I promise to get to my other stories as soon as I can. For now, I hope you enjoy the beginning of this one. :)
Madness Grows Where Shadows Form
*Its madness, pure madness. But how could he fall to such a predator?* Elrond questioned himself as he looked over his friend.
Glorfindel lay quietly, staring up at the ceiling in Elven sleep. His pale face was drawn, and thin. Delicate eyes of emerald glinted darkly, even in rest, and his lips moved slightly, but no sound passed through them. His slender but strong arms were chained to the bedposts, as were his feet. Elrond hated keeping him like that, but it was the only way to keep him from hurting himself, and others.
Elrond found his eyes tracing the fine scars upon the Elf's face and limbs. Though he didn't seem to be truly hurt, Glorfindel had suffered mentally and spiritually from the harsh treatment the orcs had placed upon him. They had been fools to believe him when he said he was all right. If they had known, they could have helped him better. Elrond's guilt lay heavy upon him for that. He should have known, better then any other. Glorfindel had been his friend since he had returned from Mandos and Elrond had found him. He should have known that Glorfindel's wounds went far deeper then flesh, he should have known!
Anger at himself burned within his grieved heart, but it burned brighter at who should really be blamed. The orcs had taken Glorfindel, and horribly broke him using magic from some strange source. That source was the cause of this great pain, and he would get his revenge as soon as he found out who this source was.
A flash of Glorfindel lying upon the ground, his blood running freely along the ground. His clothes ripped and soiled, his hair tangled, bloody, and cut off in some places. And his eyes, listless, hopeless...
"Ada?" a soft voice called to him.
He shook his head and tried to clear the thought from his mind. He turned to his daughter. She nodded to him grimly, her beautiful face marred still by a bruse upon her check. Elrond grimaced at the sight of it. Glorfindel had done that...
"Has anything changed?" Arwen asked.
"Nay, he rests, and has yet to awaken," Elrond said softly.
Arwen knelt by her Father's side, and gently took his hands in her's.
"He shall get well, Ada. He is strong, and has defeated evil, death, and madness before. He shall do so again," she assured him.
He smiled weakly, and raised one of his hands to caress her check, "You sound so much like your Mother."
"She knows it as I do," she said, and lay a hand upon his where it rested on her check.
"I know. You are both wise. But as to your Mother, where is she?" Elrond asked.
"Here, love," Celebrian's soft voice came as she laid a delicate hand upon his shoulder.
Elrond looked up to her, and took comfort from her presence.
"I had best go see to Toron. He is restless that his master has not come," Arwen said softly, letting go of her Father's hands and rising.
She left silently, and Elrond knew why she left, to give them time alone.
"I fear for him, love," Elrond sighed, turning his gaze back to the silent figure on the bed.
"I know, dear, we all do. But Arwen is right, he shall come through this, as he has done so before," she said softly.
He gently took her free hand and kissed it then held it for comfort. The memory bubbled up in him again, and only her touch kept the guilt at bay.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Three weeks ago....
They had been on a scouting patrol of the border of Rivendell when they had been ambushed. They had sensed their attackers too late, and it had cost them.
"Glorfindel, we should turn back," Elrond said, looking over to the golden haired Elf.
"I believe you are right, Elrond. I do not like this, something is wrong," Glorfindel said, turning Toron around.
The horse nickered then snorted in alarm. Glorfindel turned, and noticed the shapes.
"I fear it may be too late," he said, putting his hand to his sword.
Elrond followed suit, seeing the hunched figures walking slowly towards them. As the figures grew closer, he could desern wicked looking swords, bows and arrows, spears, and other such weapons. And closer still they came, till the moonlight shown upon the hidous faces of the orcs that were approaching them. Elrond quickly drew his sword, Glorfindel right behind him.
The orcs surrounded them, angling their own foul weapons in readiness to strike. Suddenly the foul creatures charged them, yelling fierce battle cries. Elrond's horse let out a shrill cry as the orcs drew swiftly near. Elrond slashed at the attacking orcs, slicing at them from his steed's back. His horse let out another cry, and fell, with him still on top. Elrond jumped off before the horse could fall upon him, and continued his attack against the orcs. His horse had gotten to his feet, and quickly galloped off, leaving the battle.
Elrond fought on, until he heard a sharp cry of pain. He turned to see Glorfindel, a black arrow imbedded in his chest, fall from his horse. Elrond tried to make toward his wounded companion when a sharp pain entered his side. He looked down at the black arrow embedded there, then cut deeply into the orc trying to attack him. Suddenly the orcs retreated, for they saw they could not over come the Master of Rivendell with their ever-dwindling numbers.
Elrond watched them retreat, then made his way to where he had seen his friend fall.
"Glorfindel?" Elrond called, a hand holding his wounded side.
