Just a note to all of you guys who might not know Mirkwoods history. It was once called Greenwood the Great.
Plain italicized words are mind-speech, bold italicized words are mind-speech of people who are together in the same place. (If that makes sense. ;) )
Robin
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Tightening the straps on her saddle, Authora glanced over the ponies back at the dark haired dwarf across from her. They had barely spoked since their kiss the other day, and for that she was grateful. She had never been 'in love' with anyone, but she had loved her family very much. This was an entirely new feeling for her. To know that it wasn't just her father and mother who loved her was quite overwhelming, if that was what Thorin felt. She couldn't be sure; he was so good at hiding his emotions most of the time that when he let them out she wasn't sure what to do with them. Groaning silently, she stuck her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up onto the roan colored pony.
Beorn slipped up next to her and laid a hand on the pony's neck, "Be careful my friend."
"I shall try, but there is no telling with me," She teased lightly.
"I fear for you; you know the anger with which the Elvenking rules. He will not be kind to you."
"I know this, but please, keep this to yourself. I do not fear death, not even by my Aunt's husband's hand," She whispered.
Beorn shook his head, "You are very much like your mother in that way, she was never one to back down even when things were difficult."
"I am glad that I have some of her attributes."
"You have more of her in you than you know."
"Good-bye my friend, hopefully I shall see you again soon!"
He nodded, if I do see you again, you shall not be the same.
Turning to the dwarves, who had also mounted their respective ponies, Beorn surveyed the party. They had food to last them a good month, and water to last longer if they were wise with it. He had seen many things in his long life, but never thought that he would have seen a company of dwarves leaving his house. Rolling his large shoulders, he walked to the front of the group and looked them over again.
He sniffed the air, recognizing the scent of the orcs that had been pursuing the group, he frowned and growled low in his throat. "Go now while you still have the light of day with you. Your hunters are not far behind you."
Kicking their ponies into a fast trot the company moved off, heading towards the forest of Mirkwood and impending doom.
As soon as they had left the hedges that surrounded Beorn's land they turned north-west. By his advice earlier that morning they would no longer be making for the main forest-road to the south of his land. Gandalf had discussed the possibility of using the old elven road, for it was a quicker route through the woods. The main forest road would have led them down the stream from the mountains that joined the great river far to the south of the Carrock. Near this point there was a deep ford which they could use to cross, if they still had their ponies, and beyond that a track that led to the skirts of the wood and to the entrance of the main forest road. Gandalf and Beorn had both warned them against going that way as it was now often used by goblins and orcs alike. From Gandalf's estimation the elven road was both somewhat safer and quicker than trying to out ride the orcs to the main forest road.
As the day's wore on the edge of Mirkwood drew nearer and nearer to the borders of the Great River, as did the mountains. Here within the sight of Beorn's house the goblins and even the orcs feared to trespass.
"The goblins and orcs," Beorn had told them, "will not dare to cross the Great River for a hundred miles north of the Carrock nor to come near my house—it is well protected at night as you well know! —but I should ride fast: for if they make their move sooner, they will cross the river to the south and scour all the edge of the wood. I assume that that is exactly what they intend to do now. They wish to cut you off before you make it to the path. Do not dally longer than necessary!"
This was why they were riding now in silence, trotting quickly over the smooth grassy ground, with the mountains rising darker and darker to their left, and the distant line of the river with its trees drawing closer and closer to them. It was a ride filled with deep contemplation, and many felt their hearts grow heavier as they drew near to the dark line of trees.
Authora spent most of her time thinking over what had happened between herself and the King Under the Mountain. Almost overnight the status of their relationship had changed from frenemies to something she was entirely unsure of. He became more protective of her, at least when she let him, he made sure that if she had watch that she was either the first or the last one to watch over the group so that she might sleep without interruption. There were no more kisses, but when moving around their campsite at night he would sometimes brush up against her hand with his so that their fingers intertwined for a few seconds, or he would brush a strand of hair from her face when it found its way out of her braids.
