Warning for macabre images and naïve elves.

AN Thank you for the reviews! I'm debating how to continue. I have some ideas, but I know some will probably be disapponted with me for twisting this story in the direction its heading. But, hey. What can you do? If you have thoughts, write them! Here's another one! Enjoy! -DR


Finding Courage

~: Chapter 7 :~


It had been many years since he last felt his heart pound in his chest the way it did now. Erestor had once thought that he was done with swords and crude bloodshed. But how could he deny that his heart raced a bit at the thought of falling into battle once again?

His last fight had been more of an unconscious reaction to the situation at hand. An instinctual need to protect that which was precious. His military background easily fell back into its old patterns of cleanly, ruthlessly ending one life after another. But now, as he stood on the edge of a another hypothetical battlefield, could he do the same once more?

Erestor held his breath. A compromise between keeping his location hidden as well as shutting out the foul stench those vile creatures emitted. Here, hidden among the branches in one of the tall spruces he could easily spy down on the disorganized camp the orcs had set during the day. It was strange, to find orcs roaming freely out under the light of the fading sun, but it did not take his eyes long to find the cause: Foul, rotting remnants of carcasses that littered the center of the camp.

Trust orcs to value feasting over their own safety...

He tried to avoid imagining what kind of beings the odds and ends left on the ground originally belonged to. But the lone foot that still lay somewhat intact in the grass left little to imagination. It was not the first time Erestor was faced with the cruelties of their twisted kin and it would certainly not be the last. Isolating himself from them for over two millenia did not soften the sensations the sight of such manslaughter raised within him. Erestor hoped fervently that the man had at least died out of chock or bloodloss before being ripped into pieces. Death by eating was a horrible way to go.

The orcs milled about without any specific purpose along the flattened space. Some used burning sticks to char more of the surrounding grass, somehow finding some perverse pleasure in the widespread destruction they caused. Erestor knew that the flock would not stay idle for long. That such a large group were out in the open at all made his skin crawl and bile creep up his throat. The only source Erestor could think of the orcs spawning from were the mountains. Orcs had more than infested the ridge ever since establishing their homes in the numerous caves hidden in the landscape.

But what had caused them to wander down from it? And in such large numbers, no less?

A fight broke out between some of the smaller orcs and Erestor watched with morbid fascination as they started to pull on the underdog's arms until a nasty crack echoed in the air.

Erestor shook his head.

They were too many. Too big in numbers for him to even entertain the idea of engaging them in a fight. Perhaps with a patrol, the orcs might be waylaid quickly enough for archers to slowly pick them off in numbers. But as a single elf it would be nearly impossible to fight them and expect to come out alive afterwards.

I've never missed Glorfindel's strategic mind more than in this very moment...

Reluctantly, Erestor allowed a smirk to form as he thought of how the blonde would have picked the situation apart bit by bit until he had formed the most efficient plan to exterminate the abominations. An age ago, Erestor might have appreciated such efforts. But at the moment, just thinking of feeling thick black blood spray over him made his stomach twist.

He searched the sky, knowing that the sun would set in another few moments. If he were lucky, Arwen would be long gone, already riding steadily south. But she was headstrong to a fault and Erestor had recognized the possibility that the elleth might just withstand his orders long enough that he might find her still waiting upon his return. Originally, he had planned on giving her some kind of signal of his demise, if he did fall, so as to warn her ahead of time. Something to spur her into action. But seeing as fighting was not his current priority, backtracking to her location would have to be made with increased speed and stealth just incase she had infact remained behind to wait for him despite his pleas.

He slowly climbed down the tree, freezing when a particularly dry branch snapped beneath his leather boot.

An orc closest to the trees snapped his head in his direction and it took all of Erestor's restraint to become completely silent once more. Those beady yellow eyes stared his way, scanning the foilage. Erestor flexed his hands, trying to steady his grip in the odd position he was stuck in.

A flush of wind ripped through the trees, causing leaves to rustle in its wake. Soon enough, the orc seemed to lose focus once more before he turned his head away from the trees.

