Summary:  Long ago, in a forest far, far away…(please note this first installment of Grandfather’s story takes place several hundred years before the events in the Prologue.)

Disclaimer:  Don’t own any of this (except the OC’s)…only wish I did.

IN THE HEART OF A FRIEND

Chapter 1:  Beginnings

          “When a friend is in trouble, don’t annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. 

           Think up something appropriate and do it.”   Edgar Watson Howe

2890 T.A., near Esgaroth (also known as Lake Town)

Darius, son of Olwain, sighed wearily as he gazed across the field at the dry land which had once been a thriving field of grain.  He crouched and scooped up a handful of soil, watching the dirt sift through his fingers only to be caught by the dry breeze and blown away in a puff of dust. 

Good soil. 

Fertile. 

But without the life-giving rains, useless. 

He had given over all but a fraction of his crop to the relentless sun several weeks ago, choosing instead to concentrate his strength on saving his animals, the family garden, and a small corner of his field with the water he had managed to divert from the stream which bisected his farm.  He only hoped that water source would continue.  A once swiftly running stream, it had steadily diminished to a sluggish, shallow shadow of itself.

The young man dusted his hand off on his trousers and stood, turning to survey his farm. His.  He smiled.  It had taken him one look at the tract of land, bound on the east by the River Running and on the west by the great forest of the Greenwood five years ago to convince him to purchase it immediately, in spite of the protests of his family and friends.  “It’s too far from everyone else, Darius.”  “It’s too close to the forest, Darius.”  “You will be alone…if there’s trouble you will be too far for anyone to help.” 

He had listened to every reason and excuse, but after talking it over with his wife, Cara, he had bought the farm anyway.  That first year, a sturdy house with a wide porch and a large serviceable barn had been constructed under the stand of huge oak trees which formed a natural windbreak. They had moved in shortly after. 

He and Cara had cleared the first field together, and while he plowed the rows, she had followed behind, sowing the grain.  Their first crop had been abundant beyond all expectations and brought a goodly sum from the merchants in town.  He’d bought their milk cow and calf with some of the proceeds, knowing at last he had done the right thing.  The next three years he and Cara had begun to call the years of plenty – for it was certain this year would NOT follow suit.  Fortunately, he had saved enough profit from the years before to tide them over until this dry period passed. 

“Please pass – soon,” he whispered.  Looking at the dead and dying plants hurt the heart of this man who liked nothing better than to walk his fields, running his hands over the thriving plants, weighing the heavy heads of grain and breathing in the heady green smell of life.

Darius sighed again.  What a waste!  Yet as he stood there, his eyes were drawn to uneasily study the treeline across from his field.  This had been happening more and more of late and he was at a loss to explain why.  The woods did not look any different – mighty old trees surrounded by great younger trees and saplings, all vying for space and sunlight, providing home and shade and food for a variety of deer, squirrel, wild boar, and birds. 

He had never ventured far past the edge of the great wood. Every man, woman, and child raised in this part of Wilderland knew better than to trespass in the northern part of the Greenwood, where the Wood-elves made their homes under the governance of the Elvenking, Thranduil.  Not that the King did not permit hunting to take place.  He did - but only in certain areas of the forest and only with his permission. 

The dark mystery that was the Greenwood had grown over hundreds of years until the lake men had begun calling it Taur e-Ndaedelos, the forest of great fear, or Mirkwood.  And Mirkwood all men still named it.  Except Darius, who could often be heard to argue that while the southern forest might still be darkened by a great evil, this part still remained majestic and alive. 

Besides…Mirkwood?  Darius snorted.  In his opinion, such a name would only seem insulting to its guardians who worked so hard to keep the southern evil exactly where it was…in the south.  The elves might intimidate others, but he held out hope that one day before he died he would actually meet one of Firstborn.  Of course, his friends and family thought him quite daft. 

Darius continued to study the forest.  They were often there…he knew it.  From time to time he could feel the weight of their eyes watching him as he went about caring for his fields…but he had yet to even catch a glimpse of one.

