The  arrows flight was true, through the undergrowth as if the winds were  not present or affecting its path as it thundered into the knot in the  thick bark of the elm. A following shot was somewhat different, as it  arched out of its desired path, glancing off a branch and missing the  elm entirely as it disappeared into the dense undergrowth. Her aim was  far from that of her teacher, but his was tuned over many a century of  practice, he aiding in straightening her arm, as she fired once more.  This time finding the elm, yet a little below the knot, which he had hit  with ease. 

 

He smiled, and taped her on her shoulder consoling  her for the missed shot, her frustration as clear as the skies over Ered  Luin. Sighing deeply with frustration, she picked up her things ready  for the walk South towards the Narrows and Rhosgobel. There was quiet a  journey before them from their home in the mountains along the Enchanted  River. Yet they kept up the fast pace, and travelled with haste, as  Pilinír’s skills for finding a path through the Greenwood were as sharp  and accurate as his aim.

 

As night fell, the forest itself seemed  to enclose around them. The darkness amongst the branches, seeming to  clasp the branches forcing out even the bright nights sky above and the  stars and heavens, which from the treetops were so clear. The leaves and  the night’s sky seemed to become distant under the enclosing branches  above with a darkening spirit of its own. Pilinír positioned a few  stones, and prepared some twigs for a small campfire and looked over to  his daughter who was once more clutching her bow. Pulling it taught as  if to fire, yet with no arrow, she just held it for the feeling against  her getting used to its extending power. Pilinír smiled and handed over  his quiver to her, its fine interlocking leaves and golden bonds from  the expert artisans from their home, far to the north in the Woodland  Realm laying along the Forest River near Esgaroth. 

“It won’t fire without an arrow young one” he commented as he smiled to her.

She  took an arrow from the quiver and held it in the bow, feeding the  string to the notch preparing to fire, she concentrated on a knot in  tree trunk some fifteen yards distant. Pilinír returning to preparing  the fire. She looked with further concentration on the knot, the wind in  the leaves, and the flow of the essence of the land.

 

The arrow  flew and glided; heading to its target yet as its path neared its  target, it veered to the right and clipping the thick bark, much to her  disappointment with a long sigh, as it swung into a dense twist of vein  and ivy. The dense undergrowth then screamed in pain, and anger and  leaves, branches flew through the air much to the young elf’s surprise. A  very angry hobbit comes hobbling out from the undergrowth clutching his  pants that were half down his legs, and clutching an arrow stuck in his  posterior.

 

As the hobbit hobbled towards them, yelling a varied  collection of insults to the two eldar, Pilinír quickly covered the  young elf’s hears to try to shield her from the hobbits anger while  trying to calm the angry fellow. She raised an eyebrow in shock at  shooting the little fellow and at surprise of his language toward them,  making her puzzle at some of his words.

 

Slowly the angry fellow  began to calm down, and over tending to his wound, and introducing  himself, and his daughter to the hobbit, whom was named Mungo Sandybanks  who it seemed was travelling from Frogmorton far to the West in the  Shire on some kind of search for varieties of fungus, or ‘shroom as he  kept referring to them. Calming they continued to talk, and the hobbit  seemed very pleased to share to eat his way through a lembas bread which  Pilinír offered him as they exchanged tales.

 

Untying the tightly  wrapped leaves around a lembas and breaking off the corner, Pilinír  handed it to his daughter who sat clutching her bow on a small tree  stump beside the fire. Slowly she nibbled at the lembas filling her  stomach for the next day’s travels with plenty of food, while Mungo kept  on wittering about not having enough to eat even after his third  lembas.

 

The young elf nestled into the foot of a large mallorn  tree and looked up at the towering branches above and drifted into deep  meditation removing the sound of the hobbits complaints while her mind  drifted to other thoughts. The journey with her father before them, the  nature of the winds on her arrows, and also the tales of distant snow  capped peaks and open lands or many a tale she dreamt of seeing.  Suddenly the sound of the hobbits broke her meditation and she opened  her eyes to the early morn as Mungo poked at the fire as he quickly  forced down yet another lembas. She could merely scowl at the hobbit and  his pack pilfering from their supplies. Pilinír looked over at her and  smiled, 

“We have the Greenwood to provide for us, we have no need  to not share with the little folks”. She nodded her acceptance while  keeping an eye on the hobbit as they packed up their things and began  the journey heading south once more. Mungo trailing behind them as they  travelled yet making his presence sound like a battalion of dwarves from  the noise of his tales of the wonders of Frogmorton, and what  ingredients make a good pie. Surely, from the noise he was making they  could hear him in the Lonely Mountain.

