"No, Gracious Lady. Alas, I cannot. My orders are to take you onwards."

14th August/Urui T.A 3010, High Pass, Misty Mountains

Anberenien could not remember how many days she had been in the mountains. She was only let out of the box when the priests fed her. Her captors gave her a thin watery gruel that staved off starvation but gave her no strength. During meal times, Nuta sat before her eating bread and fruit. She would offer Anberenien some, but only if she would repeat the phrase: "Hail Melkor! Hail the Great Master!" When she remained silent, Nuta cruelly beat her.

But after the beatings, Anberenien was still defiant. Still refusing to speak the words. However, her battered and bruised body was becoming frail and her limbs ached with the pain of being contained within the box. Her wrists and ankles were red and bruised, and her once rosy lips were now chapped and sore. At night, Sauron would come to her in dreams, demanding she swore fealty to him and give him the information Bilbo had told her. Anberenien wondered how long she could endure before she gave in to their will.

Nuta and her priests had taken over the pony cart and all their goods. They even wore the clothing of the caravaners. Nuta, now dressed in the clothing of the trader's wife, and Anberenien suspected that she too had been slain. One day, as she lay in her small dark prison, she felt the cart slow.

"Who goes there?" said a gruff voice.

"We are but simple traders making our way back to Dale," said Nuta.

"You don't sound much like a Daleman, you don't look much like Dalemen either,"

"I can assure you we are residents of Dale returning home before the winter comes," said the priest firmly.

"Let's see your coin then."

"How much is the toll then, sir?" asked Nuta.

"Usual price, two gold."

"That is more than last time!" replied the Priest.

"There are more Orcs on the road of late, even in daylight. You will need an escort. "

"We have no need of an escort. We have guards. One gold coin will suffice. Take it or leave it," said Nuta.

"We do not negotiate with strangers, two gold coins or the price goes up!"

"It must be a Beorning," thought Anberenien.

She remembered them from Bilbo's tales of his journey to Erebor. The Beornings guarded the High Pass of the Misty Mountains, charging high tolls to those passing through. Their lands spanned from the Eastern side of the Misty Mountains to the eaves of the dark forest of Mirkwood. Beorn, a man who Bilbo said could turn into a great black bear, had been their lord. He had long since passed, but his kinfolk were still rumoured to be able to turn into bears as well.

The Beornings and the Priests continued their heated negotiations. "If you will not agree to our terms, you can turn back. Perhaps a friendly Elf will invite you to winter in Rivendell. But you will not pass here unless you pay the toll, and the price is rising!" There was silence for a moment, then Anberenien heard the sound of a horse's hooves galloping nearer and then drawing to a halt. "Search the cart!" called Glorfindel's voice. "By whose authority?" demanded Nuta.

"By the authority of Lord Elrond of Imladris. I believe they may have knowledge of his missing daughter!"

"There are no Elves in our company," replied Nuta.

"The lady is no Elf. She is a Dúnadan, adopted into his family," said Glorfindel.

"Perhaps a search might satisfy Lord Glorfindel. We might be prepared to drop the toll slightly," said the Beorning.

"You have delayed us here on purpose!" said the priest.

"We will pay you what you ask and will submit to an escort if we must, but we do not agree to a search. Our cargo is valuable and precious and we do not wish it to be interfered with," said Nuta.

"She is lying. I insist that you search this cart. These folk are not who they say they are. I found the bodies of the original company lying dashed upon the rocks several miles from here!" said Glorfindel.

At once, she heard blades being unsheathed. "Let us pass or there will be trouble," said the priest.

"I think it is a little late for that," growled the Beorning.

Anberenien heard the blast of a horn and Glorfindel called out. "Look Orcs!" and listened to the familiar rasping sound of the fowl creatures. The cart shook violently as the Orcs swarmed over it. Their growls and jeers drowned out any other sounds until she heard a bear's growl directly above her. The pony neighed in distress and the cart slowly began to move.

Above her, Anberenien could hear the Orcs attacking the bear as the cart was getting faster and faster. She heard Nuta shouting for someone to stop the cart and tried in vain to release herself from her bonds. The cart suddenly dropped on one side and she realised with horror that the box was tilting. She let out a muffled scream as the box spun uncontrollably before landing with a hard thud and breaking into pieces. Anberenien blinked as she stared up at the bright blue sky.

She lay there dazed for a moment, before pulling herself up to sit. Anberenien was on a thin ledge. The contents of the cart scattered about her and hanging just above her from a branch were her blades, still sheathed within their belt. With great difficulty, she manoeuvred herself under the hanging blades. But had no way of reaching them. A thought entered her mind. If she could break things without meaning to. What could she do by her own intention? She looked at the branch, Willing it to snap.

At first, nothing happened, and she sat back, defeated. Then there was a loud crack. The branch snapped, and the belt fell into her lap. With her hands still bound, Anberenien managed to pull one blade from its sheath. Holding the pummel tightly between her knees, she slid the ropes along the blade until they were cut from her bruised wrists. Her hands now free, she removed the gag and untied her legs. Sheathing the blade, she attached her belt and staggered to her feet.

Looking over the ledge, she could see the wreckage of the cart and the pony's body. Above her loomed the mountains and the edge over which the cart had fallen over. It amazed Anberenien that she had not been injured by the fall. The skirmish was still taking place above her. So Anberenien looked through the surrounding debris, taking anything she could find of use to her. She found her pack, empty of its valuables, a little stale bread and a leather flask of small beer. She did not know if any of it was tainted, but her starving belly urged her to take the risk. After eating a little of both, Anberenien loaded her pack with whatever she could find. Then someone coughed behind her.

