Adventure of Tuiwen 2

The blue-lit stair shivers as Tuiwen and Radagast climb. Behind them, the stone threshold folds shut with a deep chime, releasing nothing from the sealed hall.

Above, Calion and the three Woodmen guides wait beside the mountain pass, keeping watch over the protected routes while Tuiwen and Radagast return toward Rhosgobel.

By evening, the russet hedge of Rhosgobel glows around them. Its wards recognize their passage, and the birds stir uneasily as the pair enters the wizard’s yard.

On the cluttered table lies a rain-darkened report, marked with several witness signs and a rough map of the southern forest. Radagast unfolds it beside the earlier routes.

Beyond the hedge, a tremor passes faintly through the earth. The report, the sealed roads, and Saruman’s fortress now form one dangerous pattern awaiting Tuiwen’s judgment.

Tuiwen retrieves the rain-darkened report from Radagast’s table and spreads it beneath the lamplight. Faded marks resolve into distances, timings, and careful witness descriptions.

Her perception separates rumor from repeated observation: three small bands moved near Dol Guldur, each disciplined, ash-marked, and traveling without campfires. Their paths converge on old command routes.

The report describes armed orc scouts among them, accompanied by lean, dark-coated beasts that obey whistles rather than spoken orders. None bears a banner, but all avoid the fortress roads by day.

A second layer emerges in the copied route marks: the bands pause at wells, crossings, and abandoned watchposts before turning west. Their purpose is surveillance and influence, not an open assault.

The report now yields a clear picture: three mobile hunting bands, orc scouts, trained beasts, and hidden couriers probing the southern forest. Tuiwen knows where the threat concentrates and what it seeks.

Radagast studies Tuiwen across the lamplit table, then draws the three converging routes together with one firm stroke. The report’s scattered signs become a map of impending danger.

Radagast reaches for fresh parchment. Beside the warning, he copies the sealed door’s runes and the order of its binding marks, preserving every detail for those who may recognize its making.

He seals the letters with wax and calls the waiting birds from the hedge. One carries the military warning west, while another bears the copied runes and Radagast’s account of the deep threshold.

Radagast clears a space beside the copied runes and brings fresh parchment, ink, and a trimmed quill from his stores. He sets them before Tuiwen without ceremony.

Tuiwen writes with measured clarity: the ash-marked bands, their trained beasts, their movement near wells and crossings, and their convergence on old command routes. She distinguishes witnessed fact from inference.

Her report urges her father to gather the Woodland Realm’s forces, reinforce the southern settlements, and coordinate with the Woodmen before the hunters can divide their roads or choose the hour of attack.

Radagast reads the finished report, then presses his seal into warm wax. The parchment joins the urgent dispatches, carrying Tuiwen’s warning and her father’s requested call to arms toward the Woodland Realm.

Radagast sets the sealed report beside the Council’s dispatches and dims the hearth. Outside, the birds settle among the houses while evening deepens over Rhosgobel.

Time passes without interruption. No horn sounds from the forest, no runner arrives from the southern roads, and the russet hedge holds its quiet watch.

The night settles around the house. The reports remain sealed, the aid routes remain guarded, and the unopened deep roads remain beyond reach beneath the mountains.

For now, waiting is itself a choice: the settlements are warned, the Council has been summoned, and the next move belongs to those who receive the truth.

Radagast’s weary smile softens the quiet house. He gathers the sealed reports from the table and leaves the lamp burning low beside the stairs.

Tuiwen goes to her chamber and closes the door on the waiting dispatches. The russet hedge keeps its watch beyond the window, while Rhosgobel settles into darkness.

At last, she lies down beneath clean blankets. The night passes without interruption, and sleep claims her before the next decision can arrive.

Tuiwen rises before the house fully wakes and stretches beneath the quiet window. Cool morning air slips through the shutters, carrying damp earth and birdsong from beyond the hedge.

She searches the chamber, then the adjoining kitchen, reading the shelves by sight and scent. A covered basket holds oatcakes, dried apples, and a small crock of honey.

The meal is enough for breakfast. Tuiwen sets an oatcake on a wooden plate, adds dried apples and honey, and fills a cup from the covered water jar.

Her careful search takes longer than expected; sunlight has reached the kitchen floor before she finishes. She still cannot tell whether Radagast meant the provisions for her or for some visiting creature.

For now, breakfast is secured. Tuiwen carries the plate toward the quiet hearth, with the house still holding its morning silence around her.

Tuiwen steps outside into the cool morning and circles Rhosgobel’s russet hedge. Birdhouses crowd the eaves, fence posts, and low branches, each shaped for a different beak and wing.

Her keen sight finds feeding trays tucked beneath the window ledges, shallow bowls hung from the boughs, and small covered boxes protected from rain. Seeds, berries, suet, and insects fill them in careful portions.

The arrangement answers her. Radagast has marked each station with tiny painted signs, and the birds move between them by kind, arriving in a steady rhythm rather than a hungry swarm.

Behind the house, she discovers a lean-to pantry stocked with sacks of grain, dried fruit, wax-sealed jars of fat, and bundles of gathered berries. A rain barrel keeps the nearest basins full.

Fresh scraps and newly scattered seed show that the morning feeding has already begun. The birds know the household’s routine, and Rhosgobel sustains them through patience, preparation, and Radagast’s intimate knowledge of their needs.

Tuiwen lifts her chin and shapes a clear, rising whistle modeled on a thrush’s morning call. The sound slips among the birdhouses and over the russet hedge.

The first answer comes from the eaves: two thrushes descend to a feeding tray, tilting their speckled heads toward her. A blackbird replies from the hedge, then a robin from the pantry roof.

Tuiwen recognizes the pattern beneath the chorus. The thrushes answer curiosity, the blackbird gives a territorial note, and the robin’s repeated call signals a familiar household presence rather than alarm.

At a second, softer whistle, the birds respond in distinct turns: thrushes from the eaves, finches from the lower branches, and a pair of jays from beyond the hedge. None shows fear.

Tuiwen shapes a simple rising tune with her lips, letting each phrase linger over the russet hedge and the clustered birdhouses. The melody is gentler than her summons.

Several Rhosgobel birds answer by following the tune. Thrushes descend in measured hops, finches echo the shorter notes, and a robin carries the final phrase from bough to bough.

The birds keep to her melody as she repeats it, shifting between the hedge and the eaves without alarm. Their replies grow more confident, shaping a loose, airy chorus around her.

The final notes fade into the morning, but the birds remain near Tuiwen, attentive and unafraid. Rhosgobel’s hedge answers with ordinary birdsong once more.

Radagast glances toward the birdhouses. The morning chorus breaks apart, and several Rhosgobel birds lift from the hedge as if summoned by an unseen urgency.

A small strip of green ribbon is tied around the bird’s leg, bearing the king’s household mark. Radagast unfastens it and lays the accompanying message beside the maps.

The message also confirms that the western roads remain open and the aid wagons have arrived safely. Outside, the birds settle again, while the mountain’s distant pulse remains absent.

Tuiwen draws the maps closer and spends the morning reconstructing each band’s movements, marking wells, crossings, watchposts, numbers, beasts, and likely objectives.

Her report separates witnessed signs from deduction and advises Thranduil to gather Woodland forces while coordinating with the Woodmen rather than abandoning the southern settlements.

The work takes most of the day. By its end, one route remains uncertain: the eastern band vanished beyond broken ground before any witness could follow it.

Radagast presses his seal into the warm wax and gives the report to a waiting messenger bird. Tuiwen’s warning is secured, though the missing eastern route leaves her knowledge incomplete.