At the Mercy of a Burning Coal

Disclaimer; If I owned Tolkien’s characters, they’d all have many injuries…unluckily for Lathwen, and Lillian, I own them and they can’t do anything about it.

The stars twinkled mischievously above Lathwen as she galloped quite hard down the abandoned road before her. For three miles (a league) all she heard was the sound of hoof beats and her own fast breathing. She wanted to be sure that nobody would be able to catch up if they followed her. But then, who’d want to help her uncle on his own free will, besides his guards who were getting paid very well? Her uncle, after all, was somewhat of a nobleman who could afford such luxuries.

For Lathwen, the time flew by, Rosethorn’s hooves digging up clods of dirt and dust, along with weeds and summer flowers, causing the path to become clouded. The moon lit the path for her, and that was good seeing as she had no means of light. After another mile or so, she slowed a fatigued Rosethorn to a trot, then a walk, and then she stopped her altogether. Lathwen’s breathing had slowed, but her heart was still pounding.

She led Rosethorn by the bridle to the side of the weather-beaten path where grass was growing. On both sides there were towering trees…apparently she was in some part of the woods. Rosethorn was eating and staying put, but Lathwen was itching to be off again. So she patiently waited for Rosethorn to finish eating and resting while she took off the saddle and opened up the saddlebag while she knelt on the dry ground.

With a smile, she saw that it contained an empty waterskin, some stale bread and cheese, an apple, and some dried meat. Lathwen wasn’t hungry at the moment, and it would be better if she saved some of her provisions for later. She pulled out a copper colored bracelet, but immediately put it back, seeing as it was no use to her now. As she dug deeper into the bag, Lathwen felt something hard and metal hit her fingernail. She drew it out and gasped. It was an oak leaf shaped brooch made of silver and…what was it? Lathwen hadn’t seen it before…it was brighter and shinier than silver, but the same color. Lathwen shrugged and almost put it back in the bag. Almost.

It was such a beautiful thing, lovely, delicate workmanship, but Lathwen would feel guilty if she wore it. With a sigh, Lathwen moved her hand into the moonlight so she could see it clearer. For a moment it felt like it was searing cold, but then it returned to its normal temperature, and looking even more closely, Lathwen could see some script. It was most definitely some sort of writing, but the words and form were spider web thin, and they were strange to her. She didn’t know what it said.

She dropped it into the pocket of her dress and stood up, heaving the saddle against a particularly large tree. Lathwen unstrapped the bow from her back, and selected an arrow, pulling it from the quiver. Now was a good a time as any to practice. Lathwen frowned as she looked at the bow and arrow in her hands. She had seen the little boys in Bree when playing ‘war’ shoot arrows at their ‘enemies’ stuffed sackcloth dummies. She had watched them time and time again, and thankfully, she had the general idea.

Frowning in concentration, Lathwen bent the bow and placed the arrow on the string. She marveled at how hard it was to pull the bowstring back, but she managed to get the feather of the arrow near her earlobe. Aiming at a huge oak tree, she released the string and let out a yelp. Without looking to see where the arrow had gone, she dropped the bow and pulled back the sleeve of her dress where a welt was forming on her wrist. She needed an arm guard, and badly if she was going to have to practice. Lathwen took the flat metal bracelet out of the saddlebag and slipped it onto her left hand. It covered from her wrist all the way up to the middle of her forearm. Where had the Ragwart’s gotten all of this from?

She chose an arrow again, and set it on the string. Lathwen aimed at the big oak a yard away, and released the arrow. Her jaw dropped as she watched it fly from the bow and bury itself in the tree. Lathwen drew another arrow and let it go, but she missed the tree by inches. At least the bowstring didn’t cut into her anymore. She sighed as she tramped over to the tree to pick up her arrows, if she was going to be able to defend herself, she’d need more than luck…she’d need much more practice.

Lathwen walked back to Rosethorn and put the saddle on her, slinging her arrows and bow on her back. She tied the leather bag (which held her spare clothes, a hairbrush, and some ribbon) to the saddle horn and mounted up. Just as she was guiding Rosethorn off of the grass and onto the soft dirt path, she heard the distant echo of hoof beats, and what sounded like a man speaking in a low voice to his horse.

Lathwen knew it might not be anybody dangerous, but she decided not to take that chance. In a panic, she kicked Rosethorn into a gallop, and didn’t slow down until she had put a considerable distance between herself and the other horse.

***
That was the last time Lathwen was going to see anything of Bree for a very long time. The road she was traveling on was called the Great East Road, the road east of Bree that led to the Midgewater, and Weather Hills, and most dauntingly of all, Weathertop. Of course, Lathwen didn’t know any of this at that point in time, but she would soon find out where she had been, and where she had to go.