Anberenien turned to find Nuta standing behind her with an outstretched hand. "Surender your weapons, Sweeting. There is no way you can escape." She tried to grab Anberenien by the wrist, but she pulled away and stepped back towards the edge of the ledge. Suddenly, a bird of prey swooped down. It clawed at Nuta's face, causing her to back away. As she desperately fought off the assailing creature. Anberenien looked about her for a means of escape, noticing the rope that Nuta had used to climb down to the ledge. A shadow crept over the ledge and she heard the sound of wingbeats above her. But before she had the chance to turn, an enormous claw grabbed her by the waist and took her up into the sky.

Anberenien was too terrified to scream, but below her, she could see Glorfindel and several bears fighting the Orcs. Finding her voice again, she called out to him desperately. Glorfindel turned with a look of wonder as he saw her. Before the great winged creature turned and bore her away. Nuta's screams still ringing in her ears.

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15th August/Urui T.A 3010, The Eastern Foothills, Misty Mountains

Anberenien felt blades of soft grass between her fingers. She was back on the ground but too scared to open her eyes for fear of seeing the terrifying creature that had taken her off the mountain. She feared that she was in some kind of nest where giant baby creatures would soon tear her apart. "Are you recovered, Gracious Lady?" came a deep but soft voice. The only other person who had called her that, had been Glorfindel. But this voice sounded nothing like an Elf. Slowly, she plucked up the courage to open her eyes.

It was night, and the deep blue sky was a cascade of stars. Anberenien slowly sat up and surveyed her surroundings. She was in the foothills on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains. Large pine trees grew all about her, just like the pine woods on the outskirts of Rivendell. As she looked about her, Anberenien discovered the owner of the voice. A Giant Eagle was perched on the ground nearby. Afraid, she tried to move away, but her legs were still weak from her time in captivity. "Do not be afraid, Gracious Lady, I mean you no harm."

"You are not going to eat me, then?"

"I should think not. I much prefer the taste of sheep, besides you and I are kindred of a sort."

"You mean you are like me? But you are a bird!"

The Eagle cocked its head to one side. "I am no mere bird! I am Meneldor of the Great Eyries of the Misty Mountains. And well known to your father, Lord Elrond and others."

"My apologies. I did not mean to offend."

"No offence was taken, Gracious Lady."

"Did my father send you to find me?"

"He did not, Gracious Lady. But I cannot say who sent me. I have my orders." Meneldor looked up at the sky. "We cannot remain here for much longer. Soon it will be dawn. Climb onto my back. You will find the journey more restful."

Anberenien slowly got to her feet. The muscles in her legs ached as she stumbled towards Meneldor. After an initial struggle, she managed to mount his substantial body and nestle among his warm, soft feathers. Immediately, the Eagle took flight. "Are you taking me back to Rivendell?"

"No, Gracious Lady. Alas, I cannot. My orders are to take you onwards."

"Onwards? What do you mean?"

"I am to leave you in a place of safety, then depart."

They flew so high that the villages, farms and settlements below looked like tiny pinpricks of light. Anberenien then saw a large rock with steps cut into it. At the top, she could see a fire and what looked like two men sitting beside it. "That is the Carrock of the Beornings. It is one of their watchpoints," said Meneldor.

The wind painfully whipped past Anberenien's face. It was still swollen from the beatings she had received from Nuta. Then she noticed a Great Hall in the distance, surrounded by a large hedge with smaller houses outside its perimeter. And in the distant south, what looked like a river crossing with a checkpoint. "What about that village over there?"

"Alas, I cannot. Your presence would only bring peril upon those good people."

"Then where am I to go?"

"I must take you North."

"North, but why?"

"Those are my Orders, Gracious Lady."

Anberenien was too exhausted to question him any longer. She curled up on his back and drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, light was appearing in the sky and she could see they were flying toward a vast forest. From her study of the maps in Rivendell, she knew this must be Mirkwood. Meneldor landed softly and Anberenien dismounted. Though her legs were still a little shaky. She noticed they were in front of two large trees that had fallen across each other to form an archway.

Meneldor then dipped his head to her in reverence. "This is as far as I can take you, Gracious Lady. Keep to the path and help will find you."

All of Bilbo's stories came rushing back into her mind. Mirkwood was the very last place she had any desire to go. "You cannot leave me here. This is the realm of the Wood Elves. They are wild and dangerous. Their King locks strangers up in dark cells underground!"

"Nevertheless, Gracious Lady, my orders were to leave you here. Now I must take my leave. If I stay any longer, the Woodmen will wake and their arrows are painful. Farewell, Gracious Lady!" He flew away into the distance, leaving Anberenien alone.

Anberenien pulled the hood of her now ragged cloak over her face. Every inch of her wanted to resist going beneath the Archway. But part of her felt strangely drawn to it as if her heart was willing her. Suddenly a brown Hare hopped out of the undergrowth. It stopped in its tracks as it saw Anberenien standing there. The hare sat up, its nose twitching as it looked at her. Then it leapt past her and under the archway. In the gloom, she could faintly see the Hare turning as if expecting her to follow. Feeling she had no other choice, Anberenien took one last look around her before crossing the threshold of the Forest Gate and into the darkness.