Honeysuckle

The moon was out and bright, and the stars equally glittering in the sky when Idril decided to camp out by the borders of Greenwood for the rest of the night.

Death had left her the moment she disembarked from her boat, but not before giving her some unnecessary parting remarks about not getting killed and whatnots.

She'd given in and hurled a stone at him for that but he winked out before the projectile could hit him, his devious laugh echoing and grating her delicate nerves. She'd let out an annoyed huff and dismantled her boat, knowing better than to leave any trails behind her, especially on an open land like the North Undeep.

Most especially when a land named Mordor was just South of where she was, brimming with monstrous beings, Dementor-like creatures, Orcs and Goblins who were undoubtedly not Gringotts material.

It wasn't like she was the least bit frightened. She really wasn't. She's lived for a very long time to even consider a simple, disfigured Orc could successfully scare her off. She was literally an undying woman… being… whatever she was―it has been and still is an ongoing discussion since Death hasn't exactly been forthcoming about the complex details with regards to being a Master of Death, the nerve―and it'll take quite a lot of humongous effort to actually horrify her.

That was one of the reasons why she didn't have the slightest bit of problem trekking through the grasslands.

But that was just her being overoptimistic at first.

She really tried walking―she really, really did―but the plains only seemed to stretch on for miles and she'd already been walking for hours. She knew she had managed to cover a lot of ground but she'd been starting to get twitchy, wanting to cross the plains a bit more quickly before something even more troublesome came up. Idril ultimately decided to spare herself the trouble and without a second thought, conjured herself a trusty mount.

A reindeer. Because she did say she wanted one and never having been able to ride one yet either.

Saint Nick was clearly on to something. Idril should've also transfigured a sled to complete the ensemble.

Idril let out a snort, feeling amused. Details.

She flicked her hand and raised a few necessary wards around her area, casting charms to make her unheard and unseen from anything that might stumble upon her. She spelled the grass below her for a little bit of comfort and after conjuring a nice, thick blanket, Idril laid down the ground beside her reindeer and marveled a look at the great expanse of the night sky.

The stars were twinkling bright and beautiful, but there was not a single constellation on sight she could easily discern like the patterns she was familiar with from her first world and some others. A draft blew past her, unsurprisingly cold, and Idril conjured a small fire in front of her as she tugged her warm blanket closer, contemplating on the next course of travel she should take for Erebor.

She wanted to know why that mountain got such a name, wondered if it really was a literal solitary mountain among all others, distinctive and probably majestic.

She will find out, Idril inwardly declared in resolution before pulling on a face, sending the formidable forest beside her a quick and inquisitive glance, remembering her current dilemma.

She supposed the path through the forest would be the fastest way if she wanted to be on the other side in record time but Idril wasn't a fool to think that the Elves would leave her alone if she planned to go with that route. After all, a large Elven settlement was only a couple distances away, Amon Lanc's―naked hill, really?―impressive structure a dazzling vision even when she'd been miles far from the forest.

It's not like she had any problems regarding the Elves. She really, really didn't, but Idril had made a chronological list of things to do, had already ranked places to visit and categorized people to encounter, and no matter how tempting, beautiful and wise they were, the Elves were situated at the bottom of that list.

Somewhat. Idril reconsidered her list inside her head, elevating the Elves a couple numbers up just above the race of Men but just below Hobbits.

Then, Idril heard something.

It was faint, very nearly negligible and could easily be mistaken of sounds made by the whooshing of the wind but Idril unmistakably heard the rustling of the leaves and the nimble footsteps on the wood and she turned to look at the dark forest once again, inwardly thinking in wonder, The Elves were quick and immensely light on their feet but they weren't entirely noiseless.

She suddenly remembered about border patrols and Idril tossed the idea of crossing the forest right out of the window, realizing that these were dangerous times and with war undeniably lurking just on the surfaces of the shadows, she'd most likely be thrown in prison for trespassing if her audience with the King didn't go well in her favor.

