Agents of the White Council – Passage Through Mirkwood

The forest passed by on either side of them, airless and still. Not even the calls of birds lightened the gloom of the forest floor. Precious little light filtered through the canopy in the heart of the woods. With a shiver of apprehension, Eleanor decided that the name ‘Mirkwood’ was far too apt a description for the loathsome stillness here.

But worse than the dank, heavy air that hung over the thick-grown trees and bushes – worse even still than the thick, cable-like webs which sometimes passed overhead, or hung stretched from tree to tree alongside them – was the growing feeling of foulness. The forest was filled with it, and with every league they traveled southward along the hidden paths of the Elves, the oppressive sense grew, as if some dark will was bent against their journey. But as bad as it was for Eleanor, it seemed as if the oppression fell heaviest on Lanwyn. The Dalewoman loved the clear skies and open hills of her home, and the closeness of the forest left her withdrawn and silent. Her brothers rode with the Elven scouts, and Eleanor often tried to make conversation with the lonely young woman, but their talks always ended quickly.

On the third day since they had left the Elven-king’s halls, Legolas called a halt. Eleanor was jolted out of her dark musings. Dismounting from her horse, she pressed forward to the head of the little company. A dark web, scarcely visible in the dim light of the forest, lay stretched across the path before them. Near the ground, the antlered skull of a once-majestic forest stag lay tangled in the cords. Legolas was kneeling and examining the web, while the rest of his scouts held back several paces.

The Elf glanced at her as she drew near. “The foul creatures of the Shadow dare now to lay their snares across the roads of my people,” he said. “Once, these ways were protected against the dark creatures of the forest. But now, against the Shadow that rises in Dol Guldur, it may be that none of the ancient wards will hold.” For a moment, all fell silent.

But then he laughed. “Forgive me, lady of Gondor. A fell mood was on me, but it has passed. See how our enemy tries to herd us, as if we were so many sheep! We should not lightly leave the path. Though it may be failing like so many things in these days, the old protections of this path will still offer us some measure of safety. We will not lightly be waylaid on it.” Then, calling to Thalin, he said.”Ho, master Dwarf! I have some need of your axe, and your stout arms to swing it.”

As Eleanor listened, an image began to take form in her mind. With growing treipdation, she thought she saw the Elf-prince and the dwarf, trapped great cords of spider-silk, struggling to break free while a dark presence grew closer. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, but the feeling of fear remained. Looking up, she saw a hint of movement in the branches. With a loud voice, she cried out. “Ware, Legolas! The enemy is upon us!”

It was not a moment too soon. As Legolas and Thalin sprang back towards the company, a great web fell from the trees above, covering the ground in sticky strands. A shriek of rage filled the air, a sound that cut into their minds like a knife. Eleanor felt the mind of some malevolent presence nearby, raging that its trap had failed, and she heard a scream from behind her. Turning, she saw that one of their company of west-bound travelers on the ground, overcome by the assault on their minds.

As Legolas guided the company around the web, Argalad – the chief of his scouts – ran up, stepping lightly over the strands of webbing. “Great spiders, my prince, and several of them. I have shot one, but the woods here are thick with them.” Even as he spoke, the forest became filled with the rustling of many legs. Three spiders the size of small ponies emerged from the bushes, springing towards them. With a snap, the mighty bows of Mirkwood sang, and the spiders crashed in ruin upon their own web.

“Quickly,” the Elf-prince cried out, and the company broke into a run. One of Eleanor’s honour guard brought her horse, and she mounted swiftly. The path was climbing steadily, and away to their left, she could see that the trees thinned a little bit, and the ground rose up in large swells – a small imitation of the great mountains that rose up in the south of the forest. A sudden swarm of bats flew out of the base of the hills, swirling around Legolas as if drawn to him.

Beside her, the fallen member of her company was roused again, and they set off quickly along the path. Away ahead of them, still far-off but all too close for comfort, Eleanor heard the howling of wolves.

Argalad cried back to the rest of the company. “The wolves of Dol Guldur are hunting! Their Orc masters will be marching with them.” Eleanor’s neck prickled, as if she was being watched by a thousand eyes. Though the first assault had been beaten back, the dark power that opposed them had not abandoned the pursuit.

They halted a few miles further on. Several Elves, their long hair disheveled and their clothing rent and worn, were coming up the road in haste. With quick words, the refugees told Legolas that they were fleeing from a large company of Orcs that was practically on their heels. Hastily, the company tried to set themselves in order, as battle seemed close at hand.

Rossiel, the red-haired Elf from Lorien, had stepped aside and was whispering softly to a massive oak tree on the edge of the path. Looking at Eleanor’s wondering gaze, she smiled sadly. “Among my people, it is said that long ago, we taught the trees to speak. This one here has been almost awake – I have noticed him before as I passed this way. The trees have no love for the orcs and their axes, and he may aid us.” One of the woodland trackers dashed by as the howls of the pursuing wolves grew closer. Eleanor’s guard arrayed themselves in front of her, spears at the ready.

