Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's work and I just borrowed some of the professor's characters. The plot, however, and those characters you do not recognize from Tolkien's work, belong to me

This story can be read independently. For those of you who read 'War of Elves': It takes place between chapters 2 and 3. This story will not interfere with my updating of War of Elves. This is a side-project and will be a short ff of about maybe 20 000 - 30 000 words.


Rain fell violently from the sky, turning small creeks into raging rivers and earthy plains into muddy beds. Nothing could be heard over the sound of falling rain besides the raging of the storm that threw the droplets in every direction, causing them to find a way in even the tiniest of places, and the loud thunder that followed the lightning bolts racing through the clouds. One would think that with weather as such, no living thing would dare to be outside and brave the elements, yet there was a slim figure struggling through a forest. Mud splattered the tight leggings and the cloak, wrapped around the lithe person in the hope of holding off some of the water, was beyond use, dirtied and the fabric soaked with water.

Another lightning bolt raced over the skies overhead and glinted on the wanderer's weapons; fine blades of elven steel, two daggers crossed on his back and two elegant long knives attached to scabbards by his hip. Instead of a quiver and bow, as one might expect from a wood elf, for the person hurrying through the rain was indeed one of the people of Greenwood the Great, two leather tubes were on the male's back. The leather was of fine quality, elven ornamentations burned into the thick skins, and the straps which held it to the elf's back were buckled with clasps that were a work of art in their own right.

The figure stopped upon hearing the thunder roar only a second or two after the lightning had lit the trees around. Harsh breaths were heard even over the rain and the elf pushed wet strands of hair out of his face. He needed cover from the storm, the elf knew, however he had gotten lost and had no idea where he was or where he should turn to.

Desperate, the elf stepped to a tree and put a gentle hand against the rough bark, as if afraid he could hurt the tree that had stood at this place for many years.

"Mellon-nin," the wood elf asked. My friend. "I need shelter. Could you help me? Do you know where to I should turn?"

The wood elf with the Silvan heritage, for only Silvans could speak with trees with such ease, could feel the tree's spirit stir underneath his touch.

"A wood elf? Here, in this place? It has been many years since I last saw one of you. But you should not be out, penneth, for the storm is strong. There is a house of elves close by, only a few miles away. Maybe you can make it in time. My friends will lead you the way. Be save, little elf, and hurry."

One second of stillness followed before the elf began running again, hoping against hope he would arrive at this strange house of an elf in time to escape the brunt of the storm. His head was lowered for the rain hit his wet face painfully, the mud splashed under his hurried footsteps. However, he could hear the trees' whisper to him and he followed their lead. The miles vanished under the long, strong legs of the elf, but he was hunted by a mighty storm. Wind had begun to pull roughly on his cloak, throwing him off course with its strength.

"You are almost there," he could hear the trees' whisper and he slowed his steps. He was at the edge of the forest. From here on, the trees would not be able to guide him anymore. Before him was a deep valley and the rain hid everything that might be behind it. For all the elf knew, it could be a dead end with no hope. The icy rain hid the valley behind a curtain of streaky grey.

"There is a path at the side of the hill. If you follow it, you will be at the house in but a few minutes."

Sceptical, the elf raised an eyebrow. Another lightning bolt followed by thunder convinced him however that he did not have much of a choice but to trust the trees to not lead him astray.

The path was narrow and slippery with the water. The wood elf's eyes widened in fear as he struggled to maintain his footing. Pressed against the rocky side of the hill as tightly as he could, he only moved slowly, his hands desperately clawing into the rock for some support. He could not feel the cold anymore, the cold which was so harsh it affected him despite his elven lineage. For hours, it felt, he continued on the dangerous, slippery road. He did not look up but his gaze was transfixed on the ground just before him.

He took another step. Suddenly, the rock crumbled underneath his foot and the elf fell. Throwing his arms up with a desperate yell, the lithe figure managed to hold onto the edge. A sharp pain in his lower leg nearly cost him consciousness. Holding onto reality with all power of will he possessed, he gritted his teeth. In his fall, he must have injured his leg, badly at that. The rain continued to fall and the thunder roared loudly, as if to remind the young walker of its presence. The elf's legs were dangling into a black abyss underneath him. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Tears mingled with the rain water. A whimper escaped his lips. With all his might, the lost wanderer pulled himself over the edge. A soft cry was nearly swallowed by the deafening rain and the elf sat up to clasp his leg with both hands. As he pulled one hand aside, he could watch the rain wash blood away from his light skin.