And now this new sensation of…wrongness.  Darius stared at the nearby woods, puzzled at this sense of lurking danger he felt.

“What is it, love?” 

Darius started, his reverie interrupted by a gentle hand placed on his shoulder.  He turned to meet the concerned eyes of his wife, Cara. 

He shrugged, drawing her to stand before him, wrapping his arms around her slender form and cupping her gently rounded belly even as his eyes were unwittingly drawn back to their study of the treeline.  Both smiled when the babe within greeted its father with a boisterous kick, and Darius rested his chin on his wife’s head, inhaling her sweet scent.

“Darius,” she repeated, leaning back against his shoulder and turning slightly to peer up at his face.

“Hmmmm?,” he murmured.

“Answer the question.”  Silence.  

“What is it?” she persisted.

Cara watched her husband’s closed expression tighten and turned in his arms to kiss his cheek.

Time for another tack.  “Come inside then,” she urged.  “It’s well past noon and ye haven’t eaten yet.”

He scanned the wood one last time and reluctantly turned to follow her into the house.  After a quick meal of fresh bread, a vegetable soup and cheese, he returned to the endless chores of providing water for the garden and his animals (the cow and calf had been joined by a strong steer for plowing, a rather arrogant bull, and two horses). 

The next day was spent behind his plow, turning over the poor withered stubble in his field and again watering the livestock and garden, as well as refilling the makeshift reservoir he had devised for the house.  And watching the sky.  Always watching the sky for any hint of a promising raincloud.  But the sky remained a crystalline blue with a high, wispy cloud or two and the air remained dry, casting a fine dusty haze over the countryside.

One morning, Darius had had enough of the almost constant state of uneasiness and saddled his riding horse, a rangy blood-bay gelding grandly named Fire's Flame.  Darius had affectionately nicknamed the horse Cinder, for his practical, staid nature certainly did not resemble a flame of any sort.   

“I’ll be ridin’ over towards Lake-town to see my brother,” he explained to Cara as he led the horse from the barn. 

He kissed her forehead and said sternly, “Do not work too hard.”

She wrinkled her nose and crossed her eyes at those words.  Darius chuckled and kissed her again.  “I mean it, sprite,” he said.  “I won’t be gone but two, maybe three hours or so.  Save the hard chores for when I get back.”

“Yes, Master,” she dipped a curtsey, grinning and batting her eyelashes at him. 

“Ye are in a right fine mood, my girl,” Darius laughed, swinging into the saddle.  “See that ye take care…both of you.”

Hearing his concern, she patted his leg reassuringly.  “WE will, love.  Take care yerself and hurry back.”

He nodded and sent Cinder trotting out of the yard, northeast towards Lake-town.

Cara busied herself cleaning the house and preparing their evening meal.  True to his word, Darius returned several hours later, but would only tell her that his brother and family were doing well and was that wonderful smell berry tarts?  Knowing no amount of prodding would gain any information from her stubborn husband, Cara shrugged and fed him, well aware she would find out what he was planning soon enough.

‘Soon enough’ turned out to be early the next morning.  Darius' brother, Rendan and his middle son Garlon came riding up just in time for breakfast.  While they were putting their horse out to pasture, Cara was putting her fists on her hips and glaring at her husband. 

“What are ye planning, husband?” she asked.  “And no more passin’ me off with silly excuses or questions about tarts!”

Darius looked at her steadily and replied, “A trip.”

“Where?” she snapped, her heart sinking.

“Into the forest,” he said.  Cara closed her eyes.  Of course.

“Darius,” she whispered.  “If there be trouble in those woods, the elves will deal with it.  Leave it be…please.”

He took her by the arms and she looked up into his pleading eyes.  “I cannot, Cara,” he said softly.  “The forest is huge – they cannot be everywhere.  If there be trouble, I must at least try to find it…before it finds not only them, but us as well!”

“Darius…”  He stopped her protests with a gentle hand over her lips. 

