The three companions stood in a loose circle on the hilltop, the green fields of Chetwood spiraling out into the distance behind them. Below them was a shallow marsh of dark water, alive with water fowl, and before them in the distance was the gate of Bree-town, bustling with travelers and traders.
If any of those at the gate had glanced up at them, it would seem a very pleasant maiden's outing indeed. They could be sisters save that one was touched by the dark tones of Gondor, the second kissed by the bright sun of the Riddermark and the third clearly a daughter of the firstborn, come from across the seas. Despite that, true sisters they were indeed, tied by bonds of oath and love stronger than mere blood could ever be.
But this was no simple maiden's day out, as anyone truly observant could tell from the arms and armor they bore, as well as their stern demeanors. This was serious business as they studied one of the trees before them...a blood red sigel painted on its trunk near the ground.
The daughter of Rohan was speaking with her usual passion, down on one knee and touching the strange symbol, describing what she had beheld but recently in this very spot. The elven woman watched her sternly but the blonde seemed to take her protective glare in good spirit.
"Do not fuss, Xan...I was well hidden, I promise." Cyndwin of Rohan continued, her normally bright voice heavy with import. "If there is one thing I learned as a girl was how not to be spied even in an open field. Anyway, the four brigands came from Bree,,," she pointed back to the distant gates. "They were bearing a strange cargo, wrapped in oil cloth, along the path, and met here beforte continuing. I had assumed they would lead me to their camp eventually so I pursued. They moved off into the hills wandered a bit until they found a stony outcropping...then they waited for perhaps an hour. Quite impatiently, too..they were bickering though I could not tell about what."
The daughter of Gondor nodded. "Their kind always does...no honor amongst thieves. Could you tell what they were carrying?"
The blonde girl shook her head. "No Fille...though it seemed heavy. They had to put it down after a while. They waited for around an hour, when finally THEY came out of the marshes, bold as the brass on the gates of Edoras."
The elven woman raised an eyebrow, arms crossed her armored chest. "THEY, my Horsemistress? Who are THEY? More bandits?"
She shook her blonde head, hair gathered into tight braids..."No dear Xanderian...GOBLINS". The girl, the youngest of the three, relished the drama of her announcement, and it's effect. Xanderian looked away in worried disgust and Fille scowled and kicked the tree they stood around.
The dark haired girl looked around nervously, as if they may be on the horizon again..."Goblins? Why does it always have to be goblins?" Xanderian took her hand in comfort and smiled at her darling Fille who smiled back gratefully.
Cynwind continued, enjoying her retelling. "The bandits and the goblins stood about talking, negotiating it looked like..until finally they seemed to come to some sort of accord and one of the goblins blew a vile sounding horn...which is when he came striding out of the marsh to join them. A giant Orc! The Orc gave the bandits a bag that looked heavy with coin and they gave the Orc the package wrapped in oil skin. I couldn't tell if he looked pleased or not because he had a big symbol on his face, one I heard my kinsfolk describe...a bit white hand print in some kind of paint.
Xan froze and stared at the young Horsemistress. "A hand in white paint...on an orc? It was white? You are quite sure it was white, and not red?'
The elf's voice had taken on a dark edge that unnerved the blond girl who needed a bit hesitently. "Yes dear Xan...I am sure it was white...it looked like chalk."
Xanderian nodded slowly...her voice sounding hollow and far away. "The white hand....the white hand in Bree...Angrenost....Isengard.."
As she sank to her knees, nearly fainting, her mind was elsewhere, far away and long in the past, 100 years previous on the way through Nan Curunir, the valley of Saruman.
The small group had met after Xanderian and her sister Xandilif had left Galtrev and been marching secretly through the valley towards the proud tower of Orthanc for several days, with very clear if somewhat open orders. They were to circle the tower and report on anything that seemed out of place. They were not to enter the tower or it's fabled courtyard, for fear of angering Saruman the White, leader of the Istari Order. There were some voices in the leadership of the free peoples that did not fully trust the wizards secrecy of late, and were concerned that he was pursuing his own agenda in these times of gathering storm clouds.
The five member company had paused by the river to get their bearings in the moonlight...the two elves, the dwarf Thrani, his brother Tharn and a kinsman of theirs, Goren. Maps were unrolled and notes were consulted in hushed tones as Xanderian wandered away from the company a bit...a strange feeling had been growing on her since they first entered the wizard's vale. It had taken some time to put a finger on it but now it had begun to seem so obvious as she watched the dark water rush down the river.
As the dwarves argued she pulled Xandilif aside. She finally came with a grunt of impatience but Xanderian would not be turned aside..."Banshee...I know what has been bothering me."
