Nerwen the Green and the Search for the Entwives #wattys2019

Chapter XXVIII: The Avari

Chapter XXVIII: The Avari

When she came across the creek, Nerwen walked upriver, entering a short way into the looming forest, until the riverbed turned from sandy to stony, making water enough pure to be potable. The Istar drank her fill, rinsing her mouth from the taste of the salt; then she got busy gathering dried wood. She piled it on the forest limit and, when she had collected enough of it, she dug a shallow hole in the sand and piled up in it the thinner twigs; then she found some grass, dry enough to serve as a fuse, sat down and began to rub two wood pieces, in order to overheat them until the fuse ignited. She needed several minutes, but finally smoke rose from the dry grass; at once, she reached mentally for the upcoming sparkle and, when it burst out, she grasped and dilated it, making it ignite the fuse, which she then threw on the small pile of twigs and other dry grass she had prepared. After a few minutes, a small fire was burning in the hole.

Relieved, Nerwen went back to the creek, took off her clothes and washed the salt away from her body and hair, untangling the latter as best as she could by combing it with her fingers, and then she dried it with her power. She inspected the wound on her hip: it had perfectly healed, turning into a red scar of about 10 centimetres length. In time, it would fade, but the gash would remain, as a perennial reminder of Dolimavi's treacherous assault, at least until she would go back to Valinor and regain her full power as a Maia – and this wasn't certain at all.

The wounding and the resulting pain she felt had been a critical experience, for her. Her mind had found it difficult to accept what occurred and, clouded by physical pain, had responded slowly. For the first time since she had arrived to Middle-earth, she had confronted something totally unconceivable, for an Aini; the awareness it could actually happen had been of no use to her, because there is a huge difference between knowing something and experiencing it.

She had been taught a real lesson, and from now on, she would bear it carefully in mind.

She shook off those thoughts, plunged also her clothes in the water to rinse them from salt and squeezed them as much as possible. Before going back to the fire, she put them back on: in Valinor there weren't big issues going around naked in certain circumstances, like swimming in the sea, or in a lake or river, or at the thermal baths; but here in Middle-earth, customs were different and, even if she was enough sure there weren't people around, she wasn't willing to take any risk to be caught undressed, therefore she dried off in turn one garment at a time, beginning from her shirt.

When she was done, the sun was low on the horizon; Nerwen collected more wood in order to maintain the fire burning all night through: it wasn't cold, at the end of May in this southern country, but by the seashore there is always a lot of humidity, and she had no blanket to keep it off.

She sat down, thinking about what to do now.

First thing first, she had to go to Gaerlonn, where surely that swindler Corch would go, even if only to sell his goods – among them there were now also Thilgiloth and Thalion – and to buy those offered by the Elves. To reach the port city, she only needed to follow the coast eastwards, but she didn't know exactly how far away it was, therefore she had no idea how much time it would take her to get there, on foot. That was anyway a secondary issue: the major problem would be water in the first place, and then food. She had no canteen, so she could only hope to cross other creeks along the way; as for the food, in the wood she could find berries, mushrooms, edible herbs, roots, tubers and acorns, but they wouldn't offer a large nourishment, especially having to walk a lot. All she could do was hoping that along the coast she would find fishing villages where, in exchange of some thaumaturgic service, they would give her provisions, and maybe a mount to go faster on her journey. She knew, from overhearing casually chitchats among the sailors, that Corch stopped averagely ten days in the port, before sailing again to Gobelamon, and she wanted to get there in time to meet him and recover her belongings. In which way, she would see to once there.