“A short trip, dearling,” he promised.  “Just to scout around and make sure there’s no threat near our farm.  Rendan and Garlon will keep ye company and take care of the chores until I return.”

He drew her close.  “Two days – maybe three…then I’ll turn back if I don’t find anything.”

“And if ye get lost, ye foolish man, what then?” she asked, gritting her teeth in frustration.

“But I won’t.  I’m no novice to travelin’ long distances.  I’ve marked a trail and I’ll stick to it.  Besides, I’m not going towards the Elvenking’s stronghold.  I’ll stay fairly close to the edge of the forest, alright?” He kissed her forehead softly.

“No, it is not alright,” she returned shortly, pushing away to glare up at him, only to complain, “Why are ye so tall, Darius?  I can never fight with ye properly when yer towering over me like some overgrown troll.” 

Her husband, drat the insufferable man, threw back his head and laughed.  She tried to shove him away but he grabbed her again and drew her back against his chest.

“There, there, now little one,” he murmured consolingly.  “I’ll let ye win next time.”

Cara thumped his chest, giving up abruptly to lean her forehead against him and sigh.  “I know ye won’t rest until ye find out what is bothering ye so.”  She huffed in exasperation.  “Two days then – no more.”

He grinned.  “Two days.”

“Darius…” she warned.

“Two days – and I’ll start back.”

She slapped his arm.  “Impossible man – two days and ye’ll BE back.”  A long pointed silence.  “Period.”

Darius looked down into his wife’s deep green eyes, sparking now with anger and smoothed her bright auburn hair back from her face.

“Have I told ye lately how pretty ye are with those eyes fairly snapping with temper, love?”

She punched his arm this time.  “Two days, ye dolt.”

He laughed.  “Yer a hard woman, Cara my love.  Alright, two days it is.”  He bent to kiss her frowning mouth. 

“It better be,” she muttered against his lips and clung to him for a moment before pushing away.  “I’ll go and pack a bag with some food and fill a water skin.”

He watched as she turned and went to the back room where the cooking was done and food was stored.  Giving a little sigh of his own, he walked out of the house and headed to the barn to saddle his horse.

He met Rendan on the way.  “How did she take the news?” his brother asked, falling into step beside him.

Darius lengthened his stride.  “About like ye said, brother,” he answered.

Rendan stood outside Cinder’s stall and watched as Darius saddled his horse, frowning slightly when his big brother slipped a quiver of arrows over his shoulder and took down a bow from its mount on the wall.

“I wish ye’d reconsider,” he began.  “But…”  He raised a conciliatory hand when Darius turned to argue with him.

“…I know ye won’t.” 

Darius snorted and turned back to his horse.  Saddling completed, he led the big animal out of his stall and finally into the bright sunlight.  Rendan followed silently behind and clapped his brother fondly on the shoulder as he prepared to mount.

“Don’t ye worry about Cara or the farm,” he said.  “Garlon and me will take care of things.”  He gestured toward a field behind the barn.  “I’ve already got the boy takin’ yer cattle out to pasture.” 

Darius nodded and reached to clasp his brother’s shoulder in return.  “Thank ye, Rendan,” he said, swinging up into the saddle.

He gazed towards the forest for a moment before looking at his brother again.  “She gave me two days,” he said.  “Don’t start worryin’ until three pass.”  His brother nodded, both men watching Cara walk from the house carrying a gunny sack of food and two water skins.

“Ye have yer knives and an axe?” Rendan whispered.

“Aye,” Darius replied, patting the bow slung across his back.  “And the bow too.”

“Ahhh…well,” his brother huffed.  “Yer such a poor shot with that thing…keep the knives close.”

Darius chuckled.  “At least I can shoot the thing…after a fashion.”   

Cara reached the men and handed the sack up to her husband.  Darius looked at her set face, the way she stood stiffly with her arms folded across her chest and thought he couldn’t possibly love her more than he did right at that moment.  He hooked the sack on the saddle and leaned over. 

Cara cupped his face and gave him a lingering kiss.  “Be careful,” she whispered.