The commotion seemed to have roused the embers of Lanwyn’s will, for the woman of Dale was alert again, her eyes fearfully darting around them. For a moment, all was still.

Then the air was filled with the cries of battle as a host of orcs appeared out of the forest at her side. Everything was confusion and commotion, and Eleanor saw the tracker she had watched earlier take a spear to the side and fall, grievously wounded. But Eleanor could not move to aid her, for she was quickly beset by foes on all sides. Drawing her thin sword, she parried several blows from the Orcs, placing herself and the bulk of her horse between the onrushing horde and Lanwyn. Thalin seemed to be everywhere, his great axe a blur of motion and fury.

A great beastmaster drove through the press, a brace of wolves behind him. Rossiel threw back her cloak to reveal a bright coat of mail. She set her spear with a wordless yell, and turned away the huge Orc’s charge. One of the wolves leapt upon her, tearing cruel rents in the mail. One of Eleanor’s honour guard drove it off, kneeling down to help the Elf to her feet. Lanwyn pointed, and her great hawk dove from her wrist to tear into the hapless wolf, talons clawing at its eyes. The Orc fell moments later, to an arrow from Legolas.

With a creaking noise, the roots of the great oak began to move ponderously, and Orcs scattered in terror. As they withdrew, Legolas gave a great shout. “This way!” The company fought their way free of the fleeing Orcs, and began to move with haste down the path. The road forked up ahead of them, but Legolas led them down the left-hand path without deliberation.

As they moved on, the forest grew darker and denser around them, and the feeling of being watched intensified. Eleanor scanned the shadowy undergrowth around them constantly, but every minute of their headlong rush seemed to her to be drawing them closer to peril, not away from it.

Finally, they stopped, the horses panting hard. The path had led them into one of the densest parts of the woods, and a foul stench filled the air. Eleanor drew up next to Rossiel. “Have we lost our way, lady Elf? For this part of the forest does not seem to me like a place where your kinsfolk would willingly build a path.”

Rossiel looked on the knotted underbrush, and a flash of something that looked akin to rage passed across her face. “This part of the forest was not always this evil, child of Numenor. But for years uncounted has this shadow lain here, leeching the virtue from the paths and the life and light from the woods. The evil of these woods lays traps to draw the unwary to it. Have you not felt it? It has exerted its will against us for miles. I do not think that we could have avoided it today.”

Legolas walked over to them, his face grave with worry. “We seem to have escaped most of the Orcs, but I fear we may find ourselves in more fell straits. Argalad tells me that a small band follows us still, but my greater fear is for what lies ahead.”

Rossiel looked at him, her pale face contemplative. “My knowledge of this evil runs deep, and it was wrested away from this place only at great cost. You are wise to fear it. But we may not turn back. All ways except for the path ahead are closed to us now.”

Doing her best to master the fear that gnawed at her insides, Eleanor drew her sword. “Onward then? If only that path lies open, then take it we must.”

Legolas laughed, his voice like the rushing of clear water. “Shall we let this woman of Gondor put us to shame, Rossiel?”

But Rossiel’s face was filled with dark thoughts, and it was long minutes ere she spoke. “There is no shame to fear this shadow, Legolas.” Then, her face cleared. “But, be that as it may, the woman has the right of it. There is no fear so fell but that thinking on it beforehand cannot make it worse. I have tested my power against it before, and survived. Perhaps we shall do so again.”

Again they pressed forward, and the cobwebs grew thicker and blacker around them, coating the branches over the path and the trees alongside them until it felt like they were in a tunnel. Ahead, the path opened up into a little clearing, where the forest roof soared high above them for a brief moment.

There She waited. A grotesque spirit of the ancient world, who long ages ago had taken up residence in the woods, whose evil had infected and spread through the forest. Her form was as a giant spider, bloated through ages of gluttony, but her mind was keen and cunning, and it was bent on devouring the flesh of mortals. Others there were like her in the deep forest, but she was fiercely jealous of them, and she and her brood had fought fiercely many times during the long ages of her occupation.

The Orcs that now often passed through these forests feared her greatly, but she often bent her mind to use them as her unwitting tools as they went by on the errands of their dark master. Sometimes, she lured them into her larder, where they lay for long whiles until her hunger grew unbearable, and she tore into her stores with reckless abandon. Other times, she used them to help her trap sweeter meat as it passed close by her realm.

From afar, she had noticed the approach of the company, and schemed how to best ensnare them. And now, in the center of her dark power, her presence was almost overwhelming.

