A liaison in the Great Greenwood

Chapter 29

The breeze was chilling to her skin as it wisped her raven hair about her face. The long grass swayed in the wind and had started to turn different shades of soft browns due to the oncoming cold.

The plains rolled on for miles on all sides and sloped on a slight incline at her front. Yet before her she could see in the far distance the shimmering mirror of what was possibly the Sea of Rhûn for as she turned her eyes to the North she could see the lonely peak shrouded in clouds and both Ered Mithrin and Ered Engrin even further in the distance around it. Turning to look behind her, she could see the vast ocean of the Greenwood some miles away.

There could only be one answer to this, she was in the plains of Rhovanion, somewhere between the Woodland realm and Rhûn itself.

These were the plains where perhaps Thranduil's army would clash with the Easterling insurgents. But why was she there? What was the meaning of her presence? Why was she alone for not even the Mearas, the noble horses that often grazed in the plains, could be seen anywhere.

Had they fled the area due to the oncoming war? Perhaps they had, yet then again perhaps her isolation had a deeper meaning. Before she could continue to contemplate upon it she caught the scent of a peculiar smell that she was all too familiar with. Its scent made her stomach churn with dread and foreboding. As she turned back to face the Sea of Rhûn, there, a short distance from where she was sitting, lay the slumped over body of a flaxen haired warrior, struck in the back with not one but three morgul shafts, a fourth protruding from his leg. Yet they were facing away from her and their blood stained cloak veiled their armor so she could not clearly identify who it was. Though her heart knew it was one of her pale haired warriors.

She had tried calling out to them but again her throat was choked of all voice. She tried to stand but her legs refused her movement. Her eyes burned with tears of anguish as she strenuously dragged her body towards that of the fallen ellon. Yet the more she moved towards them, the further the fallen warrior became. Her arms and hands ached as she dragged herself in desperation yet in vain. As her worn hands grasped at the grass and soil beneath her, her voice still void of sound a she tried to call out, she felt a wetness suddenly seep through her fingers. Dark crimson blood began seeping up through the ground. Mortified, she jolted herself up, she too was now covered in it.

And that is when she woke, breathing heavily, her body feeling weighted. She calmed herself somewhat when she realised she was back in her chambers, the Elvenking still sleeping by her side.

Why had that dream come to her? What was the meaning of it? Would one of her beloved warriors fall on the battlefield? Glorfindel? Haldir? Or one of her dear royals, Legolas or Thranduil? If this premonition was indeed to come to pass then she would definitely be needed. She was the only being in the Woodland realm who possessed the skills to heal such grievous and potentially mortal injuries. Indeed, they could send for her father, but would Lord Elrond reach them in time to save whoever would receive the wounds? Adlanniel concluded that it would be very unlikely and thus one would undoubtedly fall. How could she possibly allow that to happen? How could she allow her protectors, her lovers, her friends fall on the battlefield? She simply couldn't accept it... She couldn't allow it! She knew that she would go against her word that she would obey and stay in the Woodland Halls like Thranduil had asked her to, but she could not allow he or any of the others die. Indeed, she had the two tiny faë growing within her womb to care for and nourish, but yet what if the fallen warrior of her dream had been Legolas, the father of one of them? How could she herself possibly live without him, especially knowing that she could have saved him given the opportunity? She knew deep within her heart that if either her prince or her king fell, she would not be able to survive the grief that would ultimately come with it...