Erestor panted harshly, one hand over his mouth as he pressed his back against the body of the trunk. His feet safely lodged on the ground. If there was time and more room for error, he might have made his way through the branches instead of on ground. It would certainly leave less tracks, for although elves might be light on their feet, he had yet to meet an elf who could conceal his scent enough not to leave any traces behind. Now, Erestor would have to trust in his ability to move unhindered, minimizing his contact with the fauna as much as possible. For the idea of having a whole group of orcs tracking him by scent did not sound very enticing at the moment.

As he slipped between trees like a silver shadow, he contemplated his sudden need for haste. The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, becoming the perfect playground for the beasts. He fervently hoped Arwen was still safe, for if his actions had led to her demise, Erestor would never be able to forgive himself.


.oOo.

Arwen gripped her blade closer as the shouts from the north escalated. Their gutteral cries were beginning to make her nauseous, for every time she heard one she imagined it as victorious glee for when one of those horrible creatures sliced another slash into her friend.

How could he leave her? Her mind kept repeating that same echoing thought in her solitude. Absently Arwen counted the minutes until the sun faded fully from its perch in the sky. Her heart was beginning to feel the stress laid upon it. And for every beat, she realized she felt more and more angry with her own lack of common sense. To have let Erestor go and risk his life so recklessly... But Arwen had promised. Just like Erestor had promised he would come back to her.

She glanced at Beren as the horse gnawed at the bark of her tree. Looking every bit as jumpy as she did whenever those cries rose in the air. Gildin, valiant steed comparable to his sire, stood proudly in the fading light. The last glimmering rays of sun bouncing of his light coat. Arwen had never realized that bravery could be bred into descendants. Though, she guessed Erestor must have counted on some of her father's passing down to her.

The Valar knew she felt nothing but afraid in this very moment.

When darkness finally coated even the highest tips of the trees Arwen sat conflicted, not knowing what to do.

On one hand she had promised to honor her word. To take the horses and flee once night fell. On the other, her rushing emotions screamed at her for taking the coward's way out. To fight and offer what she could to ensure Erestor's survival. She shook her head... Did she have so poor faith in him? Yet some part of her whispered that he could very well be injured and taking longer on his way back. What if Erestor returned to find her gone, without any means but his feet to bring him to safety?

Could she live with that on her conscience?

Arwen wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword. Feeling the leather form under her grip, the same cold steel gleaming back at her.

It seemed so familiar, the sensation the silver shine brought her. It was the same as the one she had when she rose to fight the wargs so long ago. The feeling of strength. Of hope no matter how faint.

A rustle in the wood caught her ears and her body stiffened before she silently motioned Beren into place beneath her. Gildin took up point, a threatening posture made to ward off any ill that might think to come for her. After sliding onto the stallion's back, Arwen straightened in her seat, sword raised and ready to meet whatever end might face her.

For Erestor.

A snap, twigs giving way beneath strain.

In her mind, the mantra of an old elven warsong her brother's used to sing rang clearly. Each word made her grip become steadier and her shaking lessen. There was no room for hesitation.

When Erestor surfaced between the pale trunks her heart wavered, suddenly caught between joy and and the rush of adrenalin already pumping in her veins.

"Erestor." She felt her lips curl upwards, relief flooding her. "You are back!"

Gildin backed off without needing to be told to, sensing the familiar scent. Erestor, without greeting her her in return slowly made his way over, eyes dark as his hand grasped hers around the hilt.

"Foolish elleth..." He seemed unable to put up a fight, yet fiercely determined to make his point clear. "What if I was the first of those forty orcs lingering upstream? What if I was the enemy seeking to lower your guard?" Erestor shook his head, hand lowering hers beside him as he pressed his face into her middle. Apparently uncaring of the shocked mien on her face.

Arwen felt the slight tremble in his limbs and as if on reflex her sword dropped with a audible clang from her fingers to the ground. Arms slowly encircled those stiff shoulders. Not knowing what to say. What to do to make him less disappointed with her.

