"I swear to you, as Eru is my witness. No stone will be unturned, no twig unbroken, until I find Thorwen and bring her back to you. I would sooner go to Mithlond than return empty-handed."- Calenamath

15th March/ Gwaeron 3019, Mirkwood

With bated breath, Thorwen readied herself as the figures came out of the gloom. The five men armed with bows and spears looked almost as surprised to see her as she was of them.

"I thought you were Orcs," said Thorwen.

The men looked at each other. "No, we are Beornings, m'lady," said the man, who appeared to be their leader. He was short and stocky with a mop of thick shaggy brown hair that matched his messy beard.

Thorwen eyed him suspiciously. "Most Beornings I've seen wear a bear's head cloak pin, but I see no identifying marks about you."

"We are simple farmers, m'lady. But Orcs attacked our villages and burned our crops. Now we fight to protect what is left," replied the leader.

Thorwen and the men lowered their weapons. She lifted her visor and lowered her scarf, but airing on the side of caution, introduced herself as Aleth. The Sindarin equivalent of her Maia name, Almárie, explaining that she was trying to return to her people on the Western Front.

The leader of the men, whose name was Ingvar, claimed they had come from the west but had got lost in the smoke during the Melee."There is fierce fighting there, m'lady. I have never seen such a large Orc army before."

"As fortune would have it, we are at the enchanted river. If we follow it northward, we should reach the Elven way in no time," said Thorwen.

"Perhaps we should rest first. This smoke is so dense, we can't even tell if it is day or night. We are not used to fighting and my men are weary. We do not have the stamina of Elves."

Thorwen agreed. After a day's fighting, a brief respite could not hurt. The company shared with Thorwen what little food and drink they had. After a while, Thorwen noticed the smoke was receding. She and her companions could now get a clearer view of the smouldering forest. Then one of the men saw the image of an eye, freshly carved into one of the blackened stumps.

"Look Ingvar, Orc marks! They can't be far away. We should go after them." The other men agreed, but Thorwen advised that the Elven way was not far and they were few in number. "Better it would be to return with reinforcements before attacking more Orcs."

"Not scared, are you, m'lady?" said Ingvar. And the other men in the company sniggered.

"Certainly not. I have been trained to fight since childhood. But we are small in number and you, being farming folk, might fare better if we return for reinforcements."

"And if we follow the marks, we could catch the Orcs unawares and slaughter them. Like they slaughtered our families, M'lady. It's alright for you Elves, safe in your caverns. But we Woodfolk are mere pawns. Picked off at will by the Orcs. It is time we paid them back for what they've done to us!"

The other men murmured in agreement and prepared to leave. "Will you join us, m'lady?" asked Ingvar.

"I must return to my people. But I will come back with others to assist you."

Ingvar shrugged. "suit yourself, m'lady. Let's hope we are still alive upon your return." Grinning, he shook Thorwen's hand. "Fortune, be with you, m'lady." Then he and his men walked southward, searching out other Orc marks as they went. Thorwen lowered her visor with a pang of guilt. Had she condemned those men to their deaths by not going with them?

No, she had done all that she could to convince them to return to the safety of the Elven front. Now refreshed, she would hurry back and help the men as she had promised. The enchanted river bubbled away as it flowed southward. Thorwen watched its mesmerising current before turning her gaze northward.

The smoke was now clearing and Thorwen's helm extended sight, showed tall shadows in the distant half-light. Elves. It would still take her some hours to reach them, but at least she could get word to Thranduil and help the men who had foolishly gone south. Suddenly Thorwen heard terrified cries.

She turned, focusing her gaze toward them. It did not take her long to discover what had happened to the men. Several giant spiders surrounded them. Who were taking great delight in picking off their prey one by one. Playing with them like a cat plays with a captured mouse. Two wriggling bundles wrapped in spider silk already lay helpless beneath their eight-legged guard.

With one longing look to the north, she turned southward, making her way swiftly but carefully through the terrain. Stopping at a safe distance, Thorwen sheathed her blades and looked about her for a climbable tree. The gnarled oak she found did not make it easy for her, but once Thorwen had reached a safe height, she could get a clear view of Ingvar and his companions.

Thorwen now put all her training as a woodland scout to use. She pulled her bow and quiver of arrows from her back and laid low on a large overhanging bough. While she could never match the skill of a Wood Elf. Legolas had declared Thorwen's archery skills as satisfactory when she had served in his company. Now the lives of the men below her depended on them.