It was the morning on which they approached the entrance that they woke to an autumn-like mist that lay white upon the ground and the air was chill. As they had mounted up, Thorin had maneuvered it so that his two nephews and she were closest to him. She rolled her eyes, knowing that she could take care of herself perfectly fine, but unwilling to argue with the over-protective dwarf-king. As they drew near the forest, she could feel the despair and darkness leaking out into the air around them, sending shivers up her backbone.
"Well, here is the Elven Gate the entrance to Mirkwood!" said the wizard. "The greatest of the forests of the Northern world. I hope you like the look of it."
"No sign of the Orcs. We have luck on our side," Dwalin said looking up and down the length of the tree line.
Looking back the way they have come, Gandalf glimpses the form of Beorn in his bear form, watching them from a distant ridge, like he had been doing the last few days.
"Set the ponies loose. Let them return to their master."
The dwarves grumbled, and began to dismount; unloading their supplies and fixing themselves packs for the journey ahead. Bilbo wanders towards the entrance, observing the plants and the enormous trees that tower high above him. He scowls at the slime that coats the bark of the trees, and the black fungus that is scattered over the forest floor. Authora watches him, feeling the dread in her heart grow. The forest has changed much even in the rather short time since her last visit.
"This forest feels...sick, as if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around?" The hobbit asked, peering into the darkness.
"Not unless we go two hundred miles north."
"Or twice that distance south, this is by far the fastest way through the woods," She finished for the wizard, who had wandered a few feet further down the shadowy path.
Turning from Bilbo, she hears the voice of Galadriel in her thoughts, though she is not speaking to her, but the wizard.
"Something moves in the shadows unseen, hidden from our sight. Every day it grows in strength. Beware the Necromancer. He is not what he seems."
A great burning eye flashes through her mind, causing the fear to reignite in her heart.
"If our enemy has returned, we must know-
She cut out Galadriel's voice from reaching into her mind. It would only cause more fear if she knew what she was speaking of. Because of her mother, she had been gifted with the ability to speak into the minds of others, like Galadriel, and to be able to hear what other's said. It was both a blessing and a curse, being able to know what other's felt and thought. Most of the time she was able to block it all out, putting up walls so that she could not listen in to what people thought. Thoughts were private, something no one, not even Galadriel should tamper with. Shivering, as if a cold breeze had blown a chill into her bones, she watched as Gandalf rushed out of the wood, trying to appear calm. She can see the worry in his eyes, and it does not bode well for them.
"Not my horse! I need it."
The company looks up from their packs and murmurs in surprise.
"You're not leaving us?" Bilbo asks, turning a bit pale at the thought of the wizard abandoning them at the entrance to a formidable woods.
"I would not do this unless I had to." Gandalf turned to look at Thorin, then glanced back at the hobbit who was now looking quite dejected.
"You've changed, Bilbo Baggins. You're not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire all those months ago."
"I was going to tell you: I...found something in the Goblin tunnels."
"Found what?" The wizard inquires leaning forward curiously, but with a suspicious look in his grey eyes. The hobbit fumbles with something in his waist coat pocket before answering.
"What did you find?"
"My courage," answers Bilbo after many long seconds, looking up at the wizard innocently, and removing his hand from his pocket.
"Good. Well, that's very good. You'll need it." He turns and walks towards his horse, stopping beside Authora.
"Do whatever you can to keep them from entering that mountain if I am not there when you get there, and if you do try to anything to keep the King from falling into the dragon sickness," He whispered to her, giving her a knowing look. Her face heated up, and she looked down at the ground.
"You know that I have no clue if he really cares for me."
"He does, he just isn't very good at showing it without being so outright."
"You know if we do what I'm pretty sure you're implying that we would be married in the eyes of my mother's people." She was scared now.
"Only if I am not at the outlook, there is much going on in this world that could keep me from being there."
