The sweet cloying scent of crushed flowers filled the air as the contingent of elven warriors stormed forwards. For once, no birds sang at their passing and, instead, the darkening woods were filled with a pressing, unnatural silence that made everything seem too still. Even the horses' breathing seemed muted in the nothingness, though their riders drove them hard enough that their silver flanks shone with sweat. At their head, Lord Elrond Half-Elven rode forwards with a single minded determination that would have scared any who were held beneath it for it ensured that blood would be spilt that night and that a red dawn was on the horizon.

Not two days had passed since the messenger had raced into Imladris, bruised and blood soaked, stumbling with his fatigue yet bringing with him the news of a tragedy that had deeply shaken the elven settlement to the core. The Healer Lord did not even stay to see to the ellon's treatment, only relegating it to one of the other's that worked in his halls, before gathering the guards and setting out to the golden woods of Lothlorien in pursuit of the company of orcs that had dared try and take his wife from him, though thankfully, his daughter had remained behind, or even Melkor himself would have feared to stop him from taking his vengeance. Since then, the hunting party had halted only when it could not be avoided without causing damage to the horses and were hot on the trail of the vile beasts. They would catch up to them that night, and it was this that saw a spark of phrenic energy passing through the silent air.

When their sensitive ears finally picked up the sound of laboured breathing and pounding feet from beyond their company, they knew that they were close to their target, but no sooner had they begun to slow their mounts, intending to surround their targets, than a scream had split the air, encouraging them to ride faster and eliminating any lingering traces of mercy that may have clung to their thoughts beforehand. By disregarding the need for stealth, they reached the small clearing in which the fell beasts had decided to set up camp in less than a minute, and, with the silken whistle of an arrow splitting the air, the desperate struggle began.

Freeing the light sword at his side once again after many years of peace and un-marred happiness, Elrond rode towards the centre of what was quickly becoming a massacre as the 50 elves took down the band of 20 orcs as easily as a scythe would be used to cut grass, to where he could see a pale figure bathed in the weak moonlight. Seemingly oblivious to the conflict going on around her, Celebrian remained where she was, kneeling on the blackened grass and staring down at the ground, her golden hair hiding her face from view though it did nothing to veil the trembling of her slender shoulders, the only sign of her tears.

For a moment, Elrond's heart soared as he saw his mate seemingly unharmed and well enough to support herself, but he could not banish the piercing scream that still rang through his head and, as he grew closer, he found the cause of such an agonised cry and he had to lock his knees to prevent himself from falling to the ground from his steed in shock.

Dark, seeping lines of blood tarnished the pale blue of his wife's worn travelling gown in a pattern that could only come from a whip, though her position indicated that she had made no move to defend herself from the assault. It was a notion that both confused and worried the elven Lord and he silently thanked the Valar that his sons had been away from home when the messenger had arrived, meaning that they were not in the hunting party. If they had been present to hear of the news, then there was no way that he would have been able to stop them from accompanying their group, as it was, he could only be thankful that they would not be present for the sight that he was sure would haunt both his waking and unconscious mind for many years to come.

Growing closer now that he had regained some measure of control over his emotions, he dismounted from his steed and took the final step so that he could lay a soothing hand on the elleth's shoulder, the jarring cacophony of battle fading around them just enough that he could hear the soft sobs that seemed to wrack her too slim frame in a manner that made his hands shake with fury just as sure as the large gashes on her back made his vision flare red. To his surprise, and immense relief, she leaned slightly into his touch rather than flinching away, he did not think that his heart could bare it if his love had moved away from him now.

"Celebrian… we must leave this place, it is too open for us to remain much longer… we must return you to Lothlorien so that you can be healed. Please, you need to stand."

He continued his whispered yet desperate petitions for many long minutes, until the battle was won and their guard had taken up a position in a ring formation around the Lord and Lady, protecting them from any beasts that may be drawn to the scent of blood without intruding on the private moment, but the woman would not be moved. All she did was kneel there, her head bent as she sobbed silently, seemingly unaware of what was occurring around her, too caught up in her own thoughts. It broke the hearts of the warriors to see their sweet and beloved lady in such a state, but none were as effected as her doting husband who could only look at her with eyes that begged for her to be well and to come back to him.

They remained as such for many long moments until a cry went up from one of the scouts and all eyes shifted to the tree line where the sound had originated. Sharing a look with his long-time friend and general, Elrond gestured for Erestor to go and see what the problem was, unwilling to leave his injured mate for even a second, though his senses remained on high alert, searching for a foe to take his anger out upon in an acceptable manner. However, the younger elf had barely moved a foot out of the protective ring when Glorfindel stepped out of the wooded area that had caused the previous alarm. It was then that the Elf lord moved away, though only slightly, from the crumpled form of his wife, thought this alone was an unconscious act born from shock and intrigue that this new occurrence stirred.