 

The trees were once again  growing ever darker and the bright afternoons light from the daystar was  being blocked out as they continued pressing onward to the south.  Suddenly Mungo went quiet as a small bright light flickered off the  path, in a small clearing. No missing a chance, he quickly ran through  the shrubbery, and onto the small clearing. Dark clouds oddly hung  overhead, yet he was more focused on the strange glistening amongst the  stones in the clearing. Clearing some of the long grasses, and  overturning a stone, he held the object to the light and cleaned the  dirt off a very old amulet. It’s bright green centre gem glistening, and  the darkened shine on the bright white metal surround shone in the  little light. Smiling to himself he admired his handy work, 

“This  should get a nice price in the Michel Devling auction house,” yet  before he could finish his shining of the object something grabbed at  his leg. Screaming he looked down to see a hand come from the ground and  clasp his dirt covered feet. Kicking for freedom he tried to make a  break towards where the elves were. More hands came from the ground,  grabbing at his feet. Mungo kicking and screaming as two glowing white  arrows struck two of the hands coming from the ground allowing Mungo to  make haste towards the elves. The young elf clutching her bow ready but  being pulled back by her father. As they made back away from the  clearing with haste.

 

The trees seemed to be coming alive, shadows  moving between them, light distorting and deceiving the path. Another  clearing lay before them as they made forth over it towards a brighter  looking path on the far side of the clearing. Midways across, Pilinír  paused and fired a couple of glowing elven star arrows into the woods to  a great groan as something unseen was hit. The leaves burst forth as  staggering undead stumbled forth. Armour and decayed flesh hanging from  their bones they staggered forth. The young elf tried to fire a shot,  hitting one of the wights as they advanced but not even slowing it in  the slightest as it continued stumbling toward them. Pilinír pushed her  back towards the light path away from the clearing. She moved with haste  towards it, as Mungo ran out of sight down the path and disappeared  into the undergrowth. She paused and looked at her father as he quickly  turned to her between volleys of shining arrows shattering the wrights  advance. 

“Run!” he shouted, before quickly turning once more to  the advancing undead. Firing arrow after arrow through the amassed  wights. Some being pierced right through and bursting in flashes of  light. Others crumbling under the thundering shots into them. 

“Caela ie'lle!” he shouted, his side arms slicing at hands coming from  the ground beneath, clutching at him. A wall of wights advancing almost  endlessly toward him. His daughter turned and looked back quick as she  fled the clearing, seeing a mass of grey advancing, the sky darkening,  the light being absorbed by the mass of death advancing like a wave on a  lake shore. 

 

She ran through the forest in a flight of  desperation, barely seeing the surroundings around her in a blur as  branches and leaves just being a dense greyness around her. Tears  rolling down her cheeks as she ran, eyes in the darkness seemed to focus  upon her. Branches seemed to be knitted together, strange dense webs  clung together the branches yet with her speed, she kept pushing  forward. The webs and branches scratching and clinging to her hair and  clothing, yet she pressed onward. The darkness of the paths slowly  lightened as she ran free from the darkness leaving the cover of the  Greenwood and into some long grasses.

 

She slowed and turned  behind her viewing the darkness where it seemed as though hundreds of  eyes were upon her. Turning back, she moved forth towards a small  stream. Collapsing onto her knees, and looking at her reflection in the  ripples of the waters.  

Taking the dagger from her side, she  looked into the small stream before her. Sadness in her heart, she  looked at her golden hair tasselled back with debris clinging to it, and  tied around a small wooden carved ornament. She held it up, and ran her  hand through it, brushing through webbing from the run. Taking the  blade, she cut her long hair short freeing it from webs and leaves that  clung to it from her departure. Strands of golden hair falling with the  breeze into the stream as she peered into the waters watching how it  twisted and turned much like the days it seemed. How would the days to  come also tumble over the rocks and flow of the reeds, being quiet the  unwritten path over the rocks in the bed of the stream that it is?  Losing herself in the foresight of the rivers path. 

 

Looking up  from the stream, her eyes looking deep across the Vales of Anduin lying  before her, and the Misty Mountains towering in distance to the West.  Turning and looking back at the forest that had always been her home yet  was now filled with feelings of the deepest sorrow and mourning. A  burning to be able to return, and remove all those whom brought darkness  to the Greenwood enraged her young heart against her teachings. She  gave a deep breath, as a tear ran down her cheek and dripped into the  stream. Her burning eyes peered into the forest, before turning away,  and strode forth, hopping with precision from boulder to boulder over  the stream. 

 

A new path where the leaves of the Greenwood would  take her in her heart to the West, she will return, but today was not  the day. Yet that day will come...