"I will do my best to keep them...occupied if you do not make it there, but no promises."
"Good-bye my dear, and may I find you happier than you are now when I see you next."
He hurried past her without another word, having only taken a few seconds to speak to her through her mind, and rested a hand on Thorin's shoulder. The dwarf glared up at him, feeling like he was abandoning them for good.
"I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me," He glared at the dwarf before moving away to his horse, "This is not the Greenwood of old, not even the one that you remember, Authora. Beware of the river that flows through the center of the wood, it is filled with enchantment. Do not drink of its waters, not even to bathe. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion close to the center. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray."
"Lead us astray? What does that mean?" Bilbo whispered to Dwalin and Authora.
"You must stay on the path; do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again." Wheeling his horse around, the wizard shouted one last thing before riding away, "No matter what may come, stay on the path!"
Waving to the retreating figure of the wizard, they stood there watching as his figure became a mere dot on the horizon.
"O good-bye and go away!" grunted the dwarves, all the more angry because they were really filled with despair at losing him. Now began the most dangerous part of the whole journey, though less so for the dwarves than for Authora.
The dwarves grumbled as they filled their water-skins at one of the clear springs that they found near the forest-gate. They distributed the packages from the ponies as fairly as they could, though Bilbo was positive that his lot was wearisomely heavy compared to the other's packs, and he muttered about the idea of trudging for miles and miles with all that on his small back.
"Don't you worry!" said Thorin as they entered the forest with their packs weighing heavily on them all. "It will get lighter all too soon for our liking. Before long I expect we shall all wish our packs heavier, when the food starts to run low."
Adjusting their heavy packs and tying their water-skins tightly so that they might not lose them, they turned from the light of the entrance and the lands that lay behind them and plunged deeper down the path.
The walked in single file, the entrance to the path like a sort of arch leading into the gloom of the tunnel made of branches that tangled together. Ivy grew up the trunks of the trees, strangling them and lichen hung from every available spot to be seen. The leaves that coated the forest floor seemed to be a muddle of black and brown, crunching with their every step. The path was very narrow itself, winding in and out among the towering trees. The light from the gate was like a little bright hole far behind them, and the quiet was so profound that their feet seemed to thump along while all the trees leanded down over them to listen. As the dimness seemed to engulf them, and their eyes became used to the almost non-existent light, they could see a little way in front of them and to either side in a sort of green glimmer. On occasion a sliver of sunlight would have the luck to penetrate the heavy foliage and make it down to the path below. But this was seldom, and it soon ceased altogether as the days wore on.
Using her superior sense of sight and hearing she was able to see further and more clearly than any of the dwarves, thus they made her one of the people in the lead. Her eyes, along with Bilbo's sharp ones, caught sight of the black squirrels that inhabited the wood, scampering to and fro, and watching them from the boughs overhead. They soon got used to seeing things whisking off the path and scuttling behind tree-trunks. There were queer noises, grunts, scuffling's, and hurrying's in the undergrowth, and among the leaves that lay in piles endlessly across the ground, but what made the noises Bilbo could not see. Authora was the only one to observe the animals that scurried over the forest-floor, though she did not say anything about them. They had changed, the animals, they were quieter, less inquisitive than they had been not many years beforehand. It sadden her to no end that her Uncle had not done anything to prevent this catastrophe from happening.
The thing that saddened and disgusted her the most were the cobwebs: dark dense cobwebs with threads thicker than she had ever seen, often stretching from tree to tree, or tangled in the lower branches on either side of them. There had been none stretched arcoss the path, but whether it was because some type of magic kept it clear, or some other reason they could not guess.
It was not long before they grew to hate the forest heartily, though Authora felt more of a sadness than a hatred. The nights were the worst. It was then that even the smallest glimmers of light disappeared and pitch-black darkness descended; so black that you really could see nothing beyond the faint glimmer of the small fires that they lit, if they lit them at all. It was on one of these nights that Authora finally got up the courage to ask something of Thorin.