Slowly, soaked to the bones and with his leg crying in protest, the stubborn elf who refused to give up, stood. Whimpering with each step he took, cursing in the unintelligent tongue of the Silvan people, he continued. Time seemed to have lost its meaning. However, when the elf looked up for the first time after his fall, the broken away rock in the road still within sight, he saw lights shimmering through the curtain of the wet element. Lights that warmed his heart and returned hope and courage to his battered form. Exhausted, swaying on his feet with his right leg buckling underneath him every so often, the wood elf continued his path, silver eyes transfixed on the welcoming lights in the distance. His right hand steadied him against the wall, making up for the weakness in his leg.

The wall ended and bereft of his support, the elf stumbled. Seeing the welcoming house just out of reach, the elf began to crawl towards it. Lightning struck behind him and he instinctively burrowed his head underneath his arm. The loud crash of falling rocks shock him to the core. After the noises had subsided, he continued his stubborn crawl. Across a narrow bridge and into a courtyard that had turned into a swimming pool. Standing up with the aid of an elven statue, he stumbled towards the door he could see. Leaning heavily against it, he pounded on the door with his fist, closing his eyes in exhaustion while he waited.


The dining table was awfully quiet without the twins, Elrond mused. Glorfindel had taken it upon himself to accompany Elrohir, Elladan and little Arwen to Lorien to visit their grandparents. Celebrian had decided it had been too long since she and Elrond had had some time for just themselves and so she had not gone to Lorien with their children. Therefore, Elrond and Celebrian were now sitting next to each other on a fairly empty table, only Erestor as company and he had his nose buried in a book.

Despite the children and the balrog-slayer being gone for over a week, it was only now that Elrond came to fully relax. The last week had been taxing with preparing Imladris for the storm to come and there had been several things he had neglected to take care of in the weeks leading up to Glorfindel's and his children's departure.

Elrond looked over to his wife and smiled. She was as beautiful as ever. Long, golden hair was pulled back in a loose braid and her grey eyes shone with warmth. Celebrian turned her head, having noticed she was being watched. She smiled upon seeing with what love he gazed upon her. Elrond leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against hers. His wife hesitated not to return the kiss and soon Elrond had to break away unless things went too far for the dining room. Glancing sideways, he noticed Erestor was still buried in his book. Celebrian chuckled and took his hand.

"Let us sit in the Hall of Fire before we go upstairs," she said and the sparkling in her eyes left no doubt what she intended to do once they reached their bedroom. Elrond, who found the idea very appraising, stood and offered her his arm.

The Hall of Fire lay relatively abandoned. A few guests were nursing a glass of wine while listening to the musicians who played gentle tunes. Instead of heading towards his customary armchair, Elrond pulled Celebrian against his side and they sat on a sofa. Taking a blanket, he spread it over his beloved, less for the warmth and more for the comfort. Talking in low voices, they enjoyed their own glass of wine.

Candles shone their warm light and a big fire in the fireplace spread a comfortable warmth that made it easy to enjoy the raging of the elements outside. The rain beating down heavily onto the house and the wind's hiss around the corners were typical for one of the strong autumn storms. Celebrian rested her head on Elrond's shoulder and he kissed her temple with a smile.

As the evening moved on, elves slowly trickled out of the Hall to retire to their beds. The musicians stopped playing and the Lord of Imladris nodded them goodbye. The only thing heard anymore was the fire crackling and the elements outside. Sometimes the turning of a book page mingled into the comforting sounds, but otherwise it remained silent.

Until suddenly a loud pounding interrupted the peace. Elrond tensed and Celebrian sat up. The pounding stopped for a moment, before returning once again. The brow of the wise elf-lord furrowed. Who would be pounding against the door at this time of night with such desperation? Raising quickly, Elrond hurried towards the door. He had felt no evil enter the valley. Braving himself for the coldness outside, the healer opened the door. He flinched as the icy rain hit his face.

"Forgive me for my interruption, my lord," a polite, yet utterly exhausted voice drew his attention towards the figure of an elf slumped against the closed half of the large entrance doors. In the dark, Elrond could only make out light hair under a wet hood of a useless cloak. Two tired, very bright eyes shone up to him and the same exhaustion that lingered in this elf's posture was reflected in these bright orbs. For an elf it was beyond doubt, his voice fair and light, without an accent as he used the Sindar language.

"Please, I have come to beg shelter, my Lord, for I fear I cannot brave this storm. I am wounded and weary and I do not know where I am."

Elrond stepped back immediately. He would not allow for this exhausted and desperate elf to remain on his doorstep.

"Of course, you are very welcome."

The elf pushed himself away from the closed wing of the door and stumbled inside. His leg buckled and he would have fallen had Elrond not quickly grabbed his elbows.

"Easy there," he said, concern evident in his voice. The elf was completely soaked. "Are you injured, mellon-nin?"

