Below our camp lay the Gravenwood, and when we first arrived there, I was mightily heartened to see its pines and majestic oaks and many white birches, and from a distance, I thought its tall, straight, good-looking trees suited me. I do not know why it is called the Gravenwood by the Ranger-folk, but perhaps it is because the Wildmen abuse the bark of its trees for their barbarous carvings. It reminded me of my homeland, and desiring to walk under the forest canopy, and listen to the trees’ whispering, I persuaded my guard Telpenaro to accompany me a short distance into the dark forest. It was pre-dawn. The light in the sky was a faint silvery grey, and the shadows were growing weak. None of our comrades had stirred out from their beds, save Laurelindo, who was busily sorting through some vials and packets. Nirhen was standing guard at the northernmost edge of the ridge where we had camped, so I held my fingers to my lips, and stealthily led Telpenaro the opposite way to avoid her unfriendly eyes, and any prying questions. In the trampled leaf-mould, there were signs that orcs had recently passed through, but I could not discern how many, for they were mingled with tracks of strange beasts that I did not recognize. Once again, I wished Lord Belegos would return to us - he would know what to make of them. Taking care to make as little sound as possible, we slipped deeper into the forest. It suddenly opened into a shadowy clearing, and in the middle was an ancient gnarled oak tree, its branches leafless, as though it was the midst of winter. Around the tree’s base were more rude carvings of the Wildmen that severely pained the old oak. My heart did not wish to go, but my head told me that it was sheer folly to remain. So I turned my back on the poor carved-up tree, eldest and noblest of those sad and mutilated woods, and continued northwards.
We had gone far into the woods, when Telpenaro offered me a hard biscuit, cram he called it, which he said the Rangers gave him. Setting my teeth and attention to this dry cake of pressed sawdust, trying to find some taste within, and finding it utterly flavorless throughout, I heard a cha-chung! before I saw the flash of steel, and I was sent sprawling to the ground. At first, I thought a bolt had shot me, but then I saw a large trap of the kind used to snare great beasts of prey fastened to my leg. It was buried underneath a layer of leaves so that I did not see it, and it was snapped shut tight. Every movement of my leg was agony. Telpenaro tried to force the springs down to let the jaws fall apart, but he could not bear down with enough weight to open the mechanism. Then he tugged on the jaws of the trap to prize them apart; he might as well have attempted to tear a tree out by its roots, as much as he budged them. I tried to slip my foot through the trap, but my ankle-bones were too large to pass its teeth and my movements made the jaws of the trap grip even harder, so that I felt the bones in my shin crack, and I cried out with a loud, piercing cry that echoed through the gloomy woods. I begged Telpenaro to hasten away and fetch help; the mighty Lord Estarfin would surely have the strength to do what Telpenaro could not, and tear the jaws of the trap open as if they were made of paper. With much reluctance did Telpenaro depart, but as I pointed out, the trap was chained to an iron ring set far in the ground, and he could neither sever the chain, nor my leg, and save my life.
Shortly after he departed, it dawned on me that perhaps the creature for which the trap had been intended might soon come along, and I was thrown into a panic. I thrashed around, tearing wildly at my leg, but my struggles only succeeded in wasting strength and scattering leaves around, and I lay panting and near sobbing with pain. I felt as a bewildered mouse must feel when it is caught in a trap, for it dashes frantically to and fro, yet cannot get out, and finally its little heart stops beating, and then it dies. And I must confess that my heart quaked to hear the howls of the dark beasts of the forest all around. A cold sweat poured out of me, and I fell to a severe trembling. Time seemed to pass dreadfully slow, so that I thought that Telpenaro must be lost, or he could not remember where I lay. I thought that if I was not torn to pieces by a pack of savage wild animals, I would surely die from starvation and thirst – a lingering, solitary death.
Fear is the worst enemy a wanderer can have when facing danger in the Greenwood. It is fear that robs him of his judgment and of his limb power; it is fear that turns the passing experience into a final tragedy. Only keep calm, and all will be well. So I told myself these words, told to me by my poor father, many-a-time, this terrible day.
It was growing dark and getting colder. The sun was setting, and by and by, the evil East wind rose and began to moan. I could feel my strength ebbing away as it bit through my cloak, and I felt its icy fingers stealing the very warmth from my heart. A chill crept over me, and then a sudden, burning pain shot through my thigh which made me cry out again. I heard a low, guttural laughter. Looking up, I saw a hideously twisted, flat-nosed orc stringing its bow for another shot, slowly and painstakingly aiming so that he could enjoy every moment of my suffering! I drew Steel-Thorn from its scabbard, and with a gesture of defiance, challenged the orc to come closer, and then we would see how well he could aim, missing an arm! It made a gurgling laugh, jeering at me, and spitting out a stream of curses in its filthy language, said that it had never seen a little squirming cockroach such as me. Twice more he shot me, again in the fleshly part of my thigh and through the muscle of my arm.