***
Lathwen had ridden through the night, stopping seven times for Rosethorn to rest. By the light of dawn, she could see that she was no longer surrounded by trees, and was on top of a hill. She could see many others around her, but one stood out in particular. It was larger, and taller than the others, and Lathwen thought that she could discern piles, no, a ring of stones on top of it. The ruins of some castle? Tower? Or was this a hallucination?

Lathwen snorted to herself as she sat astride Rosethorn, “ Just because you’ve never seen any of these things doesn’t mean that they’re hallucinations.” She scolded herself, “ Honestly Lathwen, pull yourself together girl!” Sighing, she reached down and opened the saddlebag and drew out the apple, munching on it as she guided Rosethorn toward the big hill in the hope that she’d be able to see something from the top of it.

The apple’s juice made Lathwen realize how parched she was. Her lips were cracked and her mouth was dry. She sucked all of the juice from the bite of apple she had just taken before chewing and swallowing the rest. If only she could find water…maybe there was some ahead.

Lathwen urged Rosethorn to a trot and looked behind herself. She sighed in frustration as she saw five figures exit the woods, which she had just come out of too. One bore a banner with her uncle’s symbol on it…a bear. The symbol had always been a joke among the staff at the tavern, but right now, Lathwen had no intention of laughing. She heard one of them call faintly to the others and point to her.

She turned around and cantered down the rest of the hill and onto the next, almost at the huge. On the way, she threw down the apple core and focused fully on reaching the top of the massive hill.

Oddly enough, she wasn’t afraid of the guards that her uncle sent, and she wasn’t even scared of the gigantic hill before her, which was a place of fear among the inhabitants of Bree. Lathwen had no idea why it created superstitions among them; she had no idea why people were afraid of a hill. It was a *hill* for pities sake!

Lathwen was halfway up the huge hill when she looked behind her and saw that the guards weren’t following. In fact, they were just watching. Soon enough, they turned around and went back into the woods at the leader’s command. Lathwen grinned to herself and urged Rosethorn up the rest of the hill, “ Come on girl, just a little bit further and then you can rest. You can make it.”

Rosethorn must’ve understood Lathwen’s words somehow, for when they reached the top, she stopped dead with a low whinny that echoed through the barren land. Lathwen winced at the loud sound and dismounted, feeling pins and needles in her legs. She took off Rosethorn’s saddle and leaned it against one of the parts of the stonewalls that were still intact. With a sigh of relief Lathwen began walking around the summit’s perimeter.

Once she had completed one lap, the tingling in her legs was gone, and she was feeling strangely awake. She had figured that after a day without sleep she would live up to her uncle’s standard and become a grouchy bear. But maybe it was overtiredness. This place was depressing, causing her to feel very alone.

Lathwen went to the part of the hill that they had entered in and looked around…she couldn’t see a single living thing around. Letting out a breath, Lathwen began to go back to Rosethorn, but stopped as she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye.

Whipping her head around, Lathwen spotted something that looked as if it had recently escaped from hell. A cross between a goblin and some sort of creature that looked as if it lived in the swamps was struggling halfway up the hill. It had brownish yellow skin and was wearing animal hides. It had a helmet on, and was carrying what looked like a crowbar. It definitely wasn’t clean, polite, or healthy. It was limping; one foot dragging like a piece of dead meat.

Lathwen’s nose wrinkled involuntarily. She had heard of these things in strange fireside tales told by the warrior men that came into Bree. Of course, they’d only told these stories when drunk, so she hadn’t been very sure of their reliability until now. Orc’s they were called, servants of an evil lord whose name no one in Bree dared to utter.

She drew an arrow from her quiver and put it on the bowstring, and then she let go and watched with a sort of pride as it hit the creature’s abdominal, right above its left hip. It let out a shrill scream then dropped down and lay still.

Disgust overcame her delight in aiming well when she saw that she had killed it. She had killed chickens in the kitchen for Rosemary, squashed beetles and spiders, but somehow this was different.

Lathwen ran down half of the hill until she came within a yard of the creature. Truly, up close it was even more disgusting, its black blood pooling about it. Lathwen picked up a handful of pebbles and heaved them at the orc who didn’t move when they hit it. Just to be sure, she took a large stone and threw it at the orc who stayed still. It was dead.

She timidly approached it and circled around it, marveling that such a thing actually existed. She saw a pouch around the thing’s waist and deftly untied it and opened it up. Inside was a scroll that Lathwen unwound and looked at. The ink looked suspiciously like blood, and the smell confirmed that it was. Lathwen almost vomited, and she quickly put the letter away. She couldn’t read what it said anyway.

She began her long trudge back up the hill and noted that her lack of knowledge was lamentable. She’d have to learn a few languages once she got the chance. Lathwen sighed, there were lots of things she would have to do once she got the chance. *If* she got the chance that is.