The elf smiled wryly and nodded.

"I slipped on my way here. I think, I may have cut my leg open, for it is bleeding and pains me greatly," he admitted.

"Let's sit you down," Elrond said and guided his new guest towards the close stairs for him to sit on. He saw how Celebrian, having followed him after hearing the elf's beg from the door, closed the door wing behind them, locking the storm out.

"Bring me a blanket for our guest, melleth," Elrond asked softly after sitting the elf down. Love. His own clothes were wet by now but he didn't pay it any heed. He kneeled in front of the stranger and pushed the wet cloak out of his way to take a look at the foot. The boot was sliced up at the side, so were the trousers underneath. The elf hissed in pain when Elrond opened the shoe laces.

"What is your name, mellon-nin?" The healer asked, focused on the injury and only glancing up long enough to see the elf bite his teeth together with an expression of pain on his face. My friend.

"Soread," the elf answered with a fleeting grin. "And may I require who you are, my Lord? I am afraid I do still not know where I am." The very polite diction spoke of this elf's schooling.

"Ah, forgive me. You are in Rivendell, in Imladris, the Last Homely House east of the Sea and I am Elrond, the Lord of this house."

He felt the elf stiffen and looked up.

"I apologize, but I will have to take your shoe off. It will hurt quite a bit," he smiled apologetic. Celebrian came with the blanket and placed it next to the elf for the time being; he should take the wet cloak off before wrapping in the blanket, otherwise he would not warm up in the slightest.

"It is fine," Soread spoke through gritted teeth, though he remained tense. A groan was heard when Elrond quickly pulled the shoe off. Taking the scissors Celebrian held towards him, he cut the trousers away to see more of the wound.

Skilfully, Elrond examined the wound. It was a deep, jarred cut from Soread's knee all the way down to his ankle. It had swollen already and was bleeding heavily.

"I will need to clean the wound and stitch it up afterwards," the healer explained. "I could do it here but I would prefer to move you to the healing wing. Do you think you can make it up the stairs? I shall aid you. Otherwise we will have to get a stretcher. And we should also get you out of your wet clothing as soon as possible."

"I will manage," Soread spoke, already battling with the clasp of the harness he wore. Only now did Elrond find the time to realise the elf was carrying two knives and two strange leather tubes on his back, in addition to two long knives at his belt. Placing his items next to him, Soread pushed the hood of his cloak back. Silver blond hair appeared underneath, and the exhausted lines of a fair face. Looking at him, Elrond could see he was quite young, about the age of the twins. His eyes were of an unrivalled silver colour mixed with grey streaks that fit perfectly to his long hair.

"Celebrian, love, would you mind preparing everything? I will follow with our guest soon," Elrond directed towards his wife who had been looking over his shoulder.

"Of course," she said and stood to hurry up the stairs towards the healing ward.

Helping the elf to stand after he had gotten rid of his wet cloak and taking his knives and the leather tubes – Soread seemed anxious to not let them out of his sight – Elrond helped the stranger up the stairs. Sensing no threat from the wanderer, Elrond put the knives on the side table of a bed in the healing wing.

Half an hour later, Soread's leg was taken care of and he was wearing warm clothing once more. Looking at the wet clothes in greens and browns with a very distinctive pattern on them, Elrond wondered where the elf came from.

"You are not from Imladris, nor from Lorien, if I guess correct by your clothing. Where do you come from, Soread? Your clothing does not remind me of what the elves of the west usually wear."

"I hail from Greenwood the Great, my Lord, though it has been many years since I last set foot into this unrivalled forest. I am a traveller and only seldom return to the vast expanses under the most beautiful tree's in all of Arda." His words spoke of a deep love for said forest. Surprised about the answer, for Elrond had not met any wood elves since that fateful meeting where Crown Prince Alcanor had nearly been killed in his house, the healer rose a brow. He smiled though and decided he had deprived the elf of his sleep for long enough. He could see Soread's eyes dropping and the elf had been tired to begin with.

"Should you require anything, Soread of Greenwood, you must only ask. I wish you a good night. May the stars shine upon your dreams."

"And I thank the Valar for leading my steps to this house, my Lord, for I do not know what I should have done without your capable hands and your warm offer of shelter." The elf directed one hand towards his chest in gratitude and bowed his head.

"Tis nothing. Rest now," Elrond smiled and left the healing ward. Outside, Celebrian was waiting for him. He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Before she could speak, he kissed her insistently, planning on continuing where they had left of. Requiting the kiss with the same fire, Celebrian stirred her husband to their bed chambers. The door fell close behind them.


Please review!

A big thanks to my beta(s) SamGreg!