Ingvar was fending off a spider with his spear, unaware that the largest spider of the group was about to inflict her paralysing bite. Keeping as still as possible, Thorwen aimed and loosed her first arrow at the creature. It let out a piercing scream as the arrow hit its mark, alerting Ingvar, who turned and thrust his spear through the spider's body, finishing the creature off.

He momentarily looked up at Thorwen's tree, giving her a grateful nod before assisting his companions with another creature. Thorwen set her sights on the spider who was guarding its victims. Loosing two more arrows in quick succession, she slew it with ease. Jumping down from the bough, she immediately ran to the bundles and with her dagger, cut the men within free.

Ingvar and his companions finished off the last two spiders before returning to Thorwen, who was helping to revive the other men. They expressed their gratitude to her, mentioning that if she hadn't come back for them, they feared they would have all been lost. "We should have gone north, as you advised," said Ingvar.

"I'm glad I could help. But we should not linger. More spiders will soon arrive and we should be long gone when they get here."

Ingvar shivered. "Agreed, m'lady. Lead the way."

Ingvar and his companions helped to support the two men, who were still recovering from the spider bites. The smoke was clearing, but the sky was heavy with evening. Thorwen lit the red torch from her pack and slowly led the men towards the enchanted river. Suddenly, the smoke thickened again. Coiling around the company like a gigantic snake slowly constricting their movements.

"I don't like this. This smoke is not natural. It's cold and feels more like a shadow," said Ingvar.

Thorwen could feel the morgul energy about them. Handing her torch to Ingvar, she unsheathed her blades, expecting the enemy to step out of the shadows at any moment. "Ingvar," she whispered. "If I tell you to run. Run as fast as your company can. Go North at the river and if you find my people. Tell them,............ tell them Lady Thorwen, the King's betrothed, calls for aid. But do not look back. You must get your people to safety."

Ingvar and his companions looked at her with wonder. "We took you for an Elf. Never did we think we would meet the Silver-eyed Lady. Our people speak most highly of you. They say you were tortured by the priests in the mountains when you helped to rescue our young ones."

"You mean these," replied Thorwen. Sheathing one of her blades, she lifted the sleeves of her mithril shirt and linen shift to reveal the scars on her bare arms. The men gasped, but there was little time for further discussion. They were now in the midst of the dark cloud, making their progress impossible. The temperature dropped rapidly, causing them to shiver. The company stood in a defensive stance with the injured men in the centre. Now they could hear whispers coming through the gloom.

Some men spoke in fear that the witch of the mountain had returned and was coming for them. Thorwen suspected they were right and that members of the temple could not be far away. Perhaps even Nuta herself if she was still alive. The Elves had searched the enclave thoroughly, but Nuta had been unaccounted for. Only Thorwen's Will could help them now.

"I'm going to try something. A little enchantment the Elves taught me for times of trouble," she told the others. "Cover your eyes and when I have finished. Run northward if you can, but do not look back! The men followed her instructions and shielded their eyes with their cloaks.

Sheathing her other blade, Thorwen closed her eyes and drew energy from the ground into herself. Muttering words in Quenya, she expelled the energy in a bright light that obliterated the dark cloud surrounding them. Thorwen felt her knees buckle, but managed to remain standing. The men murmured gratefully. But Thorwen kept her eyes fixed on the dark shadows still lingering in the south. "Run," she uttered.

"Will you not come with us, lady?" Ingvar urged her.

"Run, while you still have time. I will follow presently," replied Thorwen.

The men did not need to be asked again. All five now ran northward. Thorwen looked about her, the starlight giving her enough illumination to get a sense of her surroundings. Yet, she could feel someone was watching her. Mocking her from the shadows.

She tried to make a torch from burnt-out twigs and grass but could not get further than a few sparks. Frustrated, she called out to the shadows. "Nuta! I know you are there! Will you come out and show yourself? Or stay hidden like the coward you are!"

Thorwen's challenge was greeted with silence. Preparing for the unexpected, she unsheathed her blades and lowered her visor. As she had hoped, her sight through the Eagle-eyed helm was clearer in the darkness. There was an uneasy calm in the air. Some trees still smouldered, but the flames were dying now. Thorwen wondered if the battle was finally over. She needed to get back to the Elves, and to Thranduil.