"It's not like they could keep you in the bowels of their prison forever," Death suddenly remarked inside her head, his amusement over her thoughts palpable.

She let out a snort and blithely replied, "Of course not but I'm thinking about the long-term consequences of being considered a fugitive, you know. I'll not be able to visit any of the Elven realms if word got out I'm a runaway prisoner."

Death proposed a few suggestions, including the removal of memories and casting multiple identities throughout her entire journey, but Idril immediately refused on doing something so excessive and whined about how troublesome it'll be to keep up with such a game.

She didn't come here to play mind games to the free peoples of Middle-Earth, damn it. She was here because she wanted to see Arda and all its splendor.

Death made a tutting sound before drawling, "You're here because you got bored and you found the vastness of our realm stifling."

Her face twisted into a scowl, rebutting, "I was there for almost three centuries. I deserve this vacation." She let out a huff, annoyed, and added, "But that's not the point. Since crossing the forest is out of the question, I've decided to travel all the way up North just until the bases of the Grey Mountains and go East, still skirting the borders of the forest until I come out to the other end and make way straight for the lonely mountain."

"By the stars, Idril…" the ancient being huffed, sounding heavily exasperated, "Why would you choose to go all the way North when you can just go East from here? Going North is the longest route and it'll take you a couple more days to reach the other side."

Idril sat up and shrugged her shoulders, lack of concern evident on her voice when she said, "I want to see the skin changers."

"That's it?" came the incredulous question.

She rolled her eyes and answered, "That's it. 'Sides, it's not like I'm in a great hurry. I'm very well taking my time, appreciating the beauty of the sceneries. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Just like how you took your time with your trip down the river, hmm?"

"The river was a wonderful experience, thank you very much. The currents of the Anduin were a bit stronger than the Limlight but it's not like I had any difficulty stirring my boat true to its course," she countered.

"You were travelling too slow for my liking. You still are," he commented.

"It's a good thing that my wonderful vacation isn't for your own amusement then," she pointed out drily.

Death replied in anticipation, "What happens on the next few minutes hopefully will be."

Before Idril could comment on such a foreboding remark, a strong gust of wind happened upon her and with it was the awful stench of rot and the touch of death. The sounds of nickering horses, the shrill ringing of swords and rumbling voices subsequently followed and Idril immediately stood up to her feet, curious and wanting to take a closer look on what's currently happening.

The foul smell certainly was also too much for her to take.

Death's heavily amused laugh resonated in her head, "That would be the smell of the Orcs, dear."

Idril wrinkled her nose, droning, "Lovely. They've managed to accost some poor, unfortunate beings tonight too." She paused, angling her head to the side, and intriguingly remarked, "Several are going to die."

He let out a mournful sigh before mumbling, "Yes. It is regrettable we can't have the Elves in our place. The Valar would have a fit if we steal a single soul of their beloved. That particular race is rather blessed to experience rebirth."

"Please don't say anything about soul stealing so bluntly. You never know someone might overhear, especially the all-knowing. Do you want to start a bloody war?" she softly scolded, putting out her fire and treading her way to where the commotion was, leaving her trusty reindeer behind her humble campsite, "What would you even want to do with a single Elven soul?"

She felt him shrug as he casually said, "They could make our place a bit livelier… brighter even. We've only ever had human souls." He gave out a groan and whined, "Aren't you at least a little bit curious, my dear Idril? Imagine the great upheaval it will cause if we managed to take one. Just one!"

Idril continued to tread on uneven lands, the combined sounds of battle getting louder as she got closer, reasoning out on his… ridiculous idea, "The poor soul is going to be sad. And homesick. Furthermore, the probable damages and the probable unending paperwork for your fictitious war will drive me bonkers. So, no. No pilfering of souls." She made to flip her hair behind, adding in a snooty voice, "Besides, reincarnation isn't at all that special. We do it all the time."

