PART THREE: Be Gone
Driven into a furious temper, Isoldis stormed about the vale of Imladris as a virtual prisoner. Any exit that she tried to make was politely but firmly barred by a doubling of the usual sentries, whilst Lord Mittanyaro became her constant shadow through the turning of day into night and night into day; lingering long hours at a respectful distance to give the Lady some peace of mind regarding her worst fears for his safety, yet always attached. And whilst she could have enjoyed the Lord’s loving attentions upon her under ordinary circumstances, these times were far from mundane and the fear of losing him made her tremble to the very core, driving her temperament to volcanic eruptions regarding the High Lord who had instructed Lord Mittanyaro in his most recent duties.
It was all that Mittanyaro could do to persuade Isoldis to avoid direct confrontation with Lord Anglachelm, although she would voice her concerns to any who enquired as to the state of affairs regarding her lost lute, her missing gardener, her absent friend Arvaryar and subsequently added to her growing list of complaints: her current imprisonment and the terrible distress of having her sworn protector Lord Mittanyaro so near! And whilst none could share her conviction of bewitchment, especially since Lord Mittanyaro was ever present and not the victim of some mysterious vanishing, Isoldis at least found learned allies in the ladies Mirineth and Isilmewen who were willing to negotiate with Lord Anglachelm concerning her eventual release. Alas, negotiations were taking time she could ill afford: It was imperative that she escape the vale forthwith, but how to achieve this end?
Upon the usual gathering of elves to the Halls of Fire, Isoldis spied her old friend and compatriot Gilandros recently arrived in the vale, and knowing full well he was a master of tactical advantage over the enemy, she was eager to pursue him for methods to outsmart Lord Anglachelm, yet, before this could happen events took a desperate turn that none could have foreseen.
A distressed maiden entered the halls carrying a babe in her arms that turned out to be the newborn of Lord Andarne; the mother of the child was missing and the maiden, of governess standing, could only describe the dreadful moments when Lady Malliel had been dragged away by trolls en route to Imladris. Physically overcome with grief and emotion, Andarne wept openly upon the steps whilst his friend Lord Eglanel and the pathfinder known as Relalas took to their horses immediately. Hours of comfort for the maiden, the unharmed babe and the inconsolable Lord Andarne passed until the scouting party returned with news of their findings. The prognosis was not good, and as such a great urgency was felt to amass a greater force for rescue, or at least reclamation of the lady’s body; Lord Anglachelm arriving late in the evening and immediately offering his own personal riders in assistance.
And there! Amid the chaotic scenes of broken hearts and desperate measures, Isoldis’ own fate was illuminated brightly. This couldn’t get much better she thought to herself, albeit that she was about to take advantage of the Lady Malliel’s tragic plight for her own purposes! Lo, may Illuvatar forgive her coldness, but she couldn’t help herself. Volunteering to ride out with the gathering, the lady found disguise among so many, the sheer number of riders and their need for haste enabling her to pass by double the sentries unchallenged, easily freeing herself of those enforced bonds that had kept her locked up inside the vale too long. Beyond the protection of Lord Elrond, beyond the will of Lord Anglachelm and most of all, beyond the omnipresence of Lord Mittanyaro, Isoldis was making her escape! Alas, as her heart felt suddenly elated, and her horse rode swift among the woodlands of the Trollshaws, the most dreadful thought dawned upon Isoldis, to blur her eyes with running tears. Where was Lord Mittanyaro?
Isoldis could not recall his presence for the last few hours err dusk, in sharp comparison to his unvarying watchfulness beforehand and thus, she could only conclude that her beloved Lord had become the next victim of her unspoken curse, vanishing without trace, just as she had warned! Oh, how her heart was wrenched upon this thought, and her anger seethed like primordial stirrings beneath a great sea; the grief that she was shedding openly in flowing tears would no doubt amass into that same ocean, yet none would see the lady weep given that as the riders turned in one direction, following tracks found by Relalas, Isoldis silently steered her horse in another. All too soon she had lost the body of riders beyond a ridge and galloped fast among the thickening trees, losing all sight of the known road.
Without map or guide, Isoldis was facing the unknown, yet her urgency to return to her homelands and consult the Lady Galadriel’s mirror was her last and only hope given that without Lord Mittanyaro...there was only darkness.
