves.

“He is away then?” asked Elwaith anxiously.

“Be at ease Elwaith, Fael rides with him to the city…what happened out there?” Rúmil questioned.

“I must use one of your horses,” Elwaith said. “The healers may need my assistance, and I have acquired medicines that may be of help.”

“Ingorn…your mount! Rúmil ordered. The elf quickly handed the reins to his Lieutenant. “Take her,” he said as Elwaith pulled his satchel from his tired steed, “she is faster than Orophin’s mare, and better rested.”

Elwaith mounted and secured his bag across the horse’s shoulders as Ingorn handed him a freshly filled waterskin.

“Thank you my friend, I only hope that we are in time.” With that the elf took off, racing after Fael and the injured elf. As the others stood watching him leave, Malrin, worn out, leaned his back against a tree, and slowly slid down to a squatting position. Covering his eyes with his hand the elf began to weep. Hearing Malrin’s despair Hedrían came to his side; placing an arm around his shoulders he tried to comfort the distraught elf.

“This is not your fault meldir; there was no way you could have known.”

“But I should have known!” Malrin shouted. “I should have known! It was my task to know, it was my task to bring you all home safely…to bring him home safely to his father. It was my task to…”

“Enough of this Malrin!” Hedrían exploded. “There is only one to blame for this, and that is whoever or whatever attacked him.”

“Whatever?” Ingorn asked quizzically. “What do you mean…'what’ ever attacked him?”

“We do not know who or what attacked the lad…we never saw them…we only heard…”

“Heard what?” Rúmil demanded.

Malrin looked up and stared at the border guard through tear-filled eyes.

“Heard what I still hear in my heart!” Malrin shouted. “Heard what still echoes in my ears and in my mind…”

Hedrían placed his hand on Malrin’s shoulder to calm him, then looked up at Rúmil and quietly replied,

“We only heard his screams…”