"But they do it very differently in the Undying Lands, you know. In time, after the torn spirit is healed and well, they go back to their former bodies and will continue to stay in the Undying Lands until some great mission is set upon them," he keenly explained.

She let out a hum, saying, "How… interesting."

"Isn't it?" Death responded with great enthusiasm.

But Idril didn't answer, her attention already taken by the battle between the Elves and Orcs a few distances in front of her. Her magic continued to shroud her, allowing her to observe the ongoing skirmish without alerting anyone of her presence.

The Orcs were great in number―Idril didn't have a clue where they came from, considering she'd just been spending most of her time South from where they are until she decided to skirt the forest―but the Elves had the advantage of being in their territory, reinforcements an easy stretch and a simple call away as several good-looking Elves came out of the forest and joined the fray.

Death was unchanging wherever she went, its stretching coils heavy and palpable all around her. Several of the Orcs has already died, a scant number of dead Elves only littered about. Idril saw an Elf a few paces away, regal-looking and impressive even when he's in the middle of his own fight.

He was also severely outnumbered… with the curling wisps of death taking a secure hold on him.

The Elf is going to die and Idril was at an impasse.

"If you're feeling particularly generous tonight, you could lend a hand," Death suggested.

"And what would I get in return for my help, hmm?"

He gave out a chuckle, saying, "The amusement of killing some Orcs? Sparing the lives of the rest of these Elves?" He paused for a moment, his voice honeyed and smooth as he whispered, "The reward for saving the life of the King of Greenwood the Great perhaps?"

Idril didn't need it but wasn't that a little tempting?

A corner of her lips slanted into a smirk and in her head, Death's mellifluous laugh was both thrilled and entertained.

She summoned a few daggers and without a second thought, threw her blades straight into the Orcs' head. She'd naturally taken up lessons with all kinds of weaponry, an interest that lingered after she had used Gryffindor's magnificent sword countless years before. She was fond of spears and swords, even bows, but the versatile daggers were her favorite and she'd become brilliant in using them.

Death had laughed at her when she picked out such an antiquated hobby but his anecdotes didn't merit into anything, especially coming from someone who'd been obsessed with cupcakes and muffins for almost two years.

Her aims were accurate and one by one, the Orcs surrounding the pretty Elf dropped dead.

It also helped that daggers were easily expendable.

The Elf darted his eyes around him, startled by the sudden turnabout of his battle, but Idril remained invisible and similarly swept her gaze to the rest of his company, summoning and flinging shiny daggers into the few squirming Orcs that remained alive until they finally weren't.

It was amusing to watch the Elves turning about in complete bewilderment as they tried to locate her, all of them still cautious and wary from the events of the battle, their King joining the group and giving out orders in Elvish tongue.

Idril didn't have any trouble understanding their language―she'd already prepared for the many dialects before coming here. It had been extremely enlightening, immersing herself with the variances this world―and even had a fleeting thought of leaving her identity concealed until a great reveal but she remembered she was feeling extremely kind and eventually decided to spare them any further distress.

Besides, it's not like she couldn't take all of them in a brawl if they become too hostile.

From the cover of the night―and for a chance of some theatrical entrance―Idril slowly appeared from the shadows, putting up both of her hands in front of her for a more subservient effect and was amused when not a single Elf loosened their taut grip on their bows and swords, seemingly prepared to take a swipe and fire their nocked arrows the moment she decides to make one wrong move.

She supposed their reaction was quite fair, considering she did manage to kill most of the remaining Orcs by embedding pointy daggers straight into their disfigured heads.

The regal Elf who was supposed to die tonight strode closer towards her, simultaneously removing his helm from his head and placing it on his chest, his voice firm yet refined and pleasant to the ears as he greeted in Elvish, "My life has been spared tonight because of you, my Lady, and for that I am in your debt. I am Oropher, King of the Woodland Elves of Greenwood."