But only almost. For, though the members of the little company were stricken with fear as they entered the fortress at the heart of her strength, they were not overcome with it. And so they saw her, veiled by the shadows so that only her bulbous eyes could be seen, reflecting the light of the torches they carried. Behind that lay only darkness, and a hint of a vast body and many legs. For a moment, her vast will strove against their minds, and they lay frozen. Then, Argalad loosed an arrow towards her eye, and her scream of pain broke the spell.

She scuttled towards them, far too fast, sweeping elven trackers and soldiers of Gondor out of her way with equal ease. She bore down on Legolas and Argalad even as they were reaching for their arrows, and for a moment, Eleanor feared all was lost.

But then, Rossiel was there. Her cloak of Lorien wrapped over her rent mail, and a long spear in her hand, she raised her hand in defiance. A great light burst forth from her hand, and the giant spider-thing stopped, it’s massive bulk quivering. Rossiel’s face was strained with exertion, and the spider’s fangs gnashed as it thrust its will against the elf-maiden. Suddenly, the sounds of combat reached Eleanor, and she spun around, remembering the rest of the company. Forest spiders were everywhere, and her soldiers strove for their lives. With growing panic, she cast her eyes about to find Lanwyn, but the Dalewoman was nowhere to be seen.

Then, as the shouts of orcs rang out, she found her. The young woman had curled up in a corner of the web-covered clearing, her eyes transfixed on the shadow-demon in spider form. Behind her, a half a company of Orcs had just entered the clearing, a fell chieftan leading them. The delight on their faces when they saw their prey in front of them made Eleanor’s blood run cold.

With a cry of defiance, she spurred her horse straight into the Orcs. A large spider, almost as great in size as the creature who governed them but much her inferior in malice, leaped at her, but one of her guards stood by with spear and shield, and turned the charge aside. Then she was among the orcs, laying about on all sides with her sword as they scattered in the face of her charge.

Drawing up next to Lawyn, she leaped down from her horse. The girl scarcely noticed her, but her hand was creeping towards the short yew bow she carried, but seldom used. Slowly, she drew it forth, laying a black arrow with a cruelly chiselled tip to the string. This close, Eleanor heard her breath coming fast and shallow, and the terror in the air was palpable.

Looking up, she saw that Rossiel had bent down on one knee, the light from her hand wavering. Eleanor felt the surge of exultation from the monster as the hateful will bore down on her prey. Argalad was down, either overcome by the creature’s will or the vapors of poison that she breathed. Legolas loosed arrow after arrow at the giant, inhuman face, but none flew true.

Lanwyn held the bow in front of her, tears streaming down her face. Slowly, as if she had to force her hands to do her bidding, she drew the string back, sighting along the arrow. It wavered, as her hands trembled, and she lowered it again. Then, the piercing scream of a hunting falcon rang out as her great raptor leapt into the air towards the beast. The Dalewoman started at the sound, and fear for her companion passed over her face for a moment. But whatever dark spell had held her motionless was gone. Then, with a smooth motion, she lifted the bow, drew the string back to her cheek and loosed.

The black arrow flew straight and true, burying itself in the gaping maw of the spider. With a shriek, she reared back, but another arrow from Legolas buried itself in her other eye, and the massive creature fell onto its back. With a scream of primal rage, Rossiel drew herself up, and struck at the thing with her spear again and again, until its legs curled up around it and it lay still.

With the death of the great creature, the dark will that drove the other denizens of the forest was broken. The Orcs fled, and most got away from that place. But of the foul brood of the evil thing, few escaped the bows of the Elves and the spears of Eleanor’s guard.

To Eleanor’s amazement, none of their company had been lost. A number had been gravely injured trying to bar the mad rush of the great spider, and many more – especially among the Elven trackers, who did not wear the heavy armor of her soldiery – had taken hurts in the battle, but none had died. Healers in Rossiel’s company tended to the hurts of the wounded, and Legolas came over to where she stood next to Lanwyn. Nodding at the Dalewoman, he complimented her on her feat of archery. “That was the bravest shot I have seen in many a year,” he said. “Songs of your valour will be sung in the Woodland Realm for many ages hence.” The young girl’s face burned red at his praise.

Then he turned to Eleanor. “As soon as we have finished treating the wounded, the road to the edge of the forest is open to us. Rossiel tells me that she left a raft stored on the banks of the Anduin. My father’s word commands me to see you to the edge of our realm safely, but the land beyond is not without its perils. If you object not, I shall escort your company to the River. It was a good day that we met beneath the Greenwood, Eleanor of Dol Amroth.”

Eleanor turned back to stare at the carcass of the great beast, shivering again. For though the dark will that dominated the forest was broken, she sensed beyond it and far off, the anger of a master whose servant had failed. It had not been accident that led them into this dark glen to face this nightmare. And the mind behind their meeting would not cease its efforts to stop them.

The end of Chapter 1.

Watch the quest play out on Youtube: https://youtu.be/xc4DFijR2_o