Gwetheril checked her map again, then looked back at the cliff wall, as if staring at it with enough contempt would by sheer willpower open a path to the other side. Unsurprisingly, her glare accomplished no such thing.
If she’d stuck to the path, she was reasonably sure that it would have revealed a way around, but she doubted she could retrace her steps back. No, her only option was to continue south until she hit the path, losing at least half a day’s travel. Alas for the hubris of ill fated shortcuts!
She pulled her fur wrap tighter around herself against the chill wind, and adjusted her overstuffed pack, ensuring that her large trowel was not threatening to escape.
From behind her, she heard a merry voice half singing, “Greetings friend! This is a merry place you have found.”
Startled, she turned, trowel in hand to smite any nefarious attacker, but then recovered enough to give a hurried bow as she saw instead a smiling Elvish maiden, clad in a dress of green and the gold of Autumn leaves, hair half braided, and flowing dark as tree bark down her back.
Her mind blanked. She was prepared for ruins and stones and trees, not to come unexpectedly upon an Elf more than a day's journey from Imladris. “Perhaps, my lady, but it is not the place I seek.” So much for her dignity, if the first thing she said was to reveal that she was lost, though that was true enough.
The Elf laughed, “Ah I see! What great places seek you, on this fine day?”
Gwetheril sighed, "The sun now sets that rose upon the beginning of my search for an ancient fortress of Rhudaur. Yet as you see, found it I have not, and lost the path." She reddens. "Have I trespassed on a place of the Eldar, my lady?"
Radorneth laughed again, "Trespassed? Nay, you are as welcome to this place as any. I will show you the path, should you like, or perhaps through the night we could seek this fortress still."
Well, she was, in a manner of speaking, lost, so she answered, “My lady I would welcome your company, though I wish not to take you from your own path. What might your name be?”
The Elf smiled again, seemingly possessing inexhaustive reserves of good cheer. “I am called Radorneth, and have no pressing need to be anywhere, what is your name?”
Gwetheril felt her own frustration melt, and smiled to Radorneth, “Well named you are to come upon a lost mortal among the trees! I am Gwetheril.”
For some time the Elf spoke of the butterflies of hue and patterns bright and bold in the great forest of Mirkwood, and asked Gwetheril of her own travels. The Elf made no moves to look for the path, though Gwetheril hinted at seeking it. At long last she asked directly if they intended to tarry there, or actually go seek the fortress.
Finally deciding to move, the Elf wove her way through the trees, a short while later coming out onto the path, not far from where Gwetheril had left it. Struggling to keep up with the light-footed Elf, she nearly laughed, “And I was not so far from the path.”
The Elf let out a peel of clear laughter, “Perhaps not, yet I have seen other mortals, who do not see the path, though they are only a few meters from it." She looked around and added, "The paths here are often unused I think and at times wear thin."
"You give me then an excuse to save my pride."
They walked on with idle chatter, down the path in the growing dark, until Radorneth stopped, listening, though Gwetheril heard nothing.
As the Elf later reported, a troll lumbered down the path, chanting a crude rhyme.
“To crush the bones,
that crunch like stones,
and taste the flesh,
so nice and fresh.”
He hummed tunelessly in between repetitions of his rather pathetic rhyme.
Radorneth pointed down the path, though Gwetheril could still not see the troll. A deer darted past, looking at the Elf as if to warn her. Radorneth greeted the deer with a calm smile, and then turned silently back, motioning the way they had come.
Gwetheril finally heard, and then saw the troll as he tripped over his own feet, sprawling face down in the mud. He called out what sounded like a very foul word, though it was not one in Gwetheril's vocabulary.
“The mud so rude,
Destroys my mood
For tasty limbs
My hunger grim.”
Radorneth looked amused, but continued to step lightly up the path.
The troll got to his feet, and finally spotted the two figures. He screamed after them, “You did this! You with your nasty wet rain!”
Radorneth laughed quietly, but then whispered to Gwetheril, “I think the time for paths is over.” She turned and fled into the forest.
Gwetheril started running after Raderneth, but her foot got caught by a tree root, and it was now her turn to sprawl in the mud. She cried out, but immediately stifled the sound and drew her knife, trying to cut her way free.
From off the path came the sound of the Elf singing,
“Come my clumsy troll,
This way to the knoll,
I’ll show you a banquet
You’ll find more than adequate.”
The troll stood for a moment lost in indecision,
“Two tasty feasts,
My luck increased,
But which the twain,
Shall I attain?”
The Elf sang back,
“Your predicament I see,
Choices causing difficulty,”
Gwetheril half rose, her knife now ready to face the troll, but he lumbered after Radorneth.
The Elf calls, “Go and raise alarm, Gwetheril.”
“Come Troll follow me,
Come now my mighty foe,
Come bane of that fair doe.”
The troll roared in anger and ran after the Elf swinging his large club,
“Eager am I for to munch,
Yet still runs this little lunch,”
He caught up to Radorneth, hitting a tree branch that momentarily blocked her path.
Gwetheril finally got free of the root, and ran after the troll and Radorneth. To whom she could go for aid in the wilderness she could not think, and she heard the voice of the Elf rhyme back.
“Soon, soon, for lunch you may,
Soon soon catch your prey,
Perhaps have me in your pot
Or that may not be my lot.”
The Elf drew her own knife, as Gwetheril tried to cry out and distract the troll. But her voice came out softer than she intended, and the troll took no notice. The Elven maid stabbed the troll in the knee, and leapt over the fallen tree branch. Gwetheril took advantage of his distraction and lunged forward, hitting the troll in the foot and then rolled to the side.
“I told you so my silly foe,
That you should find
This prey not blind!”
Not knowing whether to face Woman or Elf, the troll turned around, blinking stupidly. The Elven maid stabbed him in his stony heart and he fell, wailing.
“My lunch, the crunch!
I have been slayed, I am betrayed!”
Gwetheril kicked at the troll, not trusting he was actually dead until she saw the blood creep, mosslike from its body. She let out a shuddering breath and wiped her blade on the grass.
But nothing seemed to faze the cheerful Elf, and she smiled at Gwetheril, “Now I thank thee for thy aid, you have some skill with that blade."
Gwetheril looked wonderingly at the Elf, who still rhymed and smiled after such an experience. "I thank you, I do not know that I would have lived had I fought alone."
Radorneth said, 'I am certain you would have managed. Shall we return to Imladris? I think perhaps this is enough adventure for the day, and perhaps some other time we may search for the ancient fortress.'
Gwetheril nodded, 'Indeed, adventure enough for the day, and I find myself desiring the feasts of Rivendell, rather than being the feast.'
And, she thought, most important would be to cleanse her mind with some decent poetry. The horrific rhyming of the Troll was possibly the most gruelling part of the adventure.
((Credit to Radorneth for her character's dialogue, and the last Troll rhyme))
