Twilight twisted the tall trees of Chetwood, turning them into terrifying sentinels. Each tree was gnarled by time, the elements hacking at them, turning them into beacons to be feared and respected with awesome grandeur. Evening shadows played over them with a pervading stillness, encompassing the trees with further darkness, each tree overshadowed by his neighbours. No sound could be heard; as though the encroaching night time darkness was whisking away all sounds of life and wind; leaving nothing but an orchestra of silence. The woods were eerie and foreboding, promising a night of black fear for any who dared to trespass under their leafy embraces. Yet seemingly, one man was brave enough to step beneath their soft, green canopies…
He was short and stout; a broad sort of fellow, yet broad from muscle rather than fat. Hard work had evidently crafted his toned physique, although judging by his scruffy clothing, tattered from use he had little care for appearance. No, this man’s muscle was for work and practical purposes rather than apparel. The man would be unarmed, but for a single axe, blade notched with use. Swinging the axe down, his purpose in the Chetwood would be revealed, splintering a fallen log into more manageable chunks, preparing them to carry them back to whatever camp he would be staying in. Still, given the cloying atmosphere of the woods would almost choke him, slowing his movements as every sound he made reverberated around the area. He swallowed nervously, telling himself that there was nothing to worry about and that nothing bad would come from being here. Yet nature often had its way and some of the forests of Middle Earth were rumoured to be centres of fear.
Blinking, he snapped out of these thoughts, there would be no gain in stopping his task over flighty rumours and shifting musings. He shook his head a little and brought the axe down once more, slamming it into the block of wood so loudly that the sound echoed. A raven, nesting in a tree above him startled from the noise and cawed loudly and abruptly. It took flight, winging off to some other part of the wood. A bad sign perhaps? Ravens were birds of ill omen were they not? Or was that little more than local nonsense. Either way he found the grip on his axe tightening instinctively and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He was being watched. He was sure of it…
Turning abruptly and holding his axe up in the process, he gazed around, looking for signs of life, yet by now the darkness had encroached upon him and all he could see was blackened shadows in the woods, night swallowing his surroundings, tree by tree. An uncontrollable terror started to grip him and his eyes widened a stinging whiplash of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Forgetting his task, he turned his head, swinging it this way and that, trying to look in every direction at once. Somewhere, close by, a twig snapped. He froze. What was out there?
It was at this point that she appeared. It was as though she had been there the entire time, watching his every move from a perch high up in one of the gnarled branches. Yet how could she have been? Surely he would have noticed her before now? A shudder of fear ran through him. Perhaps she was one of the Fair Folk, an elf from a distant land having come all this way to whisk him from his home? Yet she did not seem beautiful enough. Indeed, she looked quite callous beneath her hood, from what the darkness would let him see. Playing upon his confusion at her appearance, she slid down from the tree, moving with speed, almost wraith like as the dusk shadows played upon her lithe body. Next thing he knew, he had a blade at his throat and her hot breath in his ear. How had she moved so quickly? He felt a strange sense that she was part of the woods and they were conspiring together to bring him down.
“Do you know who I am?”
Her voice was like ice, as cold as the highest peaks of the Misty Mountains in the darkest winter. Quickly, he tried to shake his head, without moving it, given the blade that was set hard against his throat, his Adams Apple bobbing nervously against it.
“I am here to give you a simple choice.”
There was no accent on her lips, just a cold nothingness as though every syllable was a work of art, carefully crafted to leave no trace of its existence. A fast shudder ran through his spine and seemingly she felt it as she instinctively pressed the blade a little tighter into his throat. Although he could not see her expression, he could almost sense the cold smile that crept across her features.
“Call it a chance for redemption if you like. I know you, if you do not know me.”
Darkness blanketed down on them, a veil of warm night that left him cold and shivering. Or was that simply the fear that ran through him? How could he be so cold, yet sweating so profusely? What could she possibly want with him? More importantly…what did she know?
“Die…your cold body will rot here for eternity. Or work for me. Either way…redemption?”
That was it then. This was what she wanted. Instinctively he glanced down at the axe, dangling limply in his hand. But no, she was in too close a proximity, she would slit his throat before he had a chance to do any damage. How had one so small brought him down so easily? Or was it nothing more than his own fear and superstition harnessed by her that had taken him? Either way, it had worked. Lowering his gaze, he submitted.
“I’ll do whatever you wan’ me too…”
Small fingers slipped down and took the axe from him before he could change his mind and then she released him. Slowly, he turned to look the woman in the eye. Woman? She was little more than a girl, a waif of a thing. Yet that slow smile of satisfaction that crept over her gaunt face was one that would haunt him for the rest of his life…
