Adventure of Tuiwen 2

The morning air beneath the Elvenking’s Halls is cold and green with pine resin. Tuiwen stands at the stone bridge that leads into the forest, her travel cloak drawn close, her elven blade ready at her side. Behind her, the carved gates of Thranduil’s realm fade into shadow.

A mounted scout waits near the bridge, reins gathered tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead as if he expects the dark to move. He keeps one hand near his bow, but does not reach for it.

Tuiwen steps onto the road, and the hush of Mirkwood closes around her. Sunlight threads through the boughs in narrow, uncertain bands, and every root and shadow seems to watch her pass.

Ahead, a shape shifts between the trees, too still for bird or deer. It pauses just long enough to be seen, then slips behind the trunks again.

The woods go quiet around Tuiwen, as though waiting for her next move.

Tuiwen heels her horse forward, but the mount shies at the first touch of her reins. Its head jerks high, nostrils flaring at the dark between the trees.

The horse gives a nervous sidestep instead of a clean surge, and Tuiwen has to tighten her seat to keep from slipping in the saddle.

In the same moment, the shadow in the branches moves again, not away, but parallel to the path, keeping just beyond the pale of the bridge.

Tuiwen’s line of sight catches only a thin break in the foliage, then the dark is gone behind the trunks. The road lies ahead, but now the horse paws and resists the press of the woods.

The scout steadies in the saddle, bow still low, waiting for Tuiwen to choose whether to press on or hold the frightened beast.

He takes the reins at once, easing the startled horse away from Tuiwen’s knee and turning it back toward the bridge.

As the scout leads the mount off, a faint trail mark shows where the hidden shape had kept pace, a blur of bent needles and broken dew along the verge.

Tuiwen swings down to the stones, light on her feet, the horse already settling behind her as if relieved to be gone from the trees.

The scout holds her gaze a moment, then gives a sharp nod and disappears with the horse toward the stables, while the road ahead lies open for Tuiwen on foot.

Tuiwen slips from the bridge’s edge into the trees, and the road loses her at once. The bent needles ahead spread into a path only she can read, soft underfoot and silent as breath.

Behind her, the scout fades with the horse toward the stables, but the forest at her back stays still, giving no chase, no crack of branch, no warning call.

She follows the faint sign inward, and the shadow’s pace is answered by a new truth, it has kept to the road all along, as if the woods themselves bar its way.

A slender white ribbon of bark hangs snagged on a thorn, pale enough to catch her eye, and it points deeper into the shadowed undergrowth.

From somewhere ahead, just beyond sight, the underbrush stirs once, then stills, as if something hears her pass and chooses not to reveal itself.