Idril tilted her head to the side, just enough to show respect to his station as an Elvenking, before equally answering in the same language that took him and the rest of the Elves by surprise, "Well met, my Lord, though I say there is no debt required. It was my choice to offer you my aid. I am Idril, a travelling scholar who came Southwest from here. I have been journeying for days now and was resting for the night when I heard the encounter."

"A travelling scholar, you say?" Oropher mused, cautiousness heard from his voice, "These are dangerous times, Lady Idril, and for you to journey across the country… Alone, I would add. Something not entirely unheard of… but not too common either." He paused, his discerning gaze heavy when he continued, "What a… bold and daring excursion you're currently undertaking."

Her lips curled upwards and Idril proudly expressed, "I am confident with my skills to defend myself when needed, my Lord, as I have learned whatever I can from my teachers. This has been my first encounter with the Orcs as I have been blessed with my travels."

Oropher continued to regard her with great scrutiny, his… handsomeness almost a distraction, "A courageous Lady you are, Lady Idril…"

Idril's eyes held firm of his own icy grey gaze as she responded, "One should be equipped and well-prepared when they are in a fervent pursuit of the vast knowledge of the world."

The Sindarin King didn't answer as he maintained his gaze on her, trying to gauge the honesty of her words and causing Idril to momentarily think whether Elves had the natural ability to read minds. Death silently answered no―except for an elleth named Galadriel who was apparently adept in the works of the mind arts―but Elves, generally, did have ability of foresight, from even the slightest bit of touch to the significant prowess of properly wielding such a gift.

The quietness seemed to stretch for far too long―and Idril didn't really want to be caught on a staring contest with the Elvenking all night long. Not because she can't but it's just a bit dull―until Oropher eventually deemed it right to answer, probably finding what he was looking for, "Indeed… And where are you currently travelling, if I may ask?"

"I was going to see and try my luck into staying with the small community of skin changers just a bit North from here and immerse myself with their ways of living if they permit it," she easily answered.

The King inquired with elevated eyebrows, "An admirable request, though I caution you tread prudently. The skin changers have always been wary of strangers and they aren't too keen in welcoming guests into their territory. They're more likely to trample you down into the ground than offer you a place to stay."

Idril made a slight bend of her head as she expressed, adding a bit of lightness on her voice, "My thanks for your counsel, King Oropher. I will keep it in mind."

Oropher let out a small smile, his grey eyes softening and warming up―at last―his delicate face bright and―dare Idril think with Death in her head―more striking.

Death snickered in reply, amused at how captivated she was with the fair beauty of this race.

More like impressed, really. Idril mused she just knew how to recognize and appreciate beauty without sounding petty.

The King proffered, "The library in Greenwood is exceptional and grand. A collection of records and journals accumulated over the years. I extend an earnest invitation for you to peruse our archives to your heart's content, Lady Idril. You are welcome in Greenwood from here on until the end of days. Consider it half… or perhaps merely a third of my payment for saving my life."

Idril had a niggling suspicion this pretty Elvenking thought her to be mortal, a zealous erudite, but human nonetheless. However, considering she wasn't showing anything that would tell her present company otherwise, Idril thought it was fine and decided not to correct them. A tad presumptuous, even for a King, but she supposed she can let it slide.

It was a lovely and significant offer. Even more so, she had a feeling he was expecting her to accept his suggestion right away.

Yeah, well. Joke's on him.

She sent him a pleasant smile and tried to flatter way out, dipping her head to demonstrate her gratefulness, "I am thankful for the opportunity, my Lord, but I fear I may not want to leave your archives for a tremendous period of time if I take a step in your kingdom. It is impertinent of me to say but I would like to continue on with the rest of my travels and will hold you onto your offer when I travel back here again."

Oropher let out a laugh, charming and deep, before acquiescing, adding, "What a daring and assertive woman you are! I genuinely look forward to welcoming you into my realm one day, Lady Idril."

Idril supposed she could work with that.