A/N: Ahhh, I'm so sorry this is taking so long. My brother still doesn't have the internet, so beta reading is getting near impossible. However, here's the next chapter. I hope there are still people reading this. Oh, a quick note, the Aragorn mentioned in here isn't the same one from LotR.

Chapter 7

"'Totally dead, way dead.'

'So not just a little dead then'"

-Cordelia and Xander, 'Welcome to the Hell-mouth'

Glorfindel stood facing her three opponents in the increasingly cramped house. She sighed; how was she going to get out of this one? Her thoughts were rudely cut off as the solider standing in front of her attacked. She blocked once, twice, thrice. A movement to her left caught her eye as the soldier from that direction lunged forward. She jumped back and hit the wall. The three men advanced on her, the first soldier smiling maliciously at her as he raised his sword to strike downwards. The other stood ready to block her escape.

The smile on the attacker's face suddenly became a look of shock. His sword fell to the ground and, as one, he and Glorfindel looked at his chest. Protruding from it was the tip of a blade, which soon disappeared as it was pulled out of the man. As he tumbled to the ground, three sets of eyes rested on the new man, who stood over the corpse.

Glorfindel's first thought was that another group of men had come to join the fight. However, when she took a closer look at the men's attire, she breathed a sigh of relief; he was one of the Dunedain, a ranger of the north.

Seeing that the other men had not quite recovered from their shock, she took the opportunity to dispose of them. Turning to the man on her right, she struck his hand, forcing him to drop his sword. Before it reached the ground, however, Glorfindel grabbed the hilt. The upward swing continued, leaving a deep slice up the man's chest. Before the man collapsed, she was turning to deal with the last attacker, but found the ranger already pulling his own sword from the man. The Dunedan looked up at her and his face split into a grin; not the grin of a bloodthirsty killer, but rather the cheery smile of a friend.

He was a handsome lad and looked no older than 30, if it hadn't been for the experience in his eyes. It was almost as hard to guess the age of a Dunedan as an elf, but the rangers did age, unlike the immortals. Looking at this man, she also realised that he looked vaguely familiar.

The sound of running feet alerted her to the door. She tensed again, ready for a fight. However, it was no man, but Cirorod. Seeing her unharmed, he relaxed. "You are unharmed Captain."

"Relatively, yes, but I believe my thanks should go to this young man."

The man's smile broadened. "Thank you, Lady Glorfindel." He paused for a moment, and his smile faded slightly. Finally, he added "You don't recognise me do you, My Lady?"

She frowned inwardly: so she had met him before. To her great frustration though, she couldn't put a name to his face. Looking at him carefully for a moment, she started to see features she recognised in the chief of the Dunedain.

"Aragorn?" she guessed. It seemed like a good guess and he couldn't really be offended by it if it were wrong.

His smile grew again. "A compliment, My Lady, but I'm afraid you are wrong. I am his son, Araglas."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Araglas? Surely not? It hasn't been that long since you were last in Imladris." No wonder she hadn't recognised him: the last time they'd met, Araglas hadn't been tall enough to reach her waist.

"Nearly 50 years, My Lady."

She shook her head in amazement; 50 year already. When did 50 years sneak past her? "You certainly have grown since I saw you last, and into a fine young man from what I've seen."

A laugh came from the door. "That's if he can ever stop grinning like a damn fool." Another man stepped into the house, a man who was clearly older, from the way he carried himself to the worn face. She recognised him beyond a doubt. "Greetings, Aragorn. I assume I should be thanking you as well for our timely rescue. Have you dealt with the remaining brigands?"

"Those that didn't flee from us. One of my men is seeing to that elf that took the arrow. A nasty hit, but not fatal." As he spoke to Glorfindel, his eyes strayed to the rivulets of blood running down her arm. "Perhaps I should have him look at your arm as well."

She didn't even spare her arm a glance as she answered, "It's nothing but a scratch. It will have healed by the time I return to Imladris."

