They moved slowly, enjoying the shade of the ancient trees and the soft warble of unseen wrens. Everything was peaceful, but Illeandir was ill at ease. Something was tugging him back, to turn around and flee, but at the same time he knew that Zaharias was to be found if he kept moving forward. He had to press on.

Without the sun to guide them, for the trees, thick with leaves, blocked the sky, they had only their sense of direction to guide them. The forest was kind to them though and they rarely lost their way. When Illeandir was absolutely certain they had gotten turned around in the twisting maze a clearing would open up, showing the dazzling sun and their way. Even though Illeandir did not know where he was going he knew that he had to go west, no matter what happened.

Three days they ventured deeper into Fangorn, moving slowly, but steadily west. Three days Illeandir's uneasiness gnawed at him until he lay awake long into the night, starting at every sound until exhaustion overtook him. He found himself peering into every shadow for unknown threats. The forest was eerily quiet.

The morning of the fourth day Ithilwen confronted him.

"Illeandir, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," came the automatic reply.

"All right, then what has you so strung up? You're worse than a cat in a dog house."

"I don't know," Illeandir said as he scanned the clearing they'd spent the night in. A small brook bubbled cheekily through the middle and disappeared into the trees. A soft breeze stirred the long leaves of the willows trees and sent the grass swaying.

"Are you ill?" came Ithilwen's concerned voice at his side. Illeandir jumped. He breathed slowly to calm himself.

"No."

Ithilwen frowned. He was pale and his hands shook ever so slightly. But, even as she watched him he seemed to shake off whatever plauged his mind. The color returned to his face and his hands steadied.

"Come," he said brightly, "we have a long way to go and Fangorn is not always so kind."

...

Hours later, when the sun was high a feeling of dread struck Illeandir. They were being watched. Ithilwen was walking a short distance ahead, too far ahead for him to reach her if they were attacked.

"Ithilwen," his voice came out hoarsly.

"What?" Ithilwen turned around.

"We are being watched."

Her eyes widened with fear and she froze. Illeandir quickly caught up to her.

"We need to keep moving," he hissed sharply. He'd been foolish to tell her just now. If whoever was watching them was within earshot they knew their presence was known.

"Who?" Ithilwen asked. Illeandir shook his head.

"I don't know."

What had Cúnor always told him to do if he was being followed?

"Keep your ears open, boy. Your eyes won't help you," the ancient elf said.

"Why?" a much younger and smaller Illeandir asked. A bird whistled in the tree above them. Cúnor pointed up.

"Do you hear her singing?"

"Yes," Illeandir replied.

"But can you see her?"

Illeandir searched the tree for the bird, but hard as he looked he never saw her.

"No," he said morosely.

"Your ears are your strongest sense. They can hear what your eyes cannot see so that you may see it in here," Cúnor tapped Illeandir's forehead.

Illeandir listened to the sounds around him. The birds were silent and nothing moved in the brush. Ithilwen's soft footsteps echoed his own. No. Those weren't her feet. They were too heavy. He quickly strung his bow and loosened his sword in its scabbard.

The trees were angry. Why were they angry? Who crept between their trunks?

The harsh bellowing of a hunting horn filled the forest around them. A flock of birds took flight, screaming.

"Orcs!" Illeandir shouted. He saw their hideous shapes darting between trees. He pushed Ithilwen to the ground and fell on top of her as a volley of black arrows flew toward them. The crudely shaped projectiles peppered the trees above them.

"Stay down," Illeandir ordered. He leapt to his feet, arrow nocked and fired at the first shape that moved and dropped again. There was a scream followed by angry voices. Illeandir didn't hear it. He shoved Ithilwen forward.

"Move! We have to get out of here."

Ithilwen started crawling forward. She had barely moved a few feet when a second volley of arrows struck. Illeandir threw himself over her. When arrows stopped raining from the sky he stood quickly and shot at the nearest shape. Another orc fell screaming as the arrow pierced his thick hide and sent him tumbling. Another volley followed Illeandir as he dove to the ground.

Again and again they traded shots. Illeandir would pop up as soon as the thudding of arrows against tree trunks stopped and fire a deadly shot into the orcs. Five times he hit one and three times he missed. His shoulder burned where not long ago he had been shot. The pain caused his last two shots to go awry. He cast his bow aside, knowing it would serve him no further purpose, and freed his sword.

He rose and saw six orcs rushing toward him.

"Run!" he shouted to Ithilwen, hoping she would listen. He ran to face the orcs before they reached him and he was overwhelmed. He reached the first orc and neatly hamstrung it. The orc crashed to the ground with howl and was abrupt cut off when Illeandir thrust his sword deep into it's soft stomach.

