Flight to Anduin

[Redbird again, after a very long time! If you don't remember what the heck Redbird, or any of the other funny-sounding names in this post are about, rest is on the right, under the label redbird. Enjoy!]

             Aquila, as he had previously proven, was easily able to keep pace with the horses of the elves. The leaping, jolting motion of his run was not nearly as smooth as Rakhel's flowing canter, but Redbird felt there was a very important consideration that outweighed this slight defect. Despite the fact that her entire head could easily fit between Aquila's powerful jaws, she trusted him entirely - with Rakhel she had always felt a slight apprehension that the horse's hostility would lead her to buck her rider off at any time for no greater cause than sheer ill-nature.

            A few days on Aquila's back fully accustomed her to the new mode of travel. She did not fully appreciate what a strange spectacle she made riding the moon-wolf until they chanced to pass a hunting party of humans, strayed far from their home farms, as they continued their journey through the land of Derth.

         They had been riding hard most of the morning, and the afternoon sun was shining hot upon them. Redbird and the elves were high up on a gently inclined hillock and the humans far below in the wooded valley when the two parties caught sight of each other.  They were a group of rough-looking farmers, dressed in home-spun cottons and wielding clumsy weapons, no doubt searching for some stray venison to supplement their scanty winter provisions, riding gargantuan cart-horses obviously more suited to lugging plows than to the swift chase.

           The peasants stared for a few moments with widening eyes at the trio silhouetted against the verdant green of the country-side, dressed and armed in a manner that they had never seen before in all of their lives. Then, with shouts of terror and loud cries of ‘The demons from the woods! The demons from the woods!’ they took to their heels with never a backward glance and many gestures to ward away their evil. This was strange, but had anyone suggested to Redbird that it was she, and not the imposing elves who were her escorts, who was the cause of their alarm, she would have laughed. It was only when she caught a glimpse of her reflection as they passed a still, blue lake later in the day that she began to realize the extent of the transformation her travels had caused.

                 The single month that she had spent with the Fair Folk had changed her beyond all recognition. The nondescript village girl from the Hock had vanished, leaving in her place a slim, slight person, arrayed in the manner of an elven noble. Her hair, always long, had grown past her waist. She had taken to keeping it back in a thick braid that wound around her head and her delicate features, previously lost in a dense, dark brown mane, stood out sharply against this frame. The sun and the wind had darkened her light brown skin to a rich mahogany, and her gold and ash-coloured eyes, always her best feature, shone out of this dim setting like jewels.

            By her side swung the long, thin sword the elves had given her and in her belt were thrust her daggers. Beneath her panted a huge silver wolf, with eyes the colour of winter skies and teeth as long and dangerous as butcher's knives. In addition to all these, Redbird noticed with astonishment, lean, hard muscles were beginning to form in her arms and in her legs.

           "Have you finished gazing on your own splendour?" asked a voice beside her, startling her out of her reverie. It was Nirulin, watching her with evident amusement.

            "I look so dangerous," said Redbird, still staring at the face in the water.

            "Hardly. Only humans as foolish as those farmers we met earlier today would say so," said Nirulin, depressing her pretensions in a manner Redbird thought unnecessarily cruel. "Eohin, what say you, brother? There is food and fresh water here. Should we make camp, or continue our journey?"

               Eohin glanced at the darkening sky with evident uneasiness. "The land that lies ahead is barren and wasted - we stand at the threshold of the Anduin desert," he said slowly, "We would do well to stay our travels here while the earth continues to supply our wants."

             "What is your trouble, brother?" asked Nirulin, with furrowed brow, one hand instinctively reaching for the pommel of his sword.

             "Those humans - "said Eohin slowly "The farmers of Derth are not as friendly to the Fair Folk in these dark times as they were when they believed our passing sweetened the earth and caused their buds to swell and burst into fruit. I am afraid that today's encounter will lead to future difficulties,"

               "We have food to sustain us in the wastelands of Anduin," said Nirulin, "It is only the lack of water I fear. It is my counsel that we, and our steeds, spend the night here, and rest and drink to prepare for the rough riding ahead."