Retracing her steps, Thorwen could not shake the thought that she was still being watched. Filled with a sense of unease, she began humming to herself until she came across a strand of silk attached to a tree stump. It had not been there before. Thorwen knew that with one touch of a strand, the Mirkwood spiders would descend on her. But as she tried to avoid each strand, they grew more frequent.

The snap of a twig caught Thorwen's attention. She turned but saw nothing at first and continued on her way. Then came a familiar hissing sound. The hairs on the back of Thorwen's neck stood up, and she slowly turned around, coming face to face with the largest spider she had ever seen. It was bloated, and the juices of its last meal were still dripping from its mouth.

Thorwen's instincts kicked in and she dispatched the beast quickly before it had a chance to attack. But as she fought, she felt a terrible stinging sensation in her shoulder.

Thorwen turned momentarily to see that another slightly smaller spider had crept up behind her. Her vision became blurred and her entire body went limp as the poison quickly took hold.

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19th March/ Gwaeron 3019, The Woodland Realm

The early morning sun's gentle glow fell upon the burnt-out stumps of the western side of the forest. Tears burned Thranduil's cheeks as he surveyed the damage. Wood Elves frantically beat out the last of the fires. The Realm had prevailed, but it was badly scarred. Even the Forest Gate did not escape unharmed. His heart was broken. Several days had passed since their victory, but at what cost? So much destruction. And Thorwen was still unaccounted for.

Celephinniel sniffed away her tears and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Calenamath and Bregwen saved many saplings. We shall replant them all. The forest will be healed."

"What of Thorwen? Is there no further news?"

"Calenamath and the Huscarls have not yet returned. But I will not believe she is dead. Not Thorwen. They will find her."

But Thranduil's heart was heavy. His mind called her name repeatedly, but if she was replying, he could not hear it. The previous day, Scouts had found a group of men who had been assisted by a silver-eyed lady, giving him a glimmer of hope.

But in mortal form, Almárie was vulnerable to human hurts, weariness and even death. If she had been taken from the world, his reason to remain in Middle Earth would have gone. He would hand the kingship to Legolas and make the journey to Mithlond. At least there was hope he could find her in Valinor. But would she still remember him?

The sound of a horn woke Thranduil from his thoughts. Calenamath, Bregwen and the Huscarls slowed their horses and dismounted. Their faces were grim. Calenamath took something from his horse bags and brought it to his brother. It was Almárie's helm. Shaking, Thranduil took it from him. Tears flowed painfully from his eyes and his chest felt tight. "Was there not even a body?"

"She is not dead, muindor!" said Calenamath. He went on to explain that they had found the place where the men had left Thorwen. "There was spider silk everywhere. Not only that, several arachnid bodies littered the area and signs that someone had been cut from a bundle. That is where we found the helm."

"Then someone has rescued her from the spiders," replied Thranduil. "Perhaps she is recovering among the woodmen."

But Bregwen shook her head. "I fear she was not cut free by friends. We found heavy cart tracks leading southwest and this." Bregwen handed Thranduil a half-burned piece of cloth from a banner with a sigil that was clearly part of the eye of Sauron. Thranduil swallowed as he took in its meaning. "The Orcs have her!" he whispered.

He turned to Calenamath, his eyes aflame with fury. "Gather what armies you can. We shall catch them up, rescue Thorwen and slaughter them all!"

But Celephinniel laid a hand on his shoulder. "You cannot leave the Realm just yet, Thranduil. You are king and your people need you. I know how much you want to go after Thorwen. But that task must be handed to others. The battle was won, but casualties were high and the people need their king to bring them comfort and hope. News from Dale and Erebor are grim. Both King Brand and Dain were slain. The Easterlings have besieged Erebor, if the Dwarven Realm falls, we will be their next target."

As much as he hated her counsel. Celephinniel was right. His heart wanted to bring the full force of his fury upon those who had taken Almárie from him. But he knew his current duty was to his people. There was only one course of action he could take. "Calenamath, Find Thorwen and bring her home! Dead or alive! Take the Huscarls with you!"

Calenamath fell to his knees and bowed. "I swear to you, as Eru is my witness. No stone will be unturned, no twig unbroken, until I find Thorwen and bring her back to you. I would sooner go to Mithlond than return empty-handed."