Held tightly to the balrog slayer's chest was a small figure who seemed to be half attempting to hide themselves from the view of the elves around them by hiding their face in the Balrog slayers's neck. From this position, all that Elrond could see was a lock of red- gold hair that fell from underneath the hood, though that, coupled with the size of the person being held was enough to paint a confusing picture in his mind.

"A… child? How can this be?"

What was a child doing so far away from any settlement? To be so far away from any form of safety without even the trace of guardians, it must have been a prisoner of the orcs alongside his wife, but how had it managed to get away? And why had the orcs kept it alive in the first place? He could understand them keeping his wife as a form of ransom or to ensure safe passage through the elven realms, but normally they would just eat a child they captured, as disgusting as that may seem, not drag them along with them for many days with the risk of allowing them to be captured by the slower pace. Yet that was the only reason Elrond could think of for a child so far away from human village. Some sort of force was drawing him towards the child and it was only the abrupt and jerky movement of Celebrian's head snapping up that stopped him from taking another step closer to the pair.

"Malrin… you were told to run."

The words were soft in the silent night air, but the broken whisper carried like wildfire around the assembled warriors who's eyes, that had drifted away to give a sense of privacy, instantly locked back onto the small frame in Glorfindel's arms. If the lady had spoken to her in the Sindarin language and addressed her with an elven name, that meant that the mystery around the child had grown. As far as they were aware, only the Dunadain taught their children to speak in the tongue of the elves though only a select few of that number named them from the same language, but none of their number had such a strange coloured hair. At least the Lady's words had confirmed that the child had been a captive of the orcs, though there was obviously more to that story than there first appeared to be. Possibly more than any of them were willing to find out on such an already troubled night.

Taking a quick step back towards his still kneeling beside his injured wife, and only then noticing that he had moved so far from her side, Elrond sent her a sharp look, begging her to explain the situation, even though a large part of him was still immensely relieved that she had awoken from her stupor at all. Despite this however, a distant part at the back of his mind told him that he did not want to hear the explanation... It could not end well and would only introduce more pain to the situation.

"Celebrian… what…?"

He would have pressed further with his questions, but the elleth silenced him with a quick shake of her head, looking more like herself now than the wraith she had resembled only moments prior, before turning back to the young girl who seemed to be staring at her intently from where she had just been set down. For a moment the two just stared at each other as though checking that both were mostly intact after their ordeal, but then another voice broke the mounting silence in a manner that made everyone but the two freeze in shock and stubborn denial.

"Where's Merlinor?"

The soft spoken words had been announced in such a clear, bright voice that it had to have been the child, yet the light undertone that lent a melody even to the spoken words could not have belonged to any but an elf. This realisation struck just as his wife moved her arms away from where they had been cradled protectively against her chest showing clearly the bundle that she had been holding for the first time and the old Elven Lord felt his heart stop.

Curled up in the pale arms was the form of a young boy who looked to be no more than 3 mortal years, roughly the same age as the girl, with skin so white that it was obviously from blood loss, and raven hair that fell over his ashen face, but most shocking of all was the small, pointed ear that could be seen poking out of the matted strands that seemed to be coated in blood. An Elfling… but he must have been mistaken surely? This whole experience must be the painful creations of his own mind that had trapped him inside of a night terror and when he woke he would be settled in bed with Celebrian safe and warm beside him. It had to be... though he could not quite bring himself to believe that scenario to be true...

While the rest of the guards were still standing in shock at the implications of this meeting, the girl from earlier darted forwards so that she was knelt with her back to Elrond as she clung to Celebrian's arm, gazing down at the small figure that was barely moving to breath. With the speed of her movement, the child's hood had fallen down too, revealing a small, perfect face that confirmed their earlier suspicions, thought the streaks of blood and cuts that marred her delicate features made even some of the more seasoned warriors flinch.

Two Elfings.

Two injured Elflings.

Elflings.

But that simply wasn't possible.

Around 2000 years ago, the elves had found that the, already low, frequency of Elflings born had begun to decrease in frequency, and, with the last elf born being Arwen who had reached adulthood nearly 300 years previously, they had believed that there would be no more children born to them east of the grey havens. It had hurt the eldar immensely to realise that there would no longer be the sound of childish laughter in any of their cities, and many had lamented the lack of new life… Yet here were two who could be no more than 10 years of age… both of whom looked as though they had been through a war as well as famine, as the ribs of the young boy could be seen through the holes in the black cloak he was tenderly wrapped in.

