[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The distant glint of Mirrormere flashed across his eyes, awakening him from his memories. He was, at first, almost disoriented by the sudden return to reality, but he recovered himself before his students noticed the lapse. Ambarturion wondered, somewhat anxiously, if Coromswyth had seen it. I must take more heed to myself, he thought sternly. More and more of late do I surprise myself with the awakening…as though I were in truth still in Doriath with the golden leaves above me, and the song of Lady Melian about me. He shook his head once, hard, to drive away the lure of that memory, and stared ahead across the vale.

Their route had brought them to precisely where they were supposed to be, despite his waking slumber. The westering sun was just touching the heights of Celebdil and the reflected light from its snowcaps was glinting upon the distant jewel of Mirrormere. They had taken a slow arc as they moved, changing from the north-westerly route they had begun so that they were now headed almost due north. They had passed the first southern spur of Fanuidhol and would soon come about so that its mighty shoulders would be fully on their left, blocking their view of the lake that marked the beginning of the Dwarven realm of old. Ambarturion hastened his step somewhat, quite unconsciously. He had chosen their route to avoid the dangers that came from Dol Guldur in the east, but their road had brought them perhaps a bit too close to the gates of Moria. The goblins that haunted that realm now had been repulsed, but still they presented a danger to any who ventured through this realm without the protection of daylight.

Seeing that his master was once more with them, Caranbaith quickened his pace until he strode at Ambarturion’s shoulder. He did not speak, but waited until his master wanted to acknowledge his presence. In a much shorter space of time than he had come to expect from him, Ambarturion spoke, answering the question in his pupil’s mind as though he had heard it spoken aloud. “The goblins of Moria will not attack us upon the open plain; not even at night. They dare not show themselves outside their realm in any size of force, for fear of our reprisals. Remember how we paid them for their intrusions when they pursued the Fellowship into the Golden Wood.”

Caranbaith nodded and said nothing, but his brother Megilaes said what was in both of their minds. “They will not send out an army, Master, but there is risk of a smaller band of marauders, is there not? Ever do they harry our borders, spying upon us and doing what small mischief they can.”

Ambarturion was silent for so long that the brothers feared that he would not reply at all. In truth, he was weighing his response carefully, for he greatly feared that their words would prove true. All this day a slow feeling of foreboding had grown upon his heart, and as the shadows of the mountains crawled out across the fields toward them they cast a dark warning upon his heart. “You are right to be wary, Megilaes,” he replied with studied calm. “But if we are beset by marauders I have no doubt that we will be able to drive them off. The goblins of Moria are still reeling from their losses and have been greatly weakened – otherwise they would have joined the forces of Dol Guldur in their attacks upon us.” As he spoke he heard Coromswyth ride up where she could hear their conversation, and he frowned lightly, refusing to look at her. He strode on with the horse at his back, but the lady would not be put off. He began to wonder if she too had felt the shadow of peril that seemed to hover about them.

“Ambarturion,” she said softly, “I do not doubt that you are your students are more than able to care for us should we be attacked by a rag-tag band of raiding goblins. But if there is danger of a more organised assault, should we not take counsel for that while the sun still shines?”

Ambarturion stopped and turned toward the lady. Tall as he was, he had to look up quite a way to where she sat upon her steed. He wondered if she had insisted upon bringing her horse in part for this very reason. “What counsel is there for us to take, my lady?” he said courteously. “We are far from our borders and night is approaching. If we turn back now we would not be safe in Lorien before dark. And if we tarry here too long we will not reach the safety of our first camp.”

It was Coromswyth’s turn to frown this time. “I hope indeed that we will find safety there,” she said, “for I do not like the feel of the wind that comes to us from Moria. It is chill, and deadly.” Ambarturion did not reply, for what was there to say? He too felt the danger in that wind…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They pressed ahead more quickly throughout the rest of the day and reached their campsite as the sun disappeared behind the Mountains, plunging the whole Vale of Anduin into dark. The valley of the Mirrormere now lay five leagues to the southwest, and the eaves of Lorien from whence they had departed this morning some twelve leagues to the south. Ambarturion led them all up a small hill and into a copse. All about the hill the land was empty save for a few scattered bushes, but the trees atop the hill grew in a tight ring about an open space, as though they had been planted as fortifications. Within the ring of trees was a small hollow with a firepit in its midst and a store of dry wood beneath a shelter of woven branches. As darkness rose from the land around them and closed in over their heads they sat about the firepit and ate a simple meal of lembas and clear water. Nobody spoke and they did not light a fire.

In the far west, the sun sank beneath the horizon, and night fell on the Vale of Anduin.