“I will,” he reassured her, catching one last kiss.  Cara stepped back as Darius nudged the horse forward.

She and Rendan watched as he rode across the field and followed the treeline before finally disappearing into the woods.

“Come along, Cara,” Rendan urged the silent woman gently towards the house.  “Brand is bringing Nola later this evenin’ to keep ye company.”

Cara tried to smile.  “Thank ye, Rendan.  It’ll be good to visit with another woman again.”

Rendan stopped, staring after her for a moment before following, plaintively saying, “What am I?  Fishbait?”

~~~~*~~~~

Darius rode slowly but steadily in a southwesterly direction the first day, staying close to the boundary of the forest at first before gradually working his way deeper into the trees.  He found the faint path he was looking for and followed that until sunset when he finally came across a small clearing with a very shallow creek skirting its edge.  Dismounting, he checked the water carefully.  It was really just a trickle, but clean and cool and protected from the sun by the heavy shade.  Darthon quickly unsaddled Cinder, rubbing the big horse down before putting the hobbles on and setting him to enjoy the measure of grain he’d brought, along with the fresh water. 

“See there,” he told the horse.  “Fresh water…yer favorite grain…all the comforts of home.” 

Cinder looked up at the man, water dripping from his muzzle, rolled his eyes and shook his head as if to say his man was obviously blind.  Darius laughed and swatted the horse affectionately. 

“Eat yer grain, ya big oaf,” he chuckled.  “And let me see yer hoof.” 

He picked up one hoof, then another, and picked them out to his satisfaction before leaving the horse to rest.  He gathered wood into a stack nearby and sat down to eat his own cold supper.  Using the dead wood to kindle a small fire, he sat quietly for a time, listening to the forest creatures settle for the night and hoping no one (man, elf, or otherwise) took notice of his presence.  He checked Cinder one last time before rolling up in his blanket and trying to sleep.  Which he did.  Sleep, that is.  Eventually.

Darius woke at dawn the next morning, stiff and wondering what in the world he had been thinking in attempting this insane search through a forbidding forest based on nothing more than a feeling.  But a breakfast of Cara’s sweet spice rolls with a healthy slice of cheese and a slab of ham, heated on a stick over the coals of the fire soon raised his spirits. 

“I have got to get a pig,” he muttered, chewing blissfully on the last bit of warm pork and licking his greasy fingers. 

He broke camp in his quiet, efficient way; doused the fire and scattered the coals, making sure no spark remained.  Filling the water skins, he saddled Cinder and climbed onto the horse’s back, urging him forward on the same path.     

“Now, my friend,” he said, patting the muscular neck.  “Let’s see what we might find today.”

The path wound its way deeper into the woods and Darius noticed the increasing gloom and heaviness in the air.  Birdsong grew faint and the small wildlife he had seen the day before disappeared.  Cinder’s pace slowed, became reluctant, and Darius felt the familiar uneasiness return. 

“Now maybe we’ll see what’s causin’ this,” he thought, wondering at the same time if he really wanted to know.

By midafternoon, the big bay’s nervousness finally reached the point where Darius had to dismount and lead the horse on foot.  The pair had not traveled much farther when Cinder balked, planting his feet and refusing to move.  Darius grabbed the horse’s headstall, bringing the beast’s head to his chest and stroking the trembling animal’s nose.

The man didn’t make a sound, standing stock-still, listening and trying to see through the gloom surrounding them.  The trees had fallen silent – nothing, neither animal or wind disturbing the absolute stillness of the air.

Suddenly, Cinder's ears swiveled forward, alerted by something ahead on the path.  Darius slowly slipped his long knife from its scabbard, ignoring the bow for the time being.  He knew his limitations – he was no warrior, but his skill with a blade was marginally better.

Now he could hear what had caught Cinder’s attention...a faint movement through the brush just off the trail – something attempting stealth and speed rather unsuccessfully.  Darius tensed, his grip tightening until his knuckles ached.

From the underbrush to his right, a small figure broke free, stumbled and gasped for breath, then broke into a shambling run.  Right into Darius.

