The scout Glorhir looked pale and his forehead shimmered as the firelight illuminated the glisten of sweat upon it. Eliriael gently pressed a cloth dampened with athelas draught to his brow as Annunghil asked him questions.
She had not intended traveling this far into Mirkwood with the others, for she thought their mission seemed a dangerous one. Knowing near nothing about wielding a weapon, she decided only to use the opportunity to take extra provisions and healing supplies to Echad Sirion. From all the Galadhrim and Malledhrim crossing both ways over the Anduin, she knew that there was great need for supplies and any extra healers they could find. After all, that had been why she had decided to return to Lórien, for she could no longer ignore the call of her kin who were in need. She was planning on lending her skills in Echad Sirion while she awaited her friends to return.
Yet, it was her friends who encouraged her to press on with them towards Ost Galadh, and she was glad that she had. The many bags of healing supplies that Annunghil, Vorongwe, and Raolor had helped load into the boats and sail across the river were sorely needed by the Malledhrim. At least in Echad Sirion, the elves were closer in proximity and could receive aid from the Golden Wood frequently. Ost Galadh, on the other hand, was much closer to Dol Guldur than the help of either Lórien or their kin in northern Mirkwood. The number of wounded in the elven camps near Ost Galadh were great and their supplies were fast dwindling by the time their company had arrived.
Looking down at the jar of light green salve in her hand, Eliriael swirled her fingertips over the surface and pulled up some of the healing ointment before applying it lightly to Glorhir’s wound. It was not poisoned, which was fortunate, considering that he had been caught between both orc blades and spider stingers. She would leave the salve and more bandages here at the camp. Even after this mission was over, she resolved to return to Mirkwood with more healing supplies. The medicinal herbs and flowers she had planted the past year around her healing chambers in Lórien would be ready to sprout come spring. There would be much work to be done when she returned.
Eliriael attempted to focus all of her senses now on bandaging Glorhir’s arm. Any time spent observing her surroundings in this place put her ill at ease for once. It was the webbing on the trees that lay thick and spread malice all around them. They seemed to trap approaching sounds in their sticky string and surround those within the Scuttledells with a feeling of no escape in order to catch intruders unaware and anxious. This was only another sickness invoked by the enemy onto the land.
“If you asked me, I would kindle these wretched trees and make them shine like torches. It would purify this realm and send a message to the Dark Tower,” Raolor had said.
Eliriael’s lips turned upwards ever so slightly. Raolor was ever a fiery personality, one born of and for action. Yet, she did not think fire could burn away the malady, for it hung thickly over the trees and land, not within them as Turumor had pointed out insightfully. Only once their enemies were gone would the impurities fade away with them. Eliriael remembered the forest as it once was – it was called the Greenwood for the richness of the flora that flourished here. The great trees that towered around them still carried the memories of those times, though much subdued, and for far longer had they been healthy and vibrant than sick, as they were now. She thought Vorongwë had understood, too, how the life of the land was tied to the trees.
“While the trees cling to life, so does the realm endure,” he had said.
She thought of Eithelmîr, then, in the gardens of Lórien, busily tending the few seeds and plants that she had found and brought back from Mirkwood during a previous trip. With an abundance of fresh spring water and healthy soil, they had been delighted to see the success of the replanting. Plants and flowers that were once well known in the Greenwood, but were no longer seen growing in Mirkwood, flourished in Lórien’s gardens now. This had given Eliriael and her friend great hope. One day, when Mirkwood was freed from the influence of their enemy, the realm of the Greenwood would be restored to its former beauty. A bright determination graced Eliriael’s countenance, as she thought of how she would fight to protect the land, collecting seeds and gardening, as her friends fought beside her with their might and weapons.
Securing the linen bandage with a gentle but firm knot, Eliriael looked at Glorhir, parched from the effort of answering questions. She offered him more fluid to give him strength, which he drank eagerly before continuing to tell his story.
“We followed the orcs from the north…they had her. We tried to surprise them, but they turned on us. Luckily, they lost count of me when the spiders came upon us all. But Gladiel…I do not know,” Glorhir finished, concern flashing across his face.
Eliriael glanced at Celeblhair, who sat beside her and seemed to banter with Raolor as if undaunted and completely at ease in their environment. This scout, she had seen in Eregion and Mirkwood a few times, always traveling alone. She wondered how Celeblhair did not fear for her safety. Did Glorhir’s tale not prove how treacherous these lands were, even when traveling in pairs?
Her thoughts quickly turned to Caethel, who had gone on to scout ahead of them. Eliriael had great trust in Caethel as well as her skills, and knew that her knowledge of these lands gave her an advantage. Yet, she could not help but feel concern for her friend as she observed the pale, wounded scout that lay by her side. In Lórien, she knew that Caethel had been distraught by news of a calamity that had befallen her peers in Mirkwood. Though Eliriael had always observed the demure nature of Caethel, she had never assumed it as a lack of strength or determination. She now feared that perhaps the incident with her Mirkwood friends might have brought Caethel to seek answers and actions on this side of the Anduin. Eliriael only hoped that the young scout’s emotions would not cause her to act rashly or alone.
