Chapter Eighteen: The Forest of Gall and the Little People
(Note: This is not official version and may be removed in the near future. This do not reflect what is read in the podcast version, nor any other version you may encounter. I have preserved the rough form for posterity — or something like that. This novel has since been rewritten.) Dawn had come and gone faster than James had thought possible. Little light could push through the canopy to the forest floor. The foliage was so dense that at times they were forced off the raggedy path to get over fallen trees or twisted walls of roots. He hadn’t seen anything like it before. Even in Woodton, where the trees and brush were considerably thick, it would have been easier to travel than here in the Forest of Gall. The rumble of the earth had long passed away, or perhaps it was that they had traveled far enough now that they could not feel the vibrations. Either way, James knew that Luthien would be marching on Ti’nagal and, despite the two rivers of magma, the city would fall. There were not enough soldiers, nor enough fortifications or weaponry to repel the army of thousands upon thousands. As it was, they had traveled through most of what seemed to be morning, moving constantly at a northward direction. There were little to no sharp turns, though the path wound back and forth like a slithering snake. Birds and other creatures made miniscule amounts of noise as they traveled, but every so often they heard the cry of tiny mammals, like a pack of bickering squirrels in the distance. But James did not attribute these new noises to anything that Belrin had told them about the creatures that lived here. The calls were not sentient, not as far as he could tell. They were rodent in nature, like some distant and altogether other-worldly relative to the animals he had become familiar with back home. He imagined the little creatures with bushy tails, collecting nuts and hopping tree to tree and screeching whenever a predator or competitor appeared. Soon the sun began to take its leave and the light faded. Pea retrieved his torch and lit it with magic. The light shined bright and cast dark shadows beyond its circle. Here the light had places to go, unlike back in the tunnel beneath the river. “We should set up camp soon,” Pea said. Darl grunted. “I would be apprehensive to stay the night here in this place. It is too alive for my tastes.” “It’ll take us a few days to get through this,” James said. “It’s not exactly a straight shoot through the woods.” “I know, but if we can help it, I would prefer not putting ourselves in a position to become targets.” “You think there is truth to what Belrin said.” Pea leaned sideways so that he was visible behind Bel’ahtor’s head. James looked back, realizing by this point that he did not have to control Mirdur’eth in any fashion—the animal would walk without his aid. “I think there is enough truth there to be cautious. If Belrin is wrong and there are no dangerous creatures living here, then we have sprites and the like that might hinder our journey while we sleep. They are mischievous little creatures.” “As there are everywhere.” “Let’s just go farther. I do not feel even the slightest comfortable here.” The Blaersteeds pushed on, passing through brush and long reaching tree limbs as if they were nothing more than minor hindrances. Pale moonlight made its way through the canopy; the sun made its last stand at the horizon before slowly dipping away into the mountains. Stars shined above, visible in rare holes in the forest. Silence reigned supreme in the Forest of Gall. Night brought with it no sounds other than the soft clacks of the Blaersteeds. Even the strange squirrel noises in the distance were gone, replaced now by nothing. It felt too silent to James. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else. The silence was too abnormal. He had never been in a forest that had no sound in the night. He could remember the owls hooting loud and clear in Woodton. There could be no mistake that this forest in the land of Traea was silent for a very specific reason and he knew deep down that it had nothing to do with there being a lack of night creatures. Something made life here stay quiet; something frightening even to those that wandered in the dark. A few more hours passed and the forest parted slightly, opening the path fully to the night sky, bathing it in the white-blue light of the moon. James gathered that this might be the closest thing to a clearing in the Forest of Gall. It provided a mere ten feet of open space, but it looked like a fissure in the earth covered on both sides by impenetrable walls of trees. Here Mirdur’eth stopped and refused to go any farther no matter how hard he tried to coax the black steed. He turned back to find that both Pea and Darl were at a standstill too. Darl looked far from happy about it. James thought that at any moment the old man would start screaming at his horse. But no such thing happened. Darl finally gave up, peered grumpily at James, and said, “Apparently we can’t go any farther.” James smiled. “These horses have minds of their own.” Mirdur’eth snorted loudly. “Sorry, I meant Blaersteeds.” The steed nodded once and shuddered. “We’ll make camp here,” Darl said, dismounting and guiding his steed to the center of the clearing. “Collect some wood for a fire,” he said to James. “Not much. Just enough for a small flame.” Then the old man tied his steed to a root that stuck up in a tall curve from the center of the path. James dropped and quickly did the same, though Mirdur’eth shifted uncomfortably. Pea was not far behind with