             "So be it," said Eohin and Redbird muttered, almost inaudibly, "Yes, I think so too, how nice of you to ask my opinion, Eohin."

             "But there will be no fire tonight," he said, glancing uneasily again towards the woods, "Curse these endless hills! There is no place of concealment to be found for miles."

           They broke for camp in silence. Some foraging in the undergrowth yielded an adequate harvest of miscellaneous roots and shrubs, which the elves summarily handed over to Redbird to prepare the night's meal with. Redbird sometimes thought to herself, with slight bitterness, that her part in the adventure, initially as vital as Princely Mentor, was being increasingly reduced to the measly role of Food-Producer-in-Chief.

           A loud howling broke out as they began eating their dinner. Eohin, in what was no doubt intended as a pleasant variation on his customary gloomy silence, and possibly feeling that he had been too friendly to Redbird that day, chose this as an opportunity to cast her a nasty look and make a dour comment.

               "It's your moon-wolf," he said, "The beast will have all the villagers in the vicinity upon us if he doesn't do his hunting more quietly."

                   Redbird slapped at a mosquito that was humming around her left ear viciously. Silence fell again, only to be broken minutes later by the heavy thud of running paws on hard earth.

                 The ghostly shape of the moon-wolf emerged in the firelight, his flank and muzzle dyed with red stains that shone a ghastly crimson in the light of the low flames. Redbird cried out and started forward, until she realized that the blood staining Aquila's silver fur was not his own. The wolf was dragging along a broken figure that cried out and moaned piteously - it was this man's blood that laced the silver slopes of Aquila’s bulk with bloody streams.

                    The night, till then entirely still and silent save for the soft cries of hunting owls, turned alive with subtly threatening sounds. The elven horses nickered and pawed the ground anxiously, turning their heads to the east. Following their gaze, Redbird looked and saw a dull red glow beginning in the heart of the forest that lay all around them. The dawn was yet several hours away.

                        Eohin instantly assumed control of the situation.

                      "Drop the man, wolf!" he commanded Aquila sharply.

                        Completely ignoring the elven prince, Aquila padded towards Redbird and laid the bleeding man at her feet. She patted neck side gently, feeling the rapidity with which the blood raced through his veins.

                  Perhaps because she and Aquila shared the bond of a life spared, perhaps because days of being in intimate contact with the animal had developed a rudimentary communication between the two of them, Redbird seemed to guess intuitively what her wolf was trying to tell her. The man was a threat; and so Aquila had brought him to her.

             "I think this man was spying on our camp," she said, raising her face to the elven princes, now both standing with heads half-turned to the east. "There is some danger we don't know about yet. Aquila brought him here as a warning."

             Eohin drew his sword and strode forward to the prostate man. "Why were you spying on our camp, human?" he demanded, in a voice like splintering ice. "And are they your friends we see to the east who seek to brighten the night with their fires?"

              Although the man was evidently dazed and afraid, he had enough determination left in him to stare defiantly up at Eohin and spit dryly at the elven prince's legs. "You'll get no answers from me, demon!" he growled, "Bring back the children you stole from us and then we'll see if you burn just as though you were made of flesh and blood like a natural being and not an abomination of witchcraft."

           "What is this madness?" asked Eohin, staring at the man.

             "This is no time for questions," said Nirulin, "Listen, brother! Can you not hear the cries of the trees as they burn and the shouts of the men baying for our blood? We have not the leisure to delve to the bottom of this mystery now. We must fly into Anduin, and hope for a better welcome from the desert sands than we have found here."

           Hastily they gathered their few provisions together and took one last cooling drink of water from the lake. When the crowd of villagers reached their camp there was nothing to be seen, except for a single man, bearing the grievous imprints of the maws of a great beast, who spoke of a witch who could speak to animals just as if they spoke to her in human tongues and of a great and evil magic.