He fumbled around, returning the knife to its sheath with one hand, while the other grasped a fragile shoulder.  His astonished eyes widened in disbelief as they beheld the grimy, terrified features of a small child.  Darius bent down slowly, talking softly to calm the young one.

“There, there, shhhh,” he whispered, gently patting the shaking shoulder.  “Yer safe now.  Shhh…no one will harm ye now.” 

The child, a young boy perhaps six years of age, looked up at Darius and fell into his arms, sobbing softly.  Darius hugged the boy, keeping his eyes on the path ahead for whatever pursued the child and drawing the long knife once more.

He didn’t have to wait long.  He heard it first.  A click-clacking sound of something skittering along at a rapid pace.

The little boy gasped, tugging on Darius' arm and pointing up.  He saw it then – a large, black something with many legs, scuttling along a branch overhead. 

Quicker than thought, the shape dropped from the tree, suspended by a thick rope.  Shoving the child behind him to be sandwiched between his own body and Cinder, Darius lifted the knife and shoved it into the rapidly descending creature.  The blade sank into the soft underbelly, the weight of the animal staggering and almost knocking him off his feet. 

An unearthly shriek sounded as a gush of thick black gunk – “Is than blood?” he thought, recoiling at the gore – spurted over his arm and chest.  He allowed the creature’s momentum to carry its twitching body over his head and into a bush behind him.  Darius stood there, astounded, staring at the dying carcass.  It was large – the size of half-grown calf, covered with coarse black hair with eight jointed legs.

“By the Powers!” he breathed, watching the thing in a kind of horrified fascination.  “Is that a…a spider?” 

Within moments, the twitching stopped and the legs curled over the body in death.  Darius drew a deep, shaky breath and bent over the dead spider to retrieve his knife.  He yanked it out, grimacing at the gore and the smell and the horror of the dark thing there beside the path.

A soft choking sound behind him brought him out of his paralyzed reverie and back to awareness.  He returned to Cinder, who thankfully had assumed a protective stance over the child cowering at his feet. 

“It’s alright, child,” Darius said, crouching down and trying to see the little face currently covered with two scratched and bleeding hands.

“It’s dead, see?” The little head shook, side to side.  No.

“But it is, little one.  It is dead,” Darius reassured, trying to think how else he might comfort the terrified youngster.  “Nothin’ will hurt ye now…”  His voice trailed off as an unpleasant thought occurred to him.  Oh no. 

“Child,” he said urgently.  “Are there more?”

The little one, face still covered, did not respond.  Darius stood, eyes frantically scanning the trees overhead. 

“Where?” he rasped, talking to himself, trying to stay calm and remain as quiet as possible so as not draw any further attention to their location.  He eyed the brush from which the child had appeared and made a quick decision. 

“Stay here with Cinder,” Darius said. 

The little hands came down at the sound of his voice and Darius found himself staring into frightened, tear-filled eyes the color of new leaves.  He finally took notice of the ethereal beauty of the child’s face and caught his breath.  The boy’s ebony colored hair covered his ears so Darius couldn’t see, but…oh, surely not!

Kneeling before the little one, he held both hands up to show he posed no threat and asked, “Edhel?” 

The child nodded slowly.  Darius sank back on his heels.  An elven child – here in the deep woods – apparently alone.  He closed his eyes, hoping the elfling’s parents were not somewhere on the path ahead, injured or worse.  He had to find out.  Now. 

Darius opened his eyes again to find the child watching him fearfully.  He smiled – or tried to and said softly, pointing to himself, “Darius.”

The green eyes widened and the little one sniffed tearfully, but pointed to himself and whispered, “Gilfileg.”

“Well met, Gilfileg,” Darius said.  “This is Cinder.”

He rose and patted the big horse’s neck, taking care not to make any sudden movement towards the child, who also stood and leaned against the animal, one small hand stroking the bay coat.  Darius breathed a sigh of relief.  The elves of this forest guarded their young closely – he couldn’t remember anyone in Lake-town saying they had ever seen any children of the Firstborn, even accompanying the small groups of adults that sometimes visited the market square.  He certainly had never seen any and did not want this little one’s first memory of man to be a frightening one.