"If you are sure, Captain," and he turned to his son. "Araglas, go help the men search the area."

The young man's smile diminished in disappointment, but he gave a hasty bow to Glorfindel. "It was a pleasure to meet you again, My Lady, even if it was only for a very brief while." He spun on his heel and marched out of the building, calling to a companion.

A smile crept across Glorfindel's face as she listened. "So he can say something without adding 'My Lady'."

Aragorn smiled in return. "He can be a little over-enthusiastic."

"He is a lively boy," Glorfindel commented, watching Araglas join his men. "A lot like his mother, if I remember correctly."

Aragorn nodded, watching his son talk to the others. "Yes, he is. It will be a sad day indeed when that boy stops smiling. Through he's not really a child any more, even by Elven standards."

Glorfindel turned to him. "Of course not, but by my age you start seeing most people as children."

Cirorod stopped beside her and held out her sword. Glorfindel looked down at the sword she currently held and wrinkled her nose in disgust. It was a heavy thing, and clumsy as well, nothing like the beautiful, elegant swords of the elves. She threw the weapon to one side and took back her own blade. Sheathing it, she turned back to the Dunedain chief and continued, "It really has been too long since you last visited us in Imladris. I am sure that Elrond would be glad to have you grace us with your company again."

Aragorn's face darkened and he frowned at the bodies scattered on the ground. "That may happen ere long. I have news for both you and Lord Elrond."

Cirorod gave the man a curious glance. "I assume you are referring to this attack on us and the village."

Aragorn nodded. "I assume you would like some answers."

Cirorod gave him a humourless smile. "Yes, I like to know why people want to kill me. It really can be quite distracting."

Aragorn shook his head. "I am afraid that I will probably offer more questions than answers."

Glorfindel sighed. "Just what I need to complete my day. Go on Aragorn; let us see if we can begin to unravel this small mystery."

(&)

Elrond looked out of his window. It was late, nearly midnight, and yet Glorfindel still had not returned. An uneasy feeling had settled over him since reading the letter. Though the feeling wasn't as strong as it had been around midday, it still remained.

After Glorfindel had failed to arrive for the evening meal, he had asked the stable hand to notify him as soon as she arrived. What on Middle-Earth could be keeping her so long? She should have been back hours ago.

He turned away from the window, rubbing his temples. She had probably just taken shelter from the rain that had been falling since mid-afternoon, or the village was further away than she had at first assumed. He was probably worrying too much. Erestor hadn't seemed worried when they had last spoken, so he had no reason to be.

However, this did nothing to ease his mind. He sat down in a large armchair in the dimly lit family room. Celebrian had long since retired to their bed, but he had been unable to sleep. It was not an obvious unease; it was more like a thought at the back of his mind, escaping his every attempt to pin it down. It was more like the unease he had when-

Elrond jumped as a knock sounded at the door. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he threw on an over-robe before answering the door.

A servant at the door bowed hastily. "Lady Glorfindel has arrived, My Lord. She has asked for you to meet her and Lord Erestor in her office."

"Thank you. You may retire for the night."

The servant bowed and left, no doubt eager to return home.

(&)

When Elrond entered Glorfindel's study he blinked in surprise. Glorfindel stood in the midst of the chaos that was her office. Her forehead was rested against Erestor's shoulder as Erestor gently rubbed her arms. However, this was not what surprised Elrond; it was the fact that Glorfindel appeared to have been dragged backwards through several large and very muddy puddles. Perhaps the most amusing part of this picture was the small puddle that had gathered round her and Erestor's feet.

Erestor looked up and smiled when he saw Elrond. "It appears that Glorfindel has had a very bad day."

"So I see."

Glorfindel's muttered voice came from Erestor's shoulder, "It gets worse."

"Oh dear," Elrond replied, trying to hide his amusement.

She turned her head to look at him and narrowed his eyes slightly. "This is not funny."

"I am sure it is not."

