Dark Hunger (part 5)

 Shadows of the Anduin: A Tale of Mirkwood (Part 5)

Tauriel stayed hidden away from the sun, her mind a swirl of worries, questions and the low cold touch of the thirst, eventually she made a decision she would return home, see if her people could provide help, she admitted to herself, it probably wouldn't go well, but she had to make the attempt. With her course set her mind mostly quieted, she eventually fell into a fitful sleep. Tauriel stayed hidden in the darkness of the fissure, her senses—now both a gift and a curse—acutely focused on the world outside. The low, cold touch of the Thirst was a background hum, but the sudden sound of hooves was a sharp, immediate alarm.                                                      She pressed herself against the cold, crumbling stone of the watchtower, using her unnatural agility to find a sliver of shadow that allowed her to peer down onto the road. Below, the sole traveler wrapped in a heavy, earth-toned cloak dismounted. The rider’s movements were slow, deliberate, suggesting they were tired from long travel. The horse, a sturdy, unremarkable beast, lowered its head to graze on the sparse grass. Tauriel’s worst fears materialized. The traveler was making no attempt to pass through the area quickly. They were settling in, less than two hundred paces from the ruins, right at the edge of the deeper shadows of Dol Guldur. She could not make out the traveler's features under the wide hood, but her new Nosferatu sight was painfully sharp. She could see the faint network of veins under the horse's flank, the pulse steady and strong. The traveler's heart beat with a slow, powerful rhythm that registered as a dull, insistent drum in her ears—a beat that promised life and warmth. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming sensory input. Every shift of the horse’s weight, every metallic clink as the traveler set up a tiny, smokeless fire, was amplified. She was trapped. She could not move in the sun, and the traveler was blocking her best escape route north.

One day down. Two, perhaps three, until the true hunger.

The hours stretched into an excruciating wait. The sun climbed, stopped, and began its slow descent toward the western canopy. Time, which had once flowed like the waters of the Anduin, now crawled like slime along the stones.

The traveler sat by the small fire, unmoving for long periods, seemingly staring into the ruins above. Was he a Ranger, scouting the evil that still clung to the place? A superstitious fool hoping for shelter? Or something worse? Tauriel dared not make a sound, nor even shift her weight for fear of dislodging a stone. The light outside her crevice remained unforgiving. Finally, the sun dipped below the thickest part of the Mirkwood canopy. The forest floor began to bleed into shadow, and the air cooled dramatically.

It was time to move.

She checked the traveller He was still sitting by the dying fire, perhaps asleep or simply lost in thought. Tauriel needed to gain the main road and move north, toward the Elven river road that led to Thranduil’s halls. She needed to bypass the traveller silently, maintaining the shadows as her shield. Gathering her equipment, she prepared to leave the oppressive darkness of her only sanctuary. This traveller an inconvenience, a risk was now directly between her and the direction of her hope.