Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

Broken Promise: Part Two

They moved slowly, enjoying the shade of the ancient trees and the soft warble of unseen wrens. Everything was peaceful, but Illeandir was ill at ease. Something was tugging him back, to turn around and flee, but at the same time he knew that Zaharias was to be found if he kept moving forward. He had to press on.

Without the sun to guide them, for the trees, thick with leaves, blocked the sky, they had only their sense of direction to guide them. The forest was kind to them though and they rarely lost their way. When Illeandir was absolutely certain they had gotten turned around in the twisting maze a clearing would open up, showing the dazzling sun and their way. Even though Illeandir did not know where he was going he knew that he had to go west, no matter what happened.

Three days they ventured deeper into Fangorn, moving slowly, but steadily west. Three days Illeandir's uneasiness gnawed at him until he lay awake long into the night, starting at every sound until exhaustion overtook him. He found himself peering into every shadow for unknown threats. The forest was eerily quiet.

The morning of the fourth day Ithilwen confronted him.

"Illeandir, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," came the automatic reply.

"All right, then what has you so strung up? You're worse than a cat in a dog house."

"I don't know," Illeandir said as he scanned the clearing they'd spent the night in. A small brook bubbled cheekily through the middle and disappeared into the trees. A soft breeze stirred the long leaves of the willows trees and sent the grass swaying.

"Are you ill?" came Ithilwen's concerned voice at his side. Illeandir jumped. He breathed slowly to calm himself.

"No."

Ithilwen frowned. He was pale and his hands shook ever so slightly. But, even as she watched him he seemed to shake off whatever plauged his mind. The color returned to his face and his hands steadied.

"Come," he said brightly, "we have a long way to go and Fangorn is not always so kind."

...

Hours later, when the sun was high a feeling of dread struck Illeandir. They were being watched. Ithilwen was walking a short distance ahead, too far ahead for him to reach her if they were attacked.

"Ithilwen," his voice came out hoarsly.

"What?" Ithilwen turned around.

"We are being watched."

Her eyes widened with fear and she froze. Illeandir quickly caught up to her.

"We need to keep moving," he hissed sharply. He'd been foolish to tell her just now. If whoever was watching them was within earshot they knew their presence was known.

"Who?" Ithilwen asked. Illeandir shook his head.

"I don't know."

What had Cúnor always told him to do if he was being followed?

"Keep your ears open, boy. Your eyes won't help you," the ancient elf said.

"Why?" a much younger and smaller Illeandir asked. A bird whistled in the tree above them. Cúnor pointed up.

"Do you hear her singing?"

"Yes," Illeandir replied.

"But can you see her?"

Illeandir searched the tree for the bird, but hard as he looked he never saw her.

"No," he said morosely.