Risen

The swaying leaves whisper to each other on the warm breeze as he weaves his way through the skeletal branches; the rippling growing ever louder as their frustration and anger mounts. Why does he not stop and explain what worries him so? They can feel his anxiety and panic, as he races through the cooling green canopy. He cannot stop. He must not stop. He has risen again.

Celeborn and Galadriel had known that one of the Nazgûl, Khamûl had taken residence in Dol Guldur away to the East and although wary, were content to keep the peace and let the evil lay where it could be watched. An understanding had been reached that the Galadhrim would stay close to Lothlórien and Khamûl would remain within the confines of the fortress. This had been how they had lived for many years. Recently, however The Grey, Mithrandir had been seen in the area and thus Haldir had been dispatched to find why one of the Old Ones walked among them. His brother Orophin had wanted to go, being the eldest, but in this Galadriel herself had interceded. “Speed, not strength is necessary for such a task and none are quicker than your little brother” she had reasoned and Orophin had bowed his acquiescence.

The evening was closing in and Haldir wasn’t keen to cross the river Anduin in darkness. He shivered as he remembered the nights when he and his brothers sat around the fire as their mother warned them of the wraiths that swirled within the mists rising from the river’s edge; a single touch of their ethereal fingers enough to draw the light from their golden hearts until only empty husks remained. He had to put such childish nightmares behind him and concentrate on the task at hand; he needed to warn them of what he had seen. A nagging tightness had started to form in his leg and although he had been running for many hours, cursed at the frailty of his young body. Urgency was paramount, but he would need to rest before crossing the great expanse of water.

Reaching into his pouch for the lembas, he looked around him and as he broke off a piece of the bread and thought of how much his people had to lose. The forest wrapped snug around his shoulders would always be a dark, lonely place to human eyes, whereas to his, the vibrancy and life within swelled his heart and filled him with love. The Galadhrim felt attuned to the trees in a way that humans could never understand; a sense of belonging rather than ownership of the world around them. Yet all would be destroyed; the green carpet stretching as far North as the Grey Mountains would become a river of ash and fire if Sauron had once again taken form. Celeborn would need to talk to Oropher, who had withdrawn to the North, to Mirkwood. The bread had eased the cramps somewhat and he felt a glimmer of hope as the warmth spread slowly through his body.

His head shot up as he felt it approaching, his senses at once alert to the presence that the forest seemed to scream and shrink from. From the East; a rushing malevolence that permeated through his skin and wrapped itself around his heart. Something was tracking him and coming fast. He secured the bow to his back, tightened the leather straps holding the curved knives to his side and slowly rose to his feet. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, battling against the cold terror that gnawed at him, to find a peace within the maelstrom of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. For fully a minute he stood still and silent until at last the fear started to dissipate and he opened his eyes again, wondering what foul creature Sauron could have released that would have such an effect on him.

His eyes slowly scanned the horizon watchful for movement that would reveal the path the hunter was taking, his keen eyes battling against the darkness as the sun edged ever lower. A dark shadow suddenly rose to his left followed by an angry chattering as the cloud of crows announced that what he searched for was closer than he had hoped. He broke into a run towards the river, towards home, not wanting to turn his head and face the evil that hounded him. He unclasped the bow from his back as he ran and nocked an arrow to the string ready for the moment when he would need to stand his ground. He could feel invisible hands reaching for him, the flap of leathery wings as it swept onwards towards him.

He turned and fired, feeling the arrow wend its way through the maze of trees, hungry for soft flesh to welcome it home. A keening cry pierced the air and he screamed as his hands clamped to his ears, dropping the bow to the ground. He fell to his knees trying to shut out the horror of the sound that invaded every inch of him. His stomach twisted and hot bile flew from his mouth onto the ground around him as he tried to shut out the sound. The wail turned to a low growl and as he struggled to his feet, he saw it coming through the gloom towards him.

He had heard tell of Balrogs, but nothing could have prepared him for what now came crashing towards him, ripping trees from the ground and tossing them aside as its dark wings unfurled to cloak the moon. The whip it held shimmered with black flame and it thundered once against the dark sky as it watched him scrambling alone in the mud.

Haldir unclipped his knives and rose to face him.