Chapter Three
Forcing the despairing thoughts from his mind, Glorfindel poured all of his concentration and resolve into one thing. They had to find Lord Elrond, before it was too late.
It was fortunate that Glorfindel brought Caranor along, for it was the sharp-eyed young elf who spotted them.
"Glorfindel! Over here!" he called, gesturing with excitement at something on the ground.
After rushing over to his companion's side, Glorfindel knelt to closer inspect Caranor's find. They were deep tracks, deep enough to have not been completely filled with snow yet. The tracks had not been left by any animal. Someone had plowed his or her way through the snow, and not long ago. Glorfindel's heart leapt, before promptly sinking again. Elrond was able to walk over snow- he would not have left tracks like this. Or at least, not if he was well.
But these tracks were their only lead and their only hope, Glorfindel decided. Not letting himself doubt for a moment, he took off at a run to follow them before they were covered and lost in the blizzard, with Caranor quick behind.
As the two elves followed the trail, it was almost immediately obvious that whoever had left the tracks was completely lost and disoriented in this storm. The trail did not go straight, but instead veered left or right unpredictably. Despite this, it led in a more-or-less northerly direction as Glorfindel had guessed.
They ran as fast they could force themselves to move, consciously aware of every passing moment. They did not have much time, every fleeting second was a second lost. Suddenly Glorfindel faltered.
"Where is the trail? Where is it?!" Frantic, Glorfindel whirled around and around in place as he scanned the snow. It was gone! Gone! How had he lost it? How could he? Swallowing hard, Glorfindel stood still and attempted to clear his mind. He could not afford to panic, he had to think, he had to find it again, he had to…
"Glorfindel!" Caranor shouted, pointing in the distance. "Look!" Glorfindel looked, and saw a cluster of tall trees not far ahead. The elves could see them standing firm amidst the swirling white snow, but not without great difficulty.
"Elrond might have headed there for shelter!" Caranor rationalized.
Glorfindel thought the chance was slim, but it was a chance nonetheless. Although he was reluctant to abandon the spot where he had lost the trail, he somehow doubted that it could ever be found again. So with some hesitation, he chased after Caranor who was already racing towards the trees.
The trees loomed dark but reassuring. Though most of the trees lay dormant and sleeping, a few had been recently awoken. No sooner had the elves passed beneath their ice-laden branches when the trees began to attempt communication.
"Help him," they whispered. "Help him!"
Knowing instantly who they meant, Glorfindel addressed the trees out loud.
"Where is he? Please tell us!"
In response, the trees guided the two elves, silently directing them to one especially old tree which stood a little apart from the rest. Caranor was the first to see it. With a cry, the young elf sprang forward and knelt by what at first seemed nothing more than a snow-covered mound. An instant later, Glorfindel realized who it was.
"Lord Elrond!" he gasped, and swiftly joined Caranor by the half-elf's side. After brushing most of the snow off Elrond, Glorfindel took in his friend's condition with growing distress. It was not good. Elrond's face was paler than it had ever been, and his eyes were closed. To Glorfindel's alarm, the half-elf was eerily still and silent, as if in death.
Barely restraining his fear, Glorfindel quickly searched for a pulse. With everlasting relief, Glorfindel could easily feel it- the pulse was still strong, but far too rapid for his liking.
"He's alive!" Glorfindel nearly shouted for joy, and then laughed out loud. "He's still alive!"
"Not for much longer! See his hands!" Caranor exclaimed, aghast.
Elrond had not worn gloves; now his hands had turned swollen and red. But that was not what made Glorfindel's heart almost stop with horror.
"Oh, mellon-nin!" Glorfindel whispered in heartbroken pity. "Goheno nin…"
The tips of Elrond's stiff and frozen fingers had turned an ugly black.
"He's getting frostbite, we must take him back to the cave quickly before the damage goes too deep," Glorfindel declared.
Elrond's gentle, healing hands had saved many lives in the past, and it would be a tragedy that neither elf wished to think about if their lord's hands should be permanently marred. This is only furthered their determination.
After positioning the unconscious half-elf's limp body between them, both elves slowly lifted Elrond and carefully supported him.
"Where is the cave?" Caranor asked, looking around helplessly.
"This way- I think," Glorfindel answered. It would take more than a mere blizzard for him to lose all sense of direction, but even he was unsure.
Having no better options, the two elves bravely set out once more into the raging white storm. Elrond did not stir.
A/N: This is the shortest chapter yet, but also the hardest one to write so far. I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm doing my best to get the medical conditions right, but please, please let me know if I get anything wrong.
On Elvish- I'll throw in a few elvish phrases here and there, most of which I got off of . I love that place.
On OC's- Yes, I have a (very) few OC's. NOT because I want them, but because I need them. Tolkien only wrote about so many elves; I need to fill in the blanks occasionally. Oh, and Caranor's name was agonized over for hours and carefully put together. It's not like I hastily went online and randomly picked a cool-sounding Sindarin name off of some list, spending all of two seconds in the process. Not at all.
To all reviewers- Thank you, thank you! And did I mention: thank you! You all have been very kind, and your comments had encouraged me a lot. But don't hesitate to leave constructive criticism. If you notice something I don't, it really benefits me to have it pointed out so I can fix it if possible.