[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Jemel fought on after hardly listening to the Easterling man’s speech, though she killed none of the easterlings. She couldn’t, she just never found the second or found the place to kill one of the kidnappers. Jemel certainly was no warrior. The scribe had been sent on the rescue to help navigate and to inform the Lady of the Golden Wood if worse came to worse. When she joined the company, Jemel had had no intention of actually fighting, but there was no turning back after she started fighting the easterlings.

Jemel continued her fight with the same Easterling. The same dance they danced, as one struck the other and the defender parried the blow. Both of the fighters tired as their little battle wore on. Jemel knew she couldn’t fight much longer with the risk of certain death looming as each minute and second wore on. Jemel, too tired to go on any longer, gracefully pulled her wooden flute from the pack on her back, and held it high above her head. The stupid Easterling looked up at the flute as she raised it, and Jemel finally got her hit. Stabbing the Easterling in the stomach, Jemel watched with a tinge of disgust in her eyes as he fell. The elf rolled her eyes at the sight of the crumpled man, and turned away, hiding in the trees. She wanted to find Aniram.

~*~

Aniram soared through the sky, above the treetops of Mirkwood as the small battle raged on. Every few minutes the proud hawk would let out a war cry of the loudest measure, urging the peoples of his mistress to continue on. The hawk flew through the forest on more than one occasion to help one of the Elven kind, lending his help by clawing at the dirty humans of the east.

Aniram would then fly back up above the tree line and let the wind carry him in a circle above the battle arena. It was on one of these short breaks that Aniram met his fate. Without warning, the medium-sized predator bird felt a sharp and distinct pain in his wing and side. Someone from below had shot him with an arrow! Aniram tried to stay aloft in the air, or enough in flight for him to soar and not fall down to the trees. This attempt failed as the bird went spiraling down with the weight of the arrow. He fell through the trees, their branches and dry leaves scratching the fallen at every opportunity.

When Aniram finally landed, he became lodged between a thick branch and the trunk of a strong tree. His wounded arm was caught under the weight of the rest of his body, and with the pain wheedling through his veins he could not lift even his light-boned body off of the horrible wound. Aniram sent a panicked squawk through his beak when the distinct realization that he could barely breathe became evident.

~*~

Jemel lifted her flute to her lips, and played three simple notes. The sound floated through the air, and Jemel fully expected them to be returned by a hawk’s call. They were, only the calls were not made in the same tune as the flutes’. Jemel knew what those notes meant, and an expression of fear immediately registered on her Elven face. Jemel sprinted through the trees, calling “Palu ata, Aniram!” bidding Aniram to let her know where he was. A few mangled, choppy bird squawks weaved through the air, until Jemel found the location of her feathered friend. Aniram was stuck in the crook of a tree, between the beginnings of a branch sprouting from a dark trunk. Through his left wing and towards his chest cavity was an arrow, and it had gone straight through his wing and shoulder. Jemel gasped, and climbed up the damp, rotting tree and gently pulled Aniram from its grasp.

Sitting and laying Aniram in her lap, Jemel rocked the small, now weakened body in her hands. She felt tears form behind her eyes, but promised the dying Aniram that she would not cry. Jemel could feel her friend fading, and she stroked his head as she tried to comfort him.

“I pray you always soar through the air where Manwe dwells.” Jemel spoke softly to the loyal hawk, and laid him down in front of the tree. She didn’t know what else to say. One last time, Jemel stroked the soft feathers along Aniram’s neck, as she always had before. “Rest peacefully, valiant and brave friend. You deserve as much.”

Jemel stood and left, and sprinted through the maze of trees away from Aniram’s resting place. Coming to another clearing in the woods, Jemel came to a halt as she ran into Garen, who was speaking to one of the kidnappers, it seemed. Just next to that strange sight was Nuhrive laying Harlon the Fool on the ground before the warriors.

“Yes, I’m back,” Nuhrive spoke. Jemel was utterly shocked. She opened her mouth to speak several times in the seconds that followed, but nothing came out; Jemel the scribe was speechless for the first time in her life.

“What is going on here?” was all Jemel could get out in that moment.