The Green Witch

Fili had fallen quickly, and he’d hit the ground hard. Trying to catch himself, he’d put his arm out behind him, but his attempt was in vain. He heard a sickening snap as all of his weight collapsed onto his left wrist, and before he’d even stopped moving, pain shot through his hand and resonated up his arm. He rolled over onto his stomach, clutching his wrist to his chest.

There he stayed unmoving for a second, overwhelmed by his pain. He’d broken fingers before so he knew the approximate feeling. But the pain of this made a broken finger seem like a stubbed toe; saying the young dwarf was surprised by it put it mildly.

Suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him over, the movement eliciting a small cry from the otherwise burly dwarf. Though the sun was behind her, he could tell by the silhouette that it was Eskamë.

“What’s wrong?!” Eskamë took her hands off of him as soon as she’d realized he was in pain. Giving no response but another quiet groan, her eyes went down to where he held his wrist against his chest.

“Oh…” she said, then glanced around them. Hastily she reached down to him again. “Can you walk?” she questioned. Fili, finally realizing he couldn’t just lie in pain, nodded and stood up, the witch grabbing him by his good arm.

“The horses,” Fili started, looking around. Neither of them were anywhere in sight.

“Uuma dela, they will come back,” Eskamë said. “But not right now.” She quickly removed her cloak and tore off about a fourth of it lengthwise. With great speed acquired through much practice, she delicately placed Fili’s broken wrist in the fabric and tied the ends around his neck, giving him something of a sling.

“This will help. I can mend it, but not here,” and as she said the last statement they heard angry growls. Fili turned his head to look, though he knew the noise by heart.

“Wargs.”

“Yes,” Eskamë said, taking his free hand. “We must run,” she said, and led him west, where the land became higher and rockier. There they could hide and had a better chance in a fight.

They fled to the hills, their enemies closing in behind them. The witch took care to not run in a straight line, knowing at least two of them were archers. In truth, she did not know just how many chased them.

Finally they reached the hills and darted behind tall rocks, hopefully buying them more time. When Eskamë heard arrows hitting the land further away from them, she knew that while they searched, Fili and her would have a bit of time. They stopped in what looked like a cave, but only went a few feet into the side of the hill. She sat Fili down, hearing his breath becoming ragged. He was clearly in some pain.

“Here, chew on this,” she said, producing a root-type object from the bag on her hip. At first Fili looked at it skeptically. “For the pain,” she added, and Fili snatched it up and did as he was told.

While Fili rested, Eskamë grabbed the small bow she carried on her back. She wasn’t much of an archer (she preferred her long sword), but she still had some skill with a bow. Carefully she peered out from behind the rocks, readying her aim. If she were to take one of them out, they would surely know where they hid. So, it would be best to get a good, clean shot out first.

She picked her target and let the arrow fly. She hit the warg in the side of the head, forcing it to fall mid run, and flinging his orc rider out in front of him, trampling him as he came to a halt.

As soon as her shot landed, Eskamë ducked back behind her rock, waiting for the barrage of arrows. Still, however, the orcs hadn’t seen where they hid. Savoring her luck, the witch readied another arrow and aimed at her enemy once more. Before she let it fly, however, she heard a snarl and the sound of metal upon stone behind her.

“Fili!” she yelled when she saw his attacker. A lone orc had popped up from somewhere behind and was swinging madly at a startled Fili who was doing his best to avoid the beast’s weapon. Quickly the witch pulled out her sword and gave the orc a sharp kick that flung him backwards. She wanted to put as much distance between him and Fili as she could.

The orc was no smarter than any other orc, but he was still fast and resilient. Fili, catching his breath, watched Eskamë in battle, amazed by her skill with a sword. Suddenly another orc appeared behind her, unbeknownst to her. Without a moment’s thought, Fili unsheathed one of his daggers, jumped to his feet, and set off towards the hidden orc. Just before he reached him, however, Fili was grabbed from behind, and taken to the ground. He watched Eskamë behead the first orc, but when she turned and saw her second attacker, she was startled. In her attempt to dodge his blow, she stepped on a loose bit of rocks, lost her balance, and fell down.

“Eskamë!” Fili yelled. He watched the orc, now having the higher ground, wield his weapon over his head, ready to release the final blow. Quickly, Fili summoned all of his strength, pulled out another one of his hidden daggers, and stabbed the orc that fought him. He lunged for the orc that stood over Eskamë just before he let his blade fall, tackling him to the ground.

Through gritted teeth, the dwarf pressed on in rage, trying desperately to ignore the pain in his arm. He pulled out his longer knife and slew the orc, just as the rest of the pack began making their way over to him. There were four orcs left, all on wargs, charging towards him. He felt the blood drain from his face. In ordinary circumstances this would be a difficult fight. Now that he was short an arm, he grew fearful.

“E-Eskamë,” he called, looking back at her. She still lay lifeless against the rock. He was alone.

He stood his ground, not ready to go down without a fight, and thought about what he stood for. Durin’s line, his uncle, his brother and mother, Eskamë…

He saw their faces enter his mind and he reached for a dagger. Aiming perfectly, he threw it and struck one warg down before the pack had reached him. As the closest wolflike animal lunged at him, he moved out of his path at the last second, reaching out with his blade and sticking it in the side of the creature. When the orc was thrown, he survived. Fili saw him approaching Eskamë, and he swung his blade right through the orc’s neck. There he stood and remained, allowing no beast to touch the witch, at least not while he still had strength.