"Do you have any idea how much I worried for you?"

Arwen could barely hear his muffled mumbles. But each word made the ache worse. The stars were already up and shone down on the silver trinket used to fasten his braid. Arwens hands clung to the sweaty fabric on his back hoping to somehow apologize for her ways. For letting him down.

"I was going to..." She whispered, knowing they were worthless words by now. "I was-"

"Never endanger yourself for me again. Please..." Arwen tried not to stiffen at the flowing words, words so secret to her ears. Oh, how she wished she understood them. "Please, Arwen. Never scare me like this again."

There was no dampening of her tunic. Nothing to prove the presence of any shed tears. But the mere fact that Erestor refused to show her his face was testimony enough of his emotional state. If his pleading tone did not fill her in, Arwen already knew from the way his hand clenched around the leather strap keeping their saddlebags in place that Erestor was not his usual self.

Arwen never wished to see him this way again...


.oOo.

With their way north blocked the only possible path was to continue south. They rode through the night, Arwen periodically slumbering in his arms as he rode. Her warmth, the way her chest expanded rythmically with every breath put his mind at ease. Still badly spooked by his sudden rush of emotion.

As she slept, Erestor tightened his arms slightly.

Turning south at the fork of the rivers, Erestor could only hope that they had put enough distance between themselves and the orcs. The looming threat lay heavily on his mind, and not for the first time he scolded himself for not riding sooner. But no, the promise of a straight, almost problem free route had made him greedy.

Had he lost his edge during the years he spent confined among his numerous books and scrolls?

Erestor would not deny that he felt out of his element. The land around him was beginning to feel all the more foreign as the classical lanscape surrounding the hidden valley gave way to open fields and long stretches of unhindered land. Not a settlement in sight, Erestor knew they had missed the old Dunedain country by a hair.

It did not help that his memory of this place was more based on maps and old, outdated views of a land long gone. The old kingdom of Arnor looked foreign across the riverbank. Only remnants of the once prosperous land made itself known in the vast landscape: Soft contours of withered rock formations and raised chairns, long lost to the growth of nature.

Had it really been that long since he last visited the further reaches of Eriador? Erestor snorted. It had been long indeed since he had left the valley for more than an occational diplomatic trip east.

The land was rough, more wild now. The Dunedain too few these days to keep it all up to shape. Instead, other races had staked their claim on the land. Halflings to the north, Men where the fields and woods were fruitous enough and Dwarves where stone offered riches still unclaimed. All converged on the Green Way; travellers, merchants and thieves. Erestor would have to be careful as they neared civilisation again. Many had forgotten the old alliances of old, more prone to believe in rumours and the false sayings pertaining to witchcraft and magical beings.

Tharbad would be their first stop.

The old city had dwindeled down over the centuries into a small town. Perhaps there, Erestor could get an idea of how to proceed. His faith in himself wavered further as he thought of the responsibility of escorting one of the most stunning maidens of their time through the roughened streets of a human town. He clenched his teeth.

It is good we still have our cloaks. I don't think we would have lasted past the gate without them.

Of course, things never went to plan whenever Erestor was part of it. He bemoaned the fact as they stopped the next afternoon for another break. The ride had been uneventful for the most part. But things had changed after sunrise, when Erestor was finally convinced enough that they were safe from any possible persecutors.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Erestor watched Arwen, concerned, as she came out of the thick undergrowth surrounding the river. The elleth seemed to become more and more ill by the hour. It frightened him, for Erestor knew little of the arts of healing and the different causes of disease.

"Yes, I am fine." She drank a bit out of her waterskin. Wiping the excess off her lips.

"But you look so pale..." Erestor had forced her to wear her hood since this morning, thinking the sun might be causing her sudden symptoms. She was half-elven after all and her father had suffered similar bouts of illness in his days. The more delicate dispositions of the peredhil blood left him ill at ease even at times when there was no reason for concern. To find her increasingly under the weather had him drawing straws while he tried to methodically figure things out.

"It is nothing," Arwen reassured.