Lathwen got to the top of the hill and knew instantly that something was wrong. Rosethorn was rearing and neighing like her life depended on it. Lathwen slowly walked toward her, speaking softly and trying to calm her. Rosethorn eventually stopped acting up long enough for Lathwen to saddle and mount her. Obviously this place wasn’t just getting to her.

Lathwen asked Rosethorn to gallop farther before they would rest for the time being. “ Just until we get out of here Rosethorn m’girl…then I promise we will rest for a good long hour.” Lathwen knew from the sun’s position that it was most likely eight o’ clock in the morning. She wondered what her uncle was doing back home. Probably interrogating or telling off some poor soul. She dismissed this thought, stubbornly refusing to think of her uncle.

***
“ This is just ridiculous.” Lathwen said out loud to herself and tired Rosethorn who still hadn’t gotten that promised hour’s rest. “ Absolutely ridiculous! How can there be no sign of any living thing for miles and miles and miles?!” Receiving no answer, (but then again she hadn’t been expecting one) Lathwen growled in frustration, “ Aarrggg!” With a sigh, Lathwen made Rosethorn trot rather than walk like they had been doing for a few miles.

A sparkling river came into view, and Lathwen rushed towards it. It foamed and bubbled violently for a moment, but then calmed. Lathwen dismounted and filled the waterskin to the top.

Kneeling down, Lathwen cupped her hands and dipped them into the clear water. She washed her hands first, then brought them to her lips and drank the cool, clean water. It soothed her parched and sore throat like nothing else. She wiped her mouth and rested on the ground until Rosethorn had drunk her fill.

“ Well m’girl, I do believe that we are in desperate need of a map…and more food.” Lathwen said to Rosethorn who just snorted. With a crooked smile, Lathwen mounted up on Rosethorn and crossed the river.

Lathwen looked around and noticed that there were pines and oaks all around. It looked and smelled beautiful and peaceful here. A twig snapped beneath Rosethorn’s hoof as she stopped completely, causing Lathwen’s head to jerk up. Her eyes grew wide and she instantly reached for her bow, placing an arrow on the string. “ Just what I needed.” She thought to herself as she slowly raised the bow to point at a cloaked stranger in front of her.

The figure pushed back its gray hood and held up his hands as a sign of peace. Lathwen lowered her bow and assessed this stranger. It was a man, with shoulder length brown hair and eyes the color of honey. He wore a sword at his waist, and was riding a brown stallion. “ Who are you?” Lathwen asked sharply. The man lowered his hands and answered, “ Eothain. And your name...?”
“ Call me…call me Alanessa.” She wouldn't trust him with her real name just yet. “ That is not your real name.” Eothain said. Lathwen answered, “ It is now.”

The man’s eyes narrowed but he let the subject drop. “ Where are you going?” He asked. “ Gondor.” Lathwen replied. The man’s eyebrows shot up and he said, “ You’re quite a long way off. You’re going the wrong way to.” Lathwen’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, “ I don’t have a map.” She suddenly brightened and asked, “ Do you have a spare one?” Eothain nodded in a somewhat bemused way and he reached into his saddlebag and drew out a folded piece of parchment, slightly worn from age. Lathwen thanked him and took the map, unfolding it.

She had been taught to read by her mother long ago, and she found this map easy to read. She cried out in dismay when she saw how far she still had to go. Eothain saw the disappointment and said, “ You can keep the map, Alanessa. Why don’t you go to Imladris where you can rest for a while?”

Lathwen looked suspiciously at Eothain and asked, “ Imladris?” Eothain nodded and pointed behind him with a gloved hand, “ I’ve just come from there. Quite sophisticated people, elves.” Lathwen’s heart sped up and she choked out, “ Elves?!” Eothain gave Lathwen a strange look and said, “ Yes, Alanessa…elves. Surely you’ve seen them before?”

Lathwen ignored his question and asked, “ How far to Imladris?” “ Half mile at the most.” Eothain answered. Lathwen bit her lip…she didn’t need any delays...but then again, she needed all of the help she could get. “ Fine. Thank you, Eothain. You’ve been such help! I promise to repay you someday!” With that, she cantered past him and around the bend.

Eothain shouted, “ Do you want me to come with you?” But there was only silence in reply. He shrugged and forged the river, starting towards the Shire where he had business to attend to.

***
A mile later, he met with a stranger in a cloak that made him seem invisible when he was in the shadows. “ A girl on a white horse with a red mane…she had a bow and wore a dress…have you seen her?” The man’s face couldn’t be seen clearly, but his voice was so…so…he couldn’t describe it, but Eothain couldn’t help but trust the man, despite his better judgment.

“ Alanessa? Yes, she’s…” But before he could finish his sentence, the man was off, shouting a thank you, his mount speeding down the road like lightning. Eothain just stared after him for a while, and then shook his head in puzzlement. What a strange way to begin the day…even strange for a ranger.