***

It had been nearly an hour since Eskamë had fallen. In her fall, her head had struck the side of a rock, rendering her unconscious. When she opened her eyes the sun was nearly overhead, and the light from it made her squint her eyes in pain. That is, until the memory of the orcs came back to her and she snapped them wide open at once.

“Fili,” she said in a loud whisper. She stood up quickly, steadying herself as her legs trembled from the dizziness. She didn’t have to search for long, for the blonde dwarf was leaning against the stones, just a couple of feet from her. When he heard her move, he opened his eyes, though he did not lift any of his tired limbs.

“Thank Mahal, you’re awake,” he said. Though his voice was raspy and blood trickled from one of his lips, he forced a small smile. Seeing her alive and standing before him was the best sight he’d seen in a long time. True, he worried about her and couldn’t bear to think of her not waking up, but he also knew that his strength was spent and he wouldn’t be able to make it back alone.

“Have you any more of that root?” he asked her.

“Oh, Fili,” the witch said, crouching down to him, inspecting his wounds. Then a thought struck her and she looked around, surveying the surroundings. Numerous carcasses, both orcs and wargs, littered the ground, their blood staining much of the white stones. She then looked back at Fili.

“How did you…” she trailed off and let her question go unanswered, for she knew the answer already, and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest at the thought. She gazed into his blue eyes, and though they were tired, they shone brightly in the sunlight. She felt tears sting her own eyes, and she embraced him, overcome with emotion.

“Ah- ah! My wrist,” he said when she’d squeezed him too tightly.

“Amin hiraetha, I’m sorry,” she pulled away quickly.

“The root?” he questioned again.

“Oh! Yes, yes!” and she pulled out another, bigger piece of it, and put it in his mouth for him. For half a second her fingers grazed his lips, and even in his haze of pain and misery, Fili couldn’t help but get what Kili called “butterflies” at the gentle touch.

“Are you wounded?” Eskamë asked. “I mean, anywhere else besides your wrist,” she corrected.

“Well my head’s a’thumping, but it’s nothing a strong ale can’t fix,” he said, always trying to tease a smile from the beautiful witch. It worked, for she did smile at him, knowing that if he had a more serious injury, he wouldn’t be up for joking. She rose again and looked out over the plains, making sure the area looked clear. Then, she stuck two fingers in her mouth a let out a whistle that seemed to grow in volume the longer she held it. She then turned back to Fili.

“Damon will be here shortly,” she said, and began to gather any fallen arrows and daggers.

“Damon?” Fili questioned.

“My horse. It means ‘loyal,’” she said with a smile. “For he has always been loyal to me,” and just as she finished, there was the sound of hooves nearby.

Eskamë helped Fili stand and led him to the horse. She surveyed him for a moment and then spoke.

“Right. You’ll ride in front and I’ll sit behind you,” she said and began helping him up the side of the horse. Fili pulled away, his dwarfish stubbornness making him unwilling.

“So you mean to hold me? Like an infant?!” he exclaimed, for even in his weary state he was not without pride. Eskamë frowned at him.

“I will be riding with great haste master Fili, and you would need both arms to hang on to me from behind. This is your best option,” she said, but Fili still looked unconvinced. “Of course, I could ride back on my own and send a pony for you,” she added, knowing this would sway him. And it did; the thought of Fili having to wait here alone, hoping that more orcs did not show up, made him more than a little uneasy. Reluctantly, he agreed to ride in the front.

At once they were off, and Fili silently regretted his initial stubbornness. When the lady said “haste” she meant it! They flew over the plains, the horse taking to them like a bird in the sky. They hadn’t spoken since they left, but Fili’s mind was racing with little musings. They seemed to grow in number as he became more tired and approached delirium. It seemed as though the root he still chewed on not only eased his pain, but also made him feel giddy. It was some time before he realized he was smiling into the wind as they galloped on.

“Lady Eskamë,” he began, noticing a lighthearted sound in his voice that only made him smile more (he made a mental note to ask Eskamë just what this root was later). “Would you really have left me there by my lonesome and sent others for me?” he questioned, and Eskamë registered that he must be feeling quite well, as she had given him a large piece of root. She smiled and looked down at him, as he looked up at her over his shoulder.

“Of course not, spangaer,” she told him with a giggle. “I never intended to do any such thing.

“Spang-air,” Fili said, trying to imitate her elvish, though his tongue had become more sluggish than usual. “What does that mean?”

Still smiling, the lady answered him.

“It means ‘bearded one,’ Fili,” and he laughed quietly, remembering their banter about his beard earlier in the day. He slowly let his body rest up against hers, feeling suddenly very lethargic. Eskamë noticed his weight against her, and her heart beat fast, enjoying their close proximity.

She looked upon him in wonder. She made a note to give him a proper thanking when he was of a better mind. He’d protected her and all but sacrificed himself in doing so. He truly was a brave and skilled warrior, and she owed him her life. What a triumph, what a fighter, what a… champion.

“Agh,” she said suddenly. “That title will not do. You are much more than a ‘bearded one.’ You are Fili, Aratoamin,” she spoke to him, the elvish title giving her goosebumps.

Fili yawned and let his eyes droop.

“And what does that mean?” he questioned her once more.

Eskamë looked down at his blonde head, affection swelling up inside of her. She felt the same tears that threatened to overtake her before welling up once more as she answered.

“My Champion.”