[Ithaeliel]

Anroth was lost.

He thought to himself, what a fool you are! You come to Mirkwood for your first time, knowing nothing of the lay of the forest, asking no one for help, and yet you come into one of the most perilous places of Middle-earth armed with only a sword and your intuition? You are a fool indeed, Anroth.
It was night in the forest, and he had lost his path. He knew not if he was any closer to Thranduil's realm than to Dol Guldur. He sook news from the Elven-king of the dealings in the Northeast, for the wind had borne to him when he was in the Hithaeglir a rumour of strange and eerie shadows that haunted the forest by nightfall, and they were more than just spiders.
And even as he mused over this, Anroth heard a faraway crash and a garbled shriek like that of a monster. "One of Ungoliant's children... so it is true," he said to himself as he drew his sword and ran swiftly toward the fray.