But as they continued on the third day, he could no longer stand to be silent. So when Erestor followed her on her break one morning only to find her doubled over a tree root he could hardly ignore it any longer.

Arwen stiffened as cool hands pulled her hair out of the way, lifting it off her warm, clammy neck. She wiped at her mouth, trying to hide the signs of her most recent bout of sickness. Equally cool skin pressed against her forehead.

"You do not seem to have a fever."

Arwen closed her eyes, which left her unprepared when the male suddenly dragged her backwards, unbalancing her until she leaned back into his sturdy chest. "Arwen..."

"Please. I do not wish to speak of it. If I do, I will only start to vomit again."

Erestor remained silent as he tipped her slighty, making her lean her head back against his right shoulder. If she had indeed been ill to the stomach this long, there was no wonder she was feeling weak. She barely kept any of the food down and the small amounts she'd been ingesting lately were scarcely enough to compensate the loss of regular, full meals.

A sharp clink of metal made her open her eyes. The familiar, silver encased flask hovered before her lips. "Drink."

Her stomach fluttered then churned. The thought of swallowing her own spit, not to mention miruvor, was all it took at the moment to make her queezy.

"I'd rather not."

Erestor's slate eyes pressed further. His hand resting the opening of the flask against her bottom lip. "Drink. Or I will make you, one way or another." Her trembling hand folded over his and caused his face to soften. "Just a sip, my Lady. That is all I ask of you."

She obeyed, then shut her face from the sun with her hands as she fought to keep the liquid down. The warmth it spread in her stomach soon soothed its cramping somewhat, but did little to ease her embarrassment. She could hear Erestor screw the stopper back in, before he let the flask back on its chain.

It was no more then a breath or two later when she felt herself lifted, her hands automatically wrapping around Erestor's neck as he carried her into the shade. Seating himself against the lone trunk, he adjusted Arwen's body so it lay cradled against his.

"Rest. We have made good time today." His smooth voice felt like silk on her ears, his hand rubbing soothing patterns down her back. "I think I can spare time for you to rest up."

Arwen buried her face in the soft fabric of his tunic, suddenly realizing how tired she felt...

"Once we reach Tharbad, I will find you a healer. Someone more familiar with human diseases." Erestor thought out loud, suddenly feeling inadequate for not being able to help such a simple thing. Perhaps he should ask Elrond to teach him, so he could avoid being put him in this same position again? Then again, the lord would probably laugh at him for asking, wondering what had roused his sudden interest healing.

Yet, Erestor was quite sure he had signed off another one of those lengthy medicinal volumes last spring before adding it to the library. He could probably find even more information if he was driven enough to do so. It would be an easy task for him to research the most common illnesses of the second born... Deciding it was a matter to decide for a later day, he continued to muse aloud: "Perhaps, word has already travelled south and your father has sent out search parties. We might be home sooner than we-"

He stopped as she recognized the soft breathing that fanned his chest. Arwen's face relaxed in sleep.

Sighing, Erestor pulled on his cloak. Wrapping the fabric protectively around the elleth. His head falling to rest on hers, eyes tracing the glittering river as it rushed past.

"There is nothing to worry about, Princess. I will see to it."


.oOo.

Elrond stood tireless in the dark, watching the stars move over the dark sky. The routine was a beginning one that had started the day he sent his daughter to the Havens in hope of keeping her safe. Now, he stood there in askance, wondering how he should act each time he stared at the star she had been named after.

Arwen.

Weeks had passed since they received news of her disappearance. No word nor sign of her in the areas to which he had sent his search patrols.

Yes, many had offered themselves to search for the Eveningstar. Many of whom he had to deny just because they were more needed protecting their lands, their people against the threat looming in the east.

The opened letter lay on his desk. It had arrived far later than the conversation he had held with Galadriel just months before. The summation had been simple but formal enough to require direct action on his part.

'Please, send aid.'