“Gilfileg,” Darius said quietly.  When the boy looked up at him, he gestured to him.  “Stay.  Stay here with Cinder.  I’ll be right back.”  Gilfileg shrank back against the horse, eyes filling with tears again as he realized the man was leaving him alone.

Darius stiffened against the stark pleading in those green eyes and made himself turn and walk up the trail.  The faster he looked, the sooner he could return and they could leave. 

He immediately noted how dark it seemed, the undergrowth thick, the air stifling.  He crept along the path, staying close to the edge, eyes constantly examining the trees.  He saw a stand of older oak and larch ahead that seemed oddly darker than the surrounding trees. 

He stopped behind some concealing bushes, crouching close to the ground and freezing in place.  Barely breathing, he heard again that strange clacking sound of spiny legs scrabbling against bark.  He inched forward to get a better look and the hair lifted on the back of his neck at the nightmare laid out before his eyes. 

The huge old trees appeared dark because of the thick, sticky strands that could only be spider silk dangling from their branches.  They were covered, limbs weighted down with ropes of webs.  Hanging from the webs were squirrels and birds, all partially or completely wrapped in silk; in one web hung what looked to be a fawn or small deer.  What particularly frightened him, though was the sight of a large, ominously pulsing egg sac anchored in one web-draped tree.  He spotted two of the black monsters scrambling among the branches of a far tree, busily adding to their nest.

Darius turned and made his way silently back to his horse and the child, swallowing bile and fear as he moved.  He found Cinder standing statue-still, the elfling huddled at his side. 

“Good boy,” he murmured, caressing the horse’s nose.  “Ye know better than to move around and call attention to yerself, eh?”  Cinder bobbed his head, shifting restlessly. 

Darius felt a tug on his shirt and looked down into eyes filled with questions.  “I wish I could answer in a way ye could understand, child,” he murmured regretfully.  He took a chance and laid his hand on the dark hair, pleased when Gilfileg didn’t flinch away. 

“Will ye ride with me, youngling?” he asked, gesturing to Cinder’s back.  “We need to get out of here now.”  Bright eyes watched the gesture and understanding Darius' intent, he nodded. 

“Excellent,” breathed Darius, mounting Cinder and reaching down to lift Gilfileg up before him. 

The elfling curled into the man, clutching his shirt with both hands.  Darius wrapped one arm around the shivering little body and pulled the horse around, letting him find his way down the path.  They traveled thus almost a half hour before Darthon deemed it safe to nudge the big horse into a trot.  Another half hour, and he let Cinder have his head, trusting the intelligent animal to know how fast to move and still keep to their path.

They traveled that way for what seemed an age when suddenly, Cinder shied, coming to a bone-jarring halt.  Darius clutched the elfling close, drawing his knife as all around him warriors dressed in the green and brown garb of the Greenwood dropped from the trees, arrows knocked and aimed directly at the man on the horse. 

“NO!” he cried at the same instant another voice shouted, “Daro!”

~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Translation:  edhel – elf (s.)   Daro! - Halt!

A/N:  I have been reliably informed that the use of names for men based on Sindarin would be inappropriate at this point in the story, so I am changing the names of my OC characters (men).  Oh, and the horse, too!  Below is a list of the changes, which I know is confusing, but necessary at this point.

Darthon - now Darius

Haldor (Darius' father) - now Olwain

Rirdon (Darius' brother)- now Rendan

Galen (Rendan's son)- now Garlon

Firion (the horse) - now Fire's Flame, affectionately nicknamed Cinder because of his placid nature

I'm sorry for any confusion this might cause...I'm going to put this same name change note in the next chapter, too!  Also, other the Prologue and this chapter have been edited to tighten things up a little and correct some other little mistakes.  Thanks for your patience, all!