I consoled myself with the thought that it would not take too much time before my spirit lost mastery of my body, and once the bond was severed full, it would flee far from these wretched lands, and go to the grey and gloomy Halls of Mandos, where it would linger for a very long while, and not be released until the end of Arda, by my reckoning. Then I wailed in despair, as if I were already judged and found wanting!
With the hot tears streaming fast from my eyes, I bent my thought to One who might listen, and swiftly begged Her to hearken to the words of a poor elf, and asked for pardon and forgiveness from all those whom I had in any ways offended, and said that I would not have done such shameful deeds, both in thought and action, but I was driven to it, out of weakness and desperation, and I was heartily sorry; but I must sincerely protest that the fire in the feast-hall was an accident, no matter what others may have said or thought, and that it was all the fault of that accursed fruit bowl, and that I was ever wont to think of good King Thranduil, and wish His Majesty all the goodness in the world, even if he sent me, his most faithful subject, far away from his home to wander, unhappy; and that I had not the least knowledge of the lies spread about me, till they were voiced by all the people everywhere, both at home and abroad; but I had forgiven all who had spoken ill of me, and wronged me: those gossipping Elves of the Greenwood, too many to name in total, deciding to name only a few - those that did most grievously wound me: the upstart Thurindor, the haughty guardsman Lerilon, the eavesdropping Finfelas, the icy-hearted Commander Rodelleth, although she is not of the Greenwood, but worth mentioning anyway, and all the rest: Mandos would know them, and know best what to do with them; but I hoped that these others would forgive me, in turn, and that the same everlasting happiness I yearned for, and wished for myself, I wished for everyone in the world too, even my brother Culufinnel, who hated me, enough to want to ruin my good name and take me back to the Greenwood, where I would live out my days in endless shame and bitterness. I wept at saying these last words, and cried out that I was ready for Mandos to take my spirit away to his Halls, because I had no heart for Middle-Earth any more.
I was mightily startled when I heard a reply! A voice scolded me severely, and told me not to invoke Mandos and to lie quiet and rein in my runaway tongue, lest it carry my wits completely away. I wiped the sweat and tears from my eyes, and lo! Laurelindo and the guard Telpenaro were leaning over me; their faces were so very pale and grim, that I flung my arms over my head and cried out anew, realizing how angry Lord Veryacano and his soldiers would be with me when we returned to the camp. Peeping through my fingers, I saw the body of the wicked bow-wielding orc, black blood pouring from a gaping wound in its misshapen skull, and the great trap was no longer clamped upon my leg, but lay open, off to one side. I watched Laurelindo bind up my leg with a cloth and two sticks, unable to say a word, so dumbfounded was I at being rescued, and half-listening to Telpenaro explain how he managed to borrow a hammer and chisel from the Rangers to smash the spring of the trap to bits. Laurelindo said that we should set out straightaway, and see to removing the arrows at camp. He wanted to carry me, but I said that I was not as a feeble child and could manage on my own, with a little help. It was very slow going, as I had to hobble along on one leg, one arm around his shoulder and the other clutching Telpenaro’s neck, and I stumbled, striking my foot against a hidden rock. The next thing I remember, I was lying on the ground, overcome by a sickening pain in my head and my innards seizing me time and time again with a horrible burning, and it felt as if my limbs were dissolving in molten lead. Laurelindo was gazing down at me with an expression of mingled sympathy and concern, and told me that I was poisoned. Then I fell into strange, unsettling dreams, and I fear I might have said or done something unseemly, because they took away my sword and my eating knife, but Laurelindo urged me to rest quietly, and not concern myself about it, and it will likely all return to my memory, once the poison has left and my wits are settled, or back to their usual state.
At intervals, he encourages me to drink some wretched liquid that tastes of shoe-leather boiled in sour milk, and keeps peering into my face, inquiring how I feel, when it is more than I can describe, but I shall try. I have a pain deep within the bowels, and a pain in the thigh and arm, and a pain in my maimed foot and ankle, and a terrible aching pain in my head.
But all this is as nothing compared to the pain I will receive when the Lord Veryacano lifts his finger to the heavens and proclaims judgment upon me. He has not come to see me yet; he must be too preoccupied with his tasks. Perhaps I am beneath his notice and he will not find out about my misadventure. I hope so. He was furious over my mishandling of the map, and I can only imagine how exceeding wroth he will be, and how he will think of the harshest punishment possible, as befits my carelessness! I will beg for mercy, and admit that I am not as serious and sober-minded as I ought to be, or as he would like, but I shall change my ways forthwith, and I will promise not to slow the company down with my wounded leg, nor will I complain a word, even with this crippling pain in my leg, and my brains burning on fire, and my innards seized with this horrible griping pain, and I will not speak out against his vain pursuit – not yet. And if others in the Valley think me craven, or wrong to not speak out sooner than I should have, I will tell them that it is a very easy thing for those who walk in the sunlight to condemn those forced to travel a dark and fearsome road.