Elrond did not need ask to whom aid was needed. He knew Galadriel's mind almost like his own when it concerned matters such as these. Still, he would not let his son fight alone. His sons had barely returned home long enough to rest for a while before he had to send them out again. This time on a far more perrilous journey. With their horses and many of their distant noble kin, the Grey Company rode out to their fate. The elves Elrond had decided to send as reinforcements followed not many days later.

Now, with an empty house and no sons to keep him company, Elrond had to repay the favor or sending ill news.

Messengers had already ridden out earlier that week, carrying the horrible news of his daughter's missing status. Hopefully, disclosing their situation would help them in finding her. If not, Elrond did not know how he would cope. He could not deny that as more days passed, his faith in Erestor's abilities slowly diminshed. Or worse, perhaps his friend had not caught up to her at all and Arwen was starving somewhere in the wilderness... No matter how unlikely the scenario many others very similar to it plagued his mind, ruined his sleep and tore at this strength.

Elrond twisted the ring on his finger. Both Vilya and his foresight strangely uncooperative.

Would he loose all of his children to a war he did not even step foot in? Would fate be so cruel to him? Something dark twisted in his chest. Whispers of things untold brushing his mind. He gnawed at his lip, turning the flesh raw.

Yes, Elrond thought. This was the perfect opportunity indeed for the enemy to play his cards right.

For as darkness fell in around him Elrond feared that he had played straight into Sauron's greedy hands. And he had not even known until it was all too late.


.oOo.

Arwen felt the grip around her middle tighten as they rode through a small opening into the town. They had already passed small, quaint settlements along the river. But all had seemed abandoned. Now, seeing the emaciated state of the people within the town, she could understand why they hid instead of wandered about.

Dust covered windows glinted in the noon sun, some hid curious onlookers or the odd cat or two. No matter if the town was used to travellers, apparently few ever set foot in the actual town these days. An old, one eyed stablekeeper dared to walk out from beneath the wooden construction he called his own. His eye visibly startled seeing the fine if dusty horses that came his way.

Erestor bowed his head down to her ear, whispering, "Keep your hood up. There is more than a few unsavory types here. No need in gathering unnecessary attention to ourselves."

Arwen found his words strangely contradictive, considering Erestor had his head free of the dark material. Instead, his hair was tied into a messy ponytail, which fell down one shoulder. The configuration carefully hid the pointed tips of his ears out of view.

He pulled up beside the stablekeeper, his back straight as he said, "Name your price."

It sounded hilarious how Erestor intentionally roughened his speech pattern, hiding the normally noble tongue. The man might have found it odd, but still staked his price of three coppers a night. There was a moment of stunned surprise as a heavy bit of silver fell in the stablekeeps hand. Normally, the man might have questioned their appearance, but Erestor knew the extra silver would keep his mouth shut long enough.

"There's another for you when we return. I hope that's suitable?"

The man nodded. Wisely turning his head away when the tall male went to lift the shorter figure off the horse. It took another ten minutes or so before Erestor had managed to wrangle the name of a decent inn off the man's tongue. Arwen took it all in with open curiosity, as she had rarely been around other mortals except Aragorn and his kin. Her fascination was dampened somewhat when they got their room, a small thing with only one window facing the street. Arwen told herself she should not complain, for her body would gladly welcome the straw mattress and a proper ceiling over their heads. Not to mention a hot bath...

Erestor hung his cloak on one of the iron pegs. His tall form seeming more imposing with the low ceiling.

"So, how long are we staying?" Arwen asked, curious but also somewhat mortified by their current arrangement.

Erestor didn't seem to want to dignify her question with an answer as he sank to a seat on the low bed. The thing creaked with his weight, and Arwen found herself growing more uncomfortable.

Here she was, alone with a male in a town the Valar knows where, waiting for some kind of clarification as to what their current plan of action was. It was not made any better by the fact that Erestor was sitting on the only bed in the room. A bed they would have to share for lack of better options.

She chose to ignore the sudden flutter in her stomach. Instead she opted to act very unlike a lady and curse her friend's paranoia in her mind.

Erestor rubbed his face, suddenly appearing a lot older than he was just five minutes earlier.