He had set himself up as the first watch, seating himself cross-legged on the ground and pulling out a whittling knife and a oiled piece of wood from deep within his coat. The others had long since gone to bed, blocking out the insect-like eyes that would stare at them from the blackness. Rising silently from her bedroll, she crept close to the King and sat down in front of him. He looked up from his whittling and nodded at her before brushing off a few shavings of wood. She sat there quietly watching his deft hands work away at the shapeless piece, contemplating what to say. All was still, not a noise to be heard in the vast forests that had once rung with the joyful laughter of the elves with their harps and flutes playing the night away.
She sighed, and pulled on her family braid in frusteration.
"How much farther do you think we have?" He asked so suddenly that she was taken-aback at his abruptness.
"Why do you ask?"
"Gandalf made it sound like you had been here before, seeing as you're an elf and all."
"Half-elven. And yes I have been here before, though it was almost seventy years ago."
"So, how much further till we reach the end of the path?"
"That's the thing, I never used this path."
"Then how did you find your way through all this?" He motioned to the darkness.
"It was not always like this," She whispered sadly, "Mirkwood was once quite green, I remember it being all bright and cheery, the birds singing in the trees, and the animals had little to no fear of anyone just walking by. It was not dark, not like this anyways. It has changed much for the worst."
"That still does not answer my question, how did you find your way through all this, even when it was not so dark?"
"I'm related to some of the elves here, so they showed me how to make my way through the forest, teaching me the secret paths that not even the elves of Lorien and Rivendell know about. I fear that even these have changed, nothing feels the same, there is a shadow that has grown over the forest that I do not recognize."
"So, you don't have more of a clue than anyone else has..."
"No."
They sat in silence for many minutes, him carving away at his chunk of wood, and her staring off into the darkness that seemed to be trying to put out the fires light. The flames licked at the logs, flickering and casting shadows over the forms that huddled close to it for warmth. An animal snorted in the underbrush, and she could hear hooves trotting away in the distance. It was irily quiet.
"Could-could I ask you something?" She started tentatively.
"What is it that you would want to ask?"
"It's not something I would normally ask, seeing as it is somewhat of an uncomfortable topic for most people... but-
She looked down at her hands, which she was wringing together nervously. A rough hand reached out and settled on her hand, stopping her from wringing them, then it lifted to her chin, raising it so that she was looking him in the eye.
"What is it?"
"I-well-umm- oh rhach pe-channas!" She growled looking up at where the stars would be and glaring.
He seemed taken aback by her use of Sindarin*, and was not sure what she had wanted to say, so he remained silent.
"What did you mean by kissing me when we were staying at Beorn's?" She asked, just above a whisper.
"I-
What did he mean by kissing her? He had not really thought about it, it had just been a spur of the moment type of thing. He had wanted to kiss her, now that he really had time to think about his actions. It had been his subconscious that had realized how much he cared for her before his brain had wanted to admit it.
"I guess that I had just wanted to kiss you for a long time before that."
She inhaled sharply. He had wanted to kiss her for a long time?
"I enjoyed it very much." She blinked at him, and had to giggle when she saw his ears turn red and he looked back down at his hands.
Reaching out she rested her hand on his making him jump, "It wasn't just one sided."
She blushed then, and went to withdraw her hand in embarrassment, but he clasped it with his and looked up into her eyes. She could see how confused he was, and even a bit frightenend at their actions.
"I've just never-
"Never like someone before?" She finished.
He shook his head, "After the dragon I never had time to fall in love, or even find time to spend with the darrowdams, I was too busy. I was in charge of finding food for our people, a place to stay. Somewhere where we would be safe to raise our children away from the danger of the world. I was constantly working, there never seemed to be an end."
"It was something of the same for me, though there were different reasons," she said chuckling sadly.
"What were they?"
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reach pe-channas- curse(s) idiot