The second orc he reached not a moment too soon, his sword meeting it's scrimitar with a harsh clang. Spinning, Illeandir caught the orcs head with his sword. The orc was dead before ever hitting the ground. Another orc slammed into him from the side, knocking the air from Illeandir's lungs and throwing the Elf to the ground.

Time slowed as he fell. Each pulse of his pounding heart lasted a lifetime. The trees above swayed in anger. So many colors filled the forest floor. Bright, leafy green ferns softened the hard blackness of rich earth. Leaves of many shades of brown lay in small piles around the bases of the tree trunks.

He hit the ground rolling. The orc chased after him with a growl. Struggling to his feet Illeandir swept up with his sword. Shock registered on the orcs face. He dropped his sword, desperately trying to hold his insides together.

Illeandir bared his teeth in a gruesome smile and left the orc to die slowly. The last three orcs were upon him, their foul stench filling his head. He didn't wait for them to surround him. Pulling a short throwing knife from his belt he sent it spinning. It stuck deep into the eye of the nearest orc, killing it. The other two, seeing the fates of the others, hesitated. Illeandir gave a battle cry and attacked mercilessly.

He would not die. Not today.

They were dead in a few fierce, bloody moments. Illeandir stood over their bodies, bloody and unrecognizable for the wildness in his eyes. For one fleeting moment all was well.

"Look out!" Ithilwen cried. Illeandir spun around and was knocked to the ground by Ithilwen. His head struck a rock and his vision went dark.

https://youtu.be/6wpPk8qk3uQ

When his sight returned Ithilwen was standing over him with an arrow protruding from her abdomen.

"No!" Illeandir shouted. "No, no, no." His voice cracked. An arrow thudded into the ground next to him. An orc, with its lips pulled back in a sneer, stood a short distance away, Illeandir's bow in its grotesque hands. Screaming, Illeandir threw his sword at the beast. The blade caught its neck. Illeandir ignored the dying orc.

He caught Ithilwen as she fell back, holding her tightly in his arms.

"Ithilwen, look at me, please. Look at me," Illeandir begged. Ithilwen's eyes fixed on his. A small sob escaped her tightly clenched lips.

"You're going to be okay. Please just stay awake."

"It hurts," Ithilwen whispered.

"I know, I know. Fight it please. You're doing great. Hey, keep your eyes on me. No, don't close them. Look me. That's it. Just keep them open."

Using his knife, Illeandir cut her shirt away from the arrow.

"Ah!" Ithilwen cried when he brushed against the shaft.

"I'm sorry," Illeandir said. "This shouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry. I promised to keep you safe." His vision blurred with tears, making it nearly impossible to see.

"Illeandir."

"I'm here. Stay still. I'm going to get the arrow out, okay."

Ithilwen nodded. Tears spilled freely from her eyes. Illeandir's mind raced wildly. How would he get the arrow out? A fire would be disastrous. The trees would never allow it. Even if it meant the difference between life or death.

"I'm going to pull it out. It's one of my arrows so it isn't barbed." He never used barbed arrows, they were messy. He was suddenly glad Ithilwen had been shot with one of his arrows and not the ones the orcs used. Those were surely barbed, if not poisoned as well.

"I need some cloth, where did you leave the bags?" Illeandir asked Ithilwen.

"Where-where you left me."

Illeandir ran as fast as he could and grabbed the first bag he touched. He ran back to Ithilwen while pulling out articles of clothing and a blanket.

"Hey, look," he showed her the blanket. "This is going to help stop the blood."

Ithilwen nodded. Illeandir quickly tore strips off the blanket and wadded them up.

"I'm scared," Ithilwen whispered. Illeandir placed his hand gently across her face, trying to comfort her.

"Here, drink this." He held her head up and gave her a drink from his water skin.

"I'm going to pull it out, it's not caught on anything. Try not to move."

Ithilwen squeezed her eyes shut. She gave a small cry when Illeandir wrapped his hand around the shaft. With one hand around the arrow and another holding a fistful of cloth, Illeandir took a deep breath.

"Ready? Three. Two. One."

Ithilwen screamed.

Within seconds Illeandir had maneuvered the arrow out, tossed it away, and pressed cloth over the wound. It was soaked in seconds. He pressed another cloth over the wound. Ithilwen's screams quieted. Over and over again Illeandir replaced cloth after cloth. The blood never seemed to stop. Seconds turned into hours and his world narrowed to just him and Ithilwen.

Why won't the bleeding stop?

Blood covered his arms up to his elbows. Still more spilled from the dreadful wound. Ithilwen had long since fallen silent. He couldn't remember the last time she made a sound.

"Ithilwen?"

Her eyelids fluttered and closed again.

"Hey, you aren't sleeping are you?"

She didn't move.

"Ithilwen."

Nothing.

"Wen!" Panic set in. Ithilwen opened her star-specked eyes, they were cloudy. "I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?"