She straightened and shook her head sadly. "I wish it were." She sat down heavily on her desk (with a loud squelch) and ran a hand through her muddy hair. Erestor moved several papers away to prevent them from becoming sodden. Meanwhile, Glorfindel proceeded to tell them about the events in the village.

When she had finished, Elrond frowned. "Where is the injured elf?"

"In the Houses of Healing. Aragorn's man did a good job bandaging him up. All he needs now is some rest, and a change of bandages … and possibly the wound to be re-cleaned."

Elrond was about to ask what exactly had happened to her on the way back when Erestor spoke up first. "What did Aragorn say?"

Glorfindel expression darkened slightly as she spoke. "About three years ago, he and his men began running across abandoned houses. Only in poor secluded areas, hamlets mainly. There were no signs of them being forced to leave; in fact, most of the belongings had been taken. A group would arrive and then, a day later, they would leave again with the house's inhabitants and possessions. They found this strange, but not worrying as it isn't uncommon for families to leave isolated houses for large settlements. However, six months ago groups began to attack farm villages, all showing a similar pattern of signs to the village where I was attacked. This recent attack has been the closest to Imladris that they have come. These men aren't petty thugs or slavers."

"Is Aragorn sure that these are the same men?" Elrond put forward.

"Certain."

There was a short pause and then Erestor spoke, "As tragic as this is, there is no indication that this has anything to do with us. We cannot afford to become entangled in the squabbles of men."

Glorfindel took a deep breath and Elrond's feeling of unease increased. "These groups are all accompanied by elves."

Elrond's eyebrows shot up. It was uncommon enough to interact with humans beyond trade; actively recruiting and attacking men was almost unheard of nowadays. "Elves? No wonder Aragorn is positive it's the same people responsible."

She nodded. "At first, the groups were all made up of Elves, but the numbers have decreased to two or three in a party."

Elrond frowned as he thought, "The only reason I can discern for these events is to gain troop strength." Both his councillors nodded. "Does Aragorn know the purpose of this?"

Glorfindel shook her head. "Every time they track them, they come to a cold or false trail. They are very organised and obviously don't want to be found. We concluded it would be best to assume they are building a fighting force. We ruled out enslavement as most of their 'recruits' seem to join them in their raiding. As we are dealing with elves and they seem to be taking families and not just the men, we think they are willing to build up a force over time. We have no idea if they have any interest in Imladris at all."

Elrond nodded and turned to Erestor. "Your thoughts?"

"I think it is wise to assume the worst for the moment. However, without knowing their objective, there isn't much we can do expect watch them. I advise against acting too quickly on this, though. We may misunderstand their actions and put ourselves in a worse position then we actually are. More information is needed before we act."

Elrond turned back to his captain. "Glorfindel, is it possible to send a guard section to scout further afield? They should keep an eye on these attacks and gather more information."

"It will not be a problem, as long as they don't plan on fighting any more raiding parties."

Elrond gave a weary smile. "I would like to avoid that if at all possible."

"If the Dunedain are already investigating this, then perhaps it would be best to join our forces. I am certain we could cover more ground, gather more information. After all, the Dunedain know the land better then any of our guards."

Glorfindel shifted on her perch. "Aragorn said he would come and rest here with his men when Cirorod returns. We can discuss this further then. I doubt we will be invaded in the next two weeks." She slipped off of her desk. "Now, if you do not mind, I think I will go find my bed and put an end to this bad day."

The healer in Elrond frowned. "I hope you intend to have a hot bath first."

She gave a short laugh. "And risk more bad luck?"

Erestor started to guide her out of the room. "I think perhaps it would be best if I accompanied you then. I have had quite a lucky day, actually…"

Elrond watched the couple disappear through the door, their hushed voices echoing down the hallway. Glorfindel left faint muddy footprints on the floor. Elrond sighed; he never did ask her what had happened on the way back.

End of Chapter 7

Well, it may have taken me ages to update, but at least it was a long chapter … right? Remember, reviews make me update faster. The more I get the higher I put the story on my priority list.