But the Elf was nowhere to be seen, for the orcs had taken him.
Madness Grows Where Shadows Form
*Its madness, pure madness. But how could he fall to such a predator?* Elrond questioned himself as he looked over his friend.
Glorfindel lay quietly, staring up at the ceiling in Elven sleep. His pale face was drawn, and thin. Delicate eyes of emerald glinted darkly, even in rest, and his lips moved slightly, but no sound passed through them. His slender but strong arms were chained to the bedposts, as were his feet. Elrond hated keeping him like that, but it was the only way to keep him from hurting himself, and others.
Elrond found his eyes tracing the fine scars upon the Elf's face and limbs. Though he didn't seem to be truly hurt, Glorfindel had suffered mentally and spiritually from the harsh treatment the orcs had placed upon him. They had been fools to believe him when he said he was all right. If they had known, they could have helped him better. Elrond's guilt lay heavy upon him for that. He should have known, better then any other. Glorfindel had been his friend since he had returned from Mandos and Elrond had found him. He should have known that Glorfindel's wounds went far deeper then flesh, he should have known!
Anger at himself burned within his grieved heart, but it burned brighter at who should really be blamed. The orcs had taken Glorfindel, and horribly broke him using magic from some strange source. That source was the cause of this great pain, and he would get his revenge as soon as he found out who this source was.
A flash of Glorfindel lying upon the ground, his blood running freely along the ground. His clothes ripped and soiled, his hair tangled, bloody, and cut off in some places. And his eyes, listless, hopeless...
"Ada?" a soft voice called to him.
He shook his head and tried to clear the thought from his mind. He turned to his daughter. She nodded to him grimly, her beautiful face marred still by a bruse upon her check. Elrond grimaced at the sight of it. Glorfindel had done that...
"Has anything changed?" Arwen asked.
"Nay, he rests, and has yet to awaken," Elrond said softly.
Arwen knelt by her Father's side, and gently took his hands in her's.
"He shall get well, Ada. He is strong, and has defeated evil, death, and madness before. He shall do so again," she assured him.
He smiled weakly, and raised one of his hands to caress her check, "You sound so much like your Mother."
"She knows it as I do," she said, and lay a hand upon his where it rested on her check.
"I know. You are both wise. But as to your Mother, where is she?" Elrond asked.
"Here, love," Celebrian's soft voice came as she laid a delicate hand upon his shoulder.
Elrond looked up to her, and took comfort from her presence.
"I had best go see to Toron. He is restless that his master has not come," Arwen said softly, letting go of her Father's hands and rising.
She left silently, and Elrond knew why she left, to give them time alone.
"I fear for him, love," Elrond sighed, turning his gaze back to the silent figure on the bed.
"I know, dear, we all do. But Arwen is right, he shall come through this, as he has done so before," she said softly.
He gently took her free hand and kissed it then held it for comfort. The memory bubbled up in him again, and only her touch kept the guilt at bay.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Three weeks ago....
They had been on a scouting patrol of the border of Rivendell when they had been ambushed. They had sensed their attackers too late, and it had cost them.
"Glorfindel, we should turn back," Elrond said, looking over to the golden haired Elf.
"I believe you are right, Elrond. I do not like this, something is wrong," Glorfindel said, turning Toron around.
The horse nickered then snorted in alarm. Glorfindel turned, and noticed the shapes.
"I fear it may be too late," he said, putting his hand to his sword.
Elrond followed suit, seeing the hunched figures walking slowly towards them. As the figures grew closer, he could desern wicked looking swords, bows and arrows, spears, and other such weapons. And closer still they came, till the moonlight shown upon the hidous faces of the orcs that were approaching them. Elrond quickly drew his sword, Glorfindel right behind him.
The orcs surrounded them, angling their own foul weapons in readiness to strike. Suddenly the foul creatures charged them, yelling fierce battle cries. Elrond's horse let out a shrill cry as the orcs drew swiftly near. Elrond slashed at the attacking orcs, slicing at them from his steed's back. His horse let out another cry, and fell, with him still on top. Elrond jumped off before the horse could fall upon him, and continued his attack against the orcs. His horse had gotten to his feet, and quickly galloped off, leaving the battle.
Elrond fought on, until he heard a sharp cry of pain. He turned to see Glorfindel, a black arrow imbedded in his chest, fall from his horse. Elrond tried to make toward his wounded companion when a sharp pain entered his side. He looked down at the black arrow embedded there, then cut deeply into the orc trying to attack him. Suddenly the orcs retreated, for they saw they could not over come the Master of Rivendell with their ever-dwindling numbers.
Elrond watched them retreat, then made his way to where he had seen his friend fall.
"Glorfindel?" Elrond called, a hand holding his wounded side.
But the Elf was nowhere to be seen, for the orcs had taken him.