Ithilwen nodded, barely. Illeandir smiled tremouosly. He wiped some of the blood off his hand and gently stroked her hair, brushing it from her face.

Whether hours or minutes passed before the blood flow slowed to a trickle, he could not tell. He searched the bags for any herbs or anything to put over the wound. There was nothing but a few dried leaves too far past to be of any use.

"I'm going looking for some things. Will you be all right here?" He gave her a sip of water before he left.

...

The light was fading when he returned in defeat. There were no healing herbs to be found. Ithilwen shivered under the blanket he had put over her before leaving. When he checked, blood was still seeping from her wound. He quietly cursed himself for staying away so long. The wound needed to be stitched, but he didn't dare do it without something to clean the inside.

Ithilwen muttered incoherently. Her face was flushed with heat. Illeandir wetted a clean cloth and laid it across her forehead. With the last of the rags he fashioned a bandage for her, wrapping it around and around her body. She woke once, blearily staring at him until her eyes closed again.

When he was done he kneeled by her side through the long hours of the night. Only in the few hours before sunrise did he sleep. When he woke, he sat up quickly as if startled. Ithilwen slept soundly beside him. He didn't dare wake her. Instead, he set about cleaning up their things off the forest floor.

An hour later Ithilwen woke. Her eyes were clear and her breath came easily, but as the day wore on her breathing became more labored. Fever set in and Illeandir was helpless to do anything, but sit beside her. He talked about anything. He told her stories of growing up in Mirkwood during the darkest times, he neglected to tell her some of the most horrifying tales. In truth, he only told her about the good and being there as the curse was lifted and Mirkwood became wholesome again. Hours and hours he carried on until he fell asleep even as he talked.

Morning came and she barely breathed. The first signs of infection appeared. Illeandir bit his tongue while he changed the bandages. Ithilwen mumbled something.

"What?" Illeandir asked. She muttered it again. Illeandir leaned closer to her. "Will you say that again for me?"

She was silent for a moment.

"Stars, where are the stars?" She started breathing rapidly. Her eyes flicked back and forth under her eyelids. "I can't see them. Where are the stars?"

"Shh, the sun is out. The stars have gone to sleep," Illeandir said. Ithilwen would not be consoled. Somewhere in her fevered dreams the stars were gone.

"I can't see them. I can't see them," she said over and over again. She began tossing and turning. Illeandir pinned her down so she wouldn't tear her wound open further.

"Ithilwen, open your eyes. The stars are here. Open your eyes!" Illeandir begged. Ithilwen opened her eyes.

"You're blocking them," she said. Illeandir smiled.

"I know. They are very bright."

"I want to see them, please." Though her eyes were clear and bright, Illeandir knew she did not know him.

"I will take you to them, but first you must drink this." He held the water skin to her lips and she drank greedily from it. "There. Now I will take you to see the stars."

He would take her as far as needed, to the ends of the world, to see the stars. Carefully he lifted her up and carried her away. She was so small and frail in his arms. He recalled the first time he'd lifted her, sweeping her off her feet and swiftly setting her down again. She had laughed then. Now she slept.

The sun was low in the sky and they were still far away from the clearing they had spent a night in. The one with the cheerful brook and sweeping willows.

"Illeandir?" Ithilwen suddenly spoke.

"I'm here," Illeandir said. Ithilwen reached up and touched his face. She smiled.

"Will you take care of Nara for me?"

"She'll have all the looking after she needs when you return."

"Be kind to her. She'll be angry."

"No, don't say that, please. You're going to live." Illeandir clenched his teeth. He had to force himself to keep walking.

"You tell her that I wouldn't have it any other way. I am glad to have been by your side."

"You will have to tell her that," Illeandir said. He refused to meet her gaze.

"Illeandir," Ithilwen said sharply. "Stop it."

He stopped walking and looked at her. His eyes were hard and cold as stone.

"Don't you dare blame yourself. You find Zaharias, bring him to Gondor, and be there for him. He needs you. You are all he has in this cruel world. When you return to Gondor you find Nara and tell her everything. You are her last connection to everything she knew. Your friends need you Illeandir. Don't abandon them."

Illeandir looked away, eyes burning with unshed tears. Ithilwen turned his face back to her.

"I know what I'm asking is hard, but please, you must protect them. Save them as I have saved you."

"I want to save you," Illeandir choked out. Ithilwen smiled.

"You already have. There are many things I regret, but I will never regret this. Not even as I stand in the halls of Mandos, watching you live."

"How can I live knowing that arrow should have been what killed me?"

"You will find a way, my lone hunter, you always have." Ithilwen's hand fell and she closed her eyes.

"What if I can't?" Illeandir asked her sleeping form.

***********************

This is a good spot to stop.