Arwen turned, determined to distract herself as she ran a finger along the dusty mantle piece. Such a thing would have been unacceptable at home. Yet, Arwen had seen that many things in this establishment were somewhat lacking. Then again, the current dust layer covering most articles in their room should be the last of her worries.

A loud thumping resounded on their door and Erestor gracefully rose to check it. A flushed faced woman that must have been closer to thirty who had certainly seen better days – if the faint burnmarks on her neck and partly exposed bosom was anything to go by – stuttered nervously. "Your bath, Sir."

Erestor folded away from the enterance and the woman and six of her associates rushed in, carrying a large copper bath and buckets of steaming hot water, which they used to fill it. The woman, who was clearly the others' superior set a smaller basket with clean towels and soap beside it before they all simultanously bowed and left through the door, red faced as they went.

Arwen lowered her hood and raised a brow in Erestor's direction. Perplexed by their strange behavior. Erestor merely shook his head, as if too tired to deal with their strangeness. He gestured towards the bath with one hand before telling her to let him in once she had finished.

The door closed behind him. Sharp like a wake-up call despite its almost soundless nature. Arwen's face grew more and more heated as a stark realization hit her. Of course, Erestor would have to leave. She could hardly take a bath in his presence... It did not make it any easier for her though, as she imagined him standing guard on the other side of the door. Just a thin piece of wood between them...

Dropping her cloak and clothes with haste, she must have taken the quickest bath in all history of Arda. All the while trying not to imagine Erestor soon doing the same...


.oOo.

Arwen never should have worried about the sleeping arrangements. Of course, Erestor was too much of an gentleman to do anything and allowed her to have the bed for herself. The elf had stubbornly and without fuss seated himself in the old chair by the fireplace to sleep. It wasn't until their third night in the inn that Arwen insisted the elf take a proper rest. It had become almost physically painful to watch the tall elf cramp himself down into the chair each night, long legs unable to find a comfortable postion and his neck without a doubt developing a crick due to the odd positioning.

Despite Erestor's protests that he had been through worse, Arwen argued that there was no point in staying at the inn at all if they were not both going to rest properly. She had not missed how Erestor would stay awake for long hours of the night, keeping watch. The habit had already put faint traces of shadows beneath those slate eyes. Something that Arwen felt increasingly guilty of.

Still, the warmth that now radiated against her back made it hard to relax.

Erestor rested with his back turned respectfully her way, which in the cramped bed meant pressing up against each other, back to back. It did allow her some decency, not that there was truly any need for any seeing how they were both fully clothed. Yet, the stiffness to his muscles told her he too felt uncomfortable by their close proximity, which was odd, considering how they had been in much more intimate positions before this.

"Go to sleep, my Lady."

The low, sleepy rumble reverberated through his back and into hers, sending shivers down her arms. Arwen pulled the thin moth eaten quilt the bed came with higher, using the improvised barrier to hide the heat she could feel on her face.

She tried to think of something more comforting to put her at ease. But as she imagined Aragorn there with her instead, who she had always felt calm and at ease around, it only succeeded in making her feel even more bothered. A deep resurfacing memory made her clench her hands together, her lips somewhat apart as she gave a soft gasp from the rush it caused. It was one she had buried deep inside her heart, too precious to forget yet too guilt inducing to leave free. She squeezed her eyes shut. Suddenly ashamed of her wandering thoughts, Arwen tried to still the sudden heat pooling down her spine, ending up in a familiar place she knew no respectable lady was supposed to think about.

Erestor had gone dead still behind her. As if somehow picking up on her thoughts. His breathing controlled and precise.

As she listened to him she found herself slowly doing something similar, taking deep and steady breaths to center herself. To calm the sudden ripples made in that long dormant lake.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in her throat, she whispered:

"Good night, Erestor."

Though, Arwen doubted either of them would have a very a good night of sleep that night. The hammering of her heart against the wall of her chest seemed to know it better than she did and Arwen forcefully closed her eyes. Imagining herself someplace else, somewhere not here.


#To be continued...