(Continued from "A Finch's Beginnings: A Man Named Bên: Part the Third")
The dwarves of Gabilshathûr had been as kind as they could be to the both of them. They were given new supplies of food, medicine, and further advice for their safe passage through these dead but thoroughly dangerous lands. But the child's father knew that they could not overstay their welcome; not when the dwarves were as hard pressed as they already were and his daughter's freedom could not be guaranteed. For one day they stayed within the dwarves' stone refuge before continuing onward with great haste, for news had come that other slaves from the revolt had gotten as far as Fasach-larran before being recaptured or killed. The search, however, was not ended. The Angmarim were still combing the landscape, seeking their true quarry.
As he came upon a hunting camp upon the edge of the swamp he remembered the dwarves' words to him:
"Seek not to press the Trév Gállorg overly much for they have long held out against the Angmarim and their reserves in this harsh place are already stretched thin. They will not harm you as they will know you both to be escaped slaves, but they would rather you be on your way quickly and bring them no trouble."
And, indeed, the hunters of Tyrn Lhuig allowed both father and daughter to rest for half a day though they could not give them further aid lest they risk the eye of the Angmarim falling upon their small camp, thus cutting off vital supplies to be sent back to Aughaire. But, further advice was given that shook Bên to the very core. The way out of Angmar towards the Gate of Ost Crithlanc - the way Averill had directed him - was no longer unwatched. The Angmarim had already barred the way with their supporters from the Trév Duvárdain keeping a watchful eye upon the road. But, he had been told, there was another, safer way.
Bên would have to traverse through the southernmost forests of Fasach-larran and then up toward the settlement of Aughaire. From there he would have to pass through toward the rocky cliffs of Ram Dúath and keep to the path until they came to the way out of these blasted lands altogether.
The trek through the forest was difficult. Though it was not nearly as dark as the Valley of Horror, the lightning flashing in the red sky overhead and the howls of wargs and all manner of beast often frightened the child, who could barely keep from fussing within her swaddle. However, Bên had discovered a new sense of calm collectiveness about him. Perhaps the help he had gotten thus far, however little it might be, gave him newfound strength. Or perhaps he merely wanted to have done with all this and taste freedom at last. Or... perhaps he wanted to see what this child's smile looked like outside of Angmar.
Whatever the reason, he held onto his composure until he came, at last, to the village of Aughaire. The clan hunters and guardians allowed him to pass through their gates and gave him a place to rest and a direction in which to go. But few spoke more than a few words to him and their Chieftan, Crannog, deemed that they must be away within half a day, for he had no wish to keep about the clan anything that Angmar might want back. And, Bên reasoned, that was fair enough for them.
After half a day, they set off again, following the winding path southwards.
Upon the way, Bên noticed his daughter peeking out quietly towards the side of the path. When he looked that direction, he noticed something green and something blue, reflecting the light, peeking through a gap in the rock. In that moment, he was as entranced as the child and gravitated toward the side of the path until he stepped through the gap... And the sight he met upon the other side filled both man and child with abject wonder.
Trees with thin leaves. Leaves! Living, green leaves! And pure, clear water flowing down from the tops of the cliffs into a pond and small river. Never in all his remembered life had Bên ever seen water like this!
Though he dare not venture too far in, he found himself descending the smaller cliffs slowly until he found a high point above the water in which he could sit and just watch how it flowed and splashed and rippled, reflecting the clouds in a blue sky up above. The child looked about herself, taking in the new sights and sounds and, Bên noticed, she looked oddly at peace.
They stayed there in that place for the better part of an hour until Bên was reminded of his responsibility when he heard a screech from down below. A pair of women - no, these were fearsome merrevail with leathery wings and sharp teeth and claws, like some beast - emerged on the path down below, fighting with each other over some foul piece of meat. Bên stood and quietly slipped away, back up towards the path leading south.
...
And, when at last they came to the tunnel, he felt that same sort of apprehension come rushing back again, filling his heart with doubt and despair. This was not the way Averill had told him to go from the start. Would he still be able to find his way from here? Even when he stepped forth into the land on the other side, he would not be free. Not until his task was done. And even then--...
He felt a small hand pat him lightly on the cheek. Looking down, he stared into his child's eyes, so much like her mothers, yet, without the fierce burning fire of defiance, and green much like the leaves of those living trees. Again, Bên felt his fears and misgivings dissipate, making way for that strange tugging sensation in his chest. The corners of his lips twitched upwards once. Then twice... He then smoothed the child's short, thick hair, raven-black like his own, back and tucked her arm back into her swaddle. With a deep breath and renewed stamina, he stepped forward and descended down the path of the tunnel.
On the other side man and child were, again, struck with a sense of wonder at the sight of so many living things and a land mostly free of the perpetual stain of darkness.
Here, in the North Downs, they found that they could breathe easier. But only just.
Their journey was not over. They were not safe just yet.