A deep fury filled his thoughts as he saw the trails of blood on the girl's neck and the way that the scarlet liquid seemed to drip from the left arm of the small boy but he still could not move. How had they come to situation in the first place? Why had this miraculous new lives not been guarded as fiercely as the life of his daughter had been when she was still small, held more jealousy than any dwarf could love a gem? It did not seem possible that the children would be left to the mercy of such demons even if their parents had been slain in a raid, which was a very real possibility. And how had the news of their births not reached him? Even if they had been born in Mirkwood, as the girl's hair colour suggested seeing as only sylvan blood created anything other than the normal blonde or raven shades, his relationship with Thraduil had not deteriorated to the extent where he would keep such important information from him. So why was he only learning of their existence now?

The sight of his mate's flinch as she pulled the girl into a tight embrace finally snapped the elf Lord out of the shock of his sudden realisation and he stepped forwards quickly to catalogue the injuries of the three, though, no sooner had he taken a small step forwards than the girl, Malrin, jerked closer into Celebrian's hold, hiding her young face in the older elleth's hair. From just the way that the child was standing, it was clear to see that, not only were there several wounds covered by her cloak, but also that she was terrified.

Brought up short by the very real idea that this type of attitude may have been the product of torture (why else would an efling flinch away from their own kin? By the vallar... and elfling!), Elrond could do little but crouch down so that he was more on the child's level. Hopefully, he would not seem so intimidating if he was not looming over her. Behind his back, he signalled for the ring of warriors around them to disperse, giving the small group more room. It was clear from the reluctance of their movements that the guards did not want to move away from the new found children, but they all followed the order, moving around the clearing, gathering the bodies to be placed in a pyre somewhere where the children would not be able to see it. If their actions around the corpses held any more malice than normal, he did not comment, focusing only on the impossible truth before him now.

Surprisingly enough, it was only Glorfindel who remained in the field at all, keeping watch over them in case more enemies appeared. They could not afford to chance such a thing right at that moment. Though the other guards were sure to be scattered around the trees. No one would harm the elflings again, that much was a certainty.

"You're safe now little on. It is not my intention to hurt you."

He spoke softly in an attempt as to not startle Malrin, who was still cowering from him, but they seemed to have no effect, leading him to shoot a pleading look at Celebrain. Their wounds needed to be addressed as soon as was possible, the small ellon more than the rest of them, but he was not going to risk scaring the child even more than she already was if there was any way around it.

For a moment, the older elleth only stared back at him, a dark shadow in her eyes that had never been there before, and it pained him that such a thing would be there now, but, after seeming to decide something, she turned back to the girl who appeared to be attempting to melt into her side, and slid a soft hand through her bright curls. Leaning forwards, she moved to whisper into a small, delicately pointed ear, but no sooner had she moved than a violent flinch shot through her body. Faster than he could react, the girl span round and grabbed the one she had been taking shelter from only a second before and, with her small arms, helped to steady her shivering form.

"You did not say that you were hurt!"

The young voice was soft, but her words held a trace of accusation along with the hysterics that had been there before, and it was this that shocked the Elven Lord once again, even though he was beginning to think that such a thing was impossible after such a night. The tiny elleth sounded indignant as though she expected to have been told such things straight away. It was endearingly sweet… in a morbid sort of way, and invoked a genuine, if bitter sweet smile from Celebrian, one that her mate had not seen since Arwen had lain ill with a fever when she was only 30 or so.

"And you are tired. There was no reason to burden you now, and Malrin… I believe your brother needs more aid than I. He attempted to block their blows from me…. The stupid boy…."

"Yes… He does that."

The response and the end of his mate's statement was uttered with a mixture of fondness and irritation that would have made Elrond laugh if not for the thought that the child had been injured in any of the ways that his mind so readily supplied him with. The situation was too surreal to be true and, after sharing a look with Glorfindel that was both bemused and blood thirsty in equal parts, he stepped forwards, hoping to bring the conversation back to rational topics that did not including a child who was little more than a babe attempting to act the hero in a situation that he should never have experienced in the first place.

"Be that as it may… we must leave. I cannot treat any of you here, and it is not safe to linger anyway. Let us be off to Lothlorien before anything else finds us."

He attempted to convey his urgency in a way that would not spook the child, but it was true that they really did have to leave now. However, he need not have tried to preserve the girl's emotional state as, when she turned to him, her oddly golden eyes seemed to be filled with knowledge that belied her apparent age. How was it possible for a single child to have a gaze so haunted and old?

Edited 14/06/15: mainly minor spelling errors and rewording.