Earwen slept on a bed of her own wast length hair. Her sleep was not sound for she was laying upon a cold, flag stone floor of the Dark Lord’s tower. She tossed a turned until finally, she awoke. Earwen lifted her arms above her head and and stretched out the nights aches and pains. Her eyes were those of the finest sapphire, her hair a gold of the deep caverns of the dwarve’s mines. Her face was as though it were carved of marble. Her flawless pocelain skin glowed in the moonlight as she stood and glided to the door where she waited for her morning meal. She had a plan.
Hours passed and no sound of the taunting jingle of the guard’s keys were detected by her pointed ears. A sigh escaped her lips. Many more hours passed. Father Time seemd to be teasing her, intenionally slowing his pace. Just then, a bowl roughly fashioned out of bread, filled with the slop that they called breakfast, and a wooden mug of water, was shoved through the ‘dog door’ of sorts into her cell. Her head snapped up. She pounced on the door in a flurry of wavy golden hair and tattered rags. Just as he let it swing shut, Earwen wrapped her fingers around the edge of the door. She pried with all her strength, for it was mounted on springs encased in spells of binding and trapping; strength and fortitude.
She peered through the hole and saw that the guard had already gone. The small door was just big enough for her to slide her head through, then her body and finally her legs. Earwen stood and carefully picked her way through the darkness, slowly making her way down the seemingly endless stone winding staircase. Presently, the heavy thud of Uruk-Hai feet could be heard further down the hall. She quickly ducked around a corner. The large Uruk was just level with Earwen when she leaped from the shadows and tackled him. She swiftly brought the Uruk to his knees and snatched his scimitar before quickly and cleanly sliced his head from his shoulders. Earwen let the body fall in a bloody heap and dropped the scimitar before running silently down the remaining steps.
She burst out of the tower and ran as fast as she could away from the Dark Lord and his tower. Many times she spotted armies of orcs and others but always seemed to avoid them with the greatest of ease. She found a path through the mountains and slowly trekked back towards the direction that she thought was Mirkwood, her home Wood. Days later, she found herslef running through rich orchards and wild flowers; large grass fields and fair wooded lands. Earwen ran and ran until her legs could carry her no longer. She stopped to rest at the edge of a brook where she dipped her head into the cool brisk water to wet her hair and wake her up.
Just then, she heard a sort of hissing and felt a metalic tang in her mouth. She crept up to a slender tree and hid behind it. She poked her head around the side of the tree and found herself looking over the edge of a slight hill. A little bit from the base of the hill, she could see a small black and flickering red figure leaping with enormous bounds towards the hill. It’s rolling gate ate up the distance between each step with an unwavering appetite. Flames belched from it’s mouth as it howled. The howl was that of a person in their last moments of life, underlaid with the screeching of nails upon glass. Earwen cringed at the sound of the howl. As the monster approached, she could make out more of it’s shape. It was man like, though slightly taller, with long arms dragging down near it’s ankles and it walked with a hunched back. Earwen noticed that it stopped once to test the air. She could feel it’s attention fix on her, not her physical body, but her very essence. It turned towards her as it smelled the life pulsing within her and quickened it’s pace. It was like watching a race horse’s muscles suddenly tense as it pushed from a walk to a full gallop.
She suddenly changed from mearly curious to mortally fightened of this beast. She anxiously looked left then right, like a rabbit being pursued by a dog. Earwen felt a searing heat explode in her head. She gasped and writhed in pain. She found herself trying to scream, but it got choked in her throat as she tried desperatly to focus her vision through all her pain. Her eyes squinted through her lids at the bottom of the hill. The hot metallic tang grew stronger and stronger. It brought bile to the back of her throat and just added one more thing for her to try to keep under control; her stomach. She ducked back behind the tree and watched the monster approach. The flickering red, she noticed, were flames. They raced like burning oil on water along it’s skin and left a trail of red and orange on the ground behind it.
The monster rolled through the trees. Earwen panicked. It came closer and closer. The sickness invading her stomach was overwhelming, but she quelled it as well a she could. Just as she bent to empty her stomach, she noticed a gleaming blade laying peacefully in the grass next to her. She calmed herself and grasped the hilt. The metal beneath her hand was cool and decorated with the vine and leave motife of the Elves. A shining blue jewel was mounted on the very end of the hilt. Earwen could feel the Elvish magic pulsing within the metal of the sword. She did not have long to gaze at the sword before the demon was upon her. She held the sword infront of her in the guard position she had practiced in Mirkwood many years before her capture. Flames dripped from the deamon’s claws, feet, and mouth as it approached.
Earwen saw the bloodlust in the monster’s eyes as it came around the last tree separating it from her. It howled in triumph as it saw his prey come within his grasp. The creature reached out a four taloned hand. Earwen swung her sword and silver sparks exploded from where the blade clashed with the monster’s flesh. It screamed and pulled back it’s hand. The demon flared it’s flame engulfed nostrils at her. The beast lunged at Earwen with arms out streatched. She swung again and metal met bog clay and magic infused flesh. She felt the spirit within the monster waiver as it realized the power within it’s oponent. It quickly regrouped itself and lunged again. Earwen parried skillfully and slashed back and forth at the monster’s abdomen. More sparks rained down on her. She jabbed the sword at the monster again, but the beast was prepared. It predicted her move and reached an arm out. It grabbed at the sword blade with one of it’s hands and pushed against her, forcing her to back away. The creature saw it’s opportunity.
It reached forward with it’s other hand and slashed at Earwen’s unprotected stomach. The demon’s claws only scraped her, but left suprisingly deep gashes in her side. She winced and screamed in pain. Earwen dropped the sword and flung her uninjured arm infront of her face to protect herself. She began to pray to the Valar that she would live. The creature slowly advanced upon her. She gradually repeated the prayer louder and louder. In one last valiant effort, Earwen picked up the sword that lay flickering at her side. She screamed defiantly and swong the sword with all her might, funneling all the pain and rage into her sword arm. The creature was caught off guard by her sudden surge of strength and it faltered. Earwen seized the moment and aimed her swing at the base of the neck. Her swing fell true and cleanly cut the head off of the monster’s flame charred sholders.
Earwen heard a high screeching voice, like that of hundreds of parrots screaming at once. It shouted furiously at her…
“Thralk will have his revenge on you, Angama…”
The rest of what the receding spirit had to say was lost to gurgling babble as the physical form disintegrated and the spirit left the body. Earwen sighed and dropped the sword from her limp hand. She looked around slowly and staggered to a near by tree. There she collapsed at it’s base and the cool greens of the leaves blended with the warm colors of the setting Sun. Finally came darkness and the last she saw was her blood covered hand laying limply in her lap.
We return to the forests again. Our hobbit friend has lost all faith and finds the true meaning of apathy by the end of this chapter. He is taken captive by a band of elves and one human. This chapter suggests that some of his past will be revealed soon.