Spirit of Fire [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ] 1

Chapter One

Chapter One

Míril watched the goblins celebrate the last moments of their lives. They chittered and danced around their campfires, gnawing at raw meat and picking their teeth with sharpened bones. Did they know death came for them? All she needed was Candaith's signal.

As the flames illuminated their rotting fangs and grey, wrinkled skin, she doubted even Mandos held them much in his thought. They would find no rest in death. But when they silenced the goblins, the Men and Hobbits of Eriador could sleep a little more soundly.

Míril could feel every muscle in Faeron's body tensing beside her. Candaith was lucky Faeron hadn't sprung out of hiding yet. Míril placed a hand on his shaking knee. And they all said she was the impulsive one.

Thirty or forty goblins sat scattered around campfires in the sparse trees. She hadn't gotten a total count. But there couldn't be many more. Ten for each seemed fair, anyway. And if Halros had gone soft from living in his little cottage on the edge of the Shire, surely they could pick up the slack.

Come on. Where was the signal?

She realized her own leg had started to shake when Faeron gave it a light smack. She looked over at him. In the dark she almost couldn't see where his brown hair ended and his brown cloak hood began. But she could see the glint of his grey eyes.

Three hoots of an owl pierced through the goblin revelry. She smiled.

Faeron loosed two arrows at the nearest goblin sentries. Strangled screams in whatever hideous dialect of black speech this tribe spoke clashed with the raucous feasting from moments before. Four more goblins dropped.

Míril left the sentries to Faeron and Halros. She drew her sword. Steel glinted in the firelight. Poison dripped from the curved blades raised to meet her. She didn't need poison.

Blades met. She heard whistling arrows race past her head. A few campfires flickered out. In the shadows, she couldn't make much out. Burning flesh hit her nose. Goblin? Animal? Probably both. Bodies dropped all around her.

Míril took the head off another one. In the dying light of the few remaining fires, she found herself face to face with Candaith. Blood splashed across his skin, tanned and scarred from long years in the wild.

"Took you long enough," she said. "Faeron and I nearly fell asleep waiting for your signal."

Candaith let out half a scoff. Míril saw his eyes widen before she slammed into a tree, Candaith's sword catching the blade of a goblin that would've taken her head off. She shook her head, forcing away the pain. If Faeron had seen that he'd never let her live it down.

It didn't take long before she stood back to back with Candaith, Faeron, and Halros around the last campfire. Nothing stirred in the trees. Even the leaves lay silent. Wildlife had the good sense to skitter away from goblins but apparently so did the wind.

"Well. That went quite well," Faeron said. "I for one think we did splendidly."

Míril snorted out a laugh. "Lucky you didn't blow our cover earlier."

"At least I did not find myself face-first in a tree trunk-"

So he had seen it. Well, so much for not getting teased through winter. But Candaith cut her off before she could respond.

"We are not out of the woods yet."

"Literally," said Faeron.

Míril barely managed to bite her cheek to hold her tongue. Halros wasn't so skilled. Must've been that cottage life.