The armored woman looked surprised. "Bothering YOU? Me too..since we entered this damn forest I been feeling like a warg has been crawling up my backside. What do you make of it, Rian?"
The huntress nodded...a fear growing colder in her heart. "It's the trees, Lif...the trees...they are dying...all of them."
Xandilif stared...it all seemed obvious to her now as she felt the waves of agony through the forest. "By Elbereth, Monk, what could be killing ALL of them? This forest is vast...and old. Old as sin"
"Evil..." Xanderian looked at if she were about to cry, feeling the anguish of the trees..."Evil gnawing at their very roots..poisoning them...changing them..." She wiped her eyes...feeling horribly drowsy all of the sudden...the river water looking so inviting. She took a step towards it, and stopped...this was not the time...but it would be so soothing. What would be the harm?
She shook her head roughly...noting Xandilif also looking with longing at the swift flowing river. A jolt of terror filled her as she fought of the dark urges, turning to spy the three dwarves, their lifeless bodies already being borne away by the swift flowing current. Worse, the woods all around them were no longer deserted as the moonlight now glinted off the helmets of a dozen, perhaps two dozen orcs of a strange and savage demeanor, larger then Xanderian had ever seen, each with an evil hand print in white upon their faces and chests. A sharp boot against her still dazed sister as she swept her new bow off her back. "BANSHEE! Foul Sorcery!!!"
Xandilif seemed to come awake with a start, sweeping SilverWand off her back but they were already surrounded...standing back to back the two sisters met the onslaught. Slowly pivoting in a circle, always back to back with her sister, the huntress fired shaft after shaft, though have of them were stymied by the thick armor of these strange orcs, richocheting harmlessly away. Xandilif was having little more luck as the orcs were clever and mobile...one would moe in to draw her attack then withdraw while another searched for weaknesses in her defense. On and on the chess match continued as more and more orcs arrived, all of this strange, terrifying breed, as the two sisters began to weary. Both bleeding from a dozen wounds now, a score of dear Orcs littered the wood but still more came, always more, ever circling the two, trapping them between their assault and the river.
As her hand found her quiver empty and she swiftly added up the numbers in her head it became crystal clear to the huntress....they were both going to die here.
They would end up like the poor drowned dwarves...and no one would ever know where they had fallen or that this forest was becoming a charnel house. Someone, somewhere had to be told. Someone would have to tell them.
An orc moved in fast beside her, she barely dodged his axe blow and slammed him with her now useless bow, toppling him into the water which washed him bobbing down stream....and she knew what she had to do. Raising her bow to ward off the next Orc she threw herself backwards with all her might against Xandilif, unbalancing her suddenly as with a howl of rage the champion slipped in the blood soaked mud and toppled into the river to be washed swiftly away, despite trying to grab hold of the slick river stones.
"Rian!!???" the champion raged looking back over the water to see one Orc bring a massive club down, shattering the slender elf's bow, the sound of her arm breaking clear to her sister as she screamed her name again..."XANDERIAN!!!! LETHRIL!!!!"
Smelling the blood as the huntress dropped to her knees, unable to regain her feet, a dozen or more orcs moved in...clubs rising and falling as bright red blood splattered in all directions until Xandilif was too far down the icy cold river to see any more, still howling for her sister as she was buffeted mercilessly by the raging river.
After what seemed like forever, one Orc stepped forward and screamed "ENUF!!!" as the blows stopped. "He don't wan it DEAD ya SCUM!" He took the unconscious, broken elf by the hair and dragged her slowly through the dying forest to the roadway, and then on towards Orthanc leaving a thick trail of blood behind, He called out to a nearby warg-rider. "Go ahead and tell Ulkor I have an elf bitch for him to play with...and tell Himself as well....he was right again....".
Through blood clouded eyes, broken bones screaming as she was dragged by the dark hair up the endless stone stairs, Xanderian floated back into something like consciousness as the last thing she saw was the mighty doors of Orthanc closing behind her like a tomb.
With a start Xanderian came back to herself...kneeling in the grass of the Chetwood. Face soaked with tears she looked up into the terrified faces of her companions...as with a dull, numb feeling she realized that in her terror those she love had witnessed those memories like a dark vision they could not turn away from.
With a keening howl the elf looked down, filled with shame and horror, unable to look at Fille and Cyndwin. Immediately they dropped to their knees and embraced her, now in tears with her. The elven huntress whispering over and over again..."I'm sorry...so sorry."
The strange trio remained like that for what felt like ages, holding tight to one another, as the full impact of what happened all those years ago in Isengard, and what they may now face in the coming of the White Hand overwhelmed the two girls on a chilly Bree night.
