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III III III

The stranger threw back his hood.

At the same moment Anne forgot all thoughts of impending dangers. This could be no earthly creature ...

How could those graceful features hold the glowing, fiery shine of youth, while at the same time radiate such wisdom, age and power? How was it possible that a faint, white light seemed to be shining through the stranger's very skin? And, how could his eyes appear like they might have been able to tell the secrets of millennia if one only dared to read them.

She had thought that there was something slightly transcendent about Delior, something that did not really belong into this world. Apparently though, 'transcendent' was quite common for elves – for there was absolutely no mistaking that she was now face to face with another member of that race. This one, however, had to be in an entirely different 'league' – so to speak.

It seemed to Anne that he was a lot older than Delior, though why she felt so, she could not have told. The skin of the fair face was smooth; there were no lines around his bright eyes, nor was there any sign of grey in his hair of shining gold.

And yet there was something in the look and even in the clear voice of this elf … If pressed to describe him (a task on which she probably would have failed), 'young' or even 'youthful' would not have been her first choice of vocabulary.

Anne suddenly became aware that her mouth was hanging open, and she quickly shut it, and – not knowing what else to do – she glanced up at Delior. He too, seemed momentarily rendered speechless by the other elf's appearance, however. At length, with the slightest bow of his head, he spoke, if only a single word in a cold and somewhat distant voice.

"Glorfindel."

The golden haired elf smiled ruefully, though he did not seem surprised at the less than warm welcome. He now started speaking urgently to Delior, his voice low and his eyes fixed on the other's face. He spoke once more in that strange, beautiful language, though Anne could not have told where one word ended and the next one began.

Delior listened, his face a mask of indifference. However, he slung his bow back over his shoulder, which finally assured Anne that there was no imminent danger to them. At last, Delior answered the strange elf in a clipped voice, and apparently in the same language.

Anne looked blankly from one to the other; it appeared that she was being completely ignored. On second thoughts, this was probably not such a bad thing, since her current raiment was consistent of nothing but a few towels. In fact, heading back ahead of Delior and his friend (or whoever he might be), suddenly seemed like an excellent idea to her.

She could see the cave from where they were standing. So, no sooner thought than done, she turned and hurried along the uneven, rocky path that lead up the hillside. No one made an attempt to stop her. After reaching the cave, she swiftly spread out her still slightly damp clothes on a flat boulder, of which the surface was warm from the sun. Only the long underpants she put back on promptly. Their current state of dryness would just have to do, for she was far from keen to display them publicly – however unfeminine they might be. While thus engaged, Anne could not help but wonder who the strange elf may be, and what he and Delior might be discussing. It had seemed as if they knew each other, but while the other elf had appeared pleased, or at any rate, relieved at their meeting, Delior himself had seemed reluctant and cautious.

On the other hand – as far as she could tell by now, he had probably just been his usual reticent (and not so endearing) self.

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Only about three quarters of an hour had passed, when quiet voices reached Anne's ear, slowly growing more distinguishable as they drew nearer.

Anne, who had retrieved her clothes and gotten dressed in the meantime, looked up and watched as both Delior and the other elf, who was leading two horses behind him, approached the crag. They had stopped talking now, and upon reaching the mouth to the cave, Delior called Anne's name.

Anne leapt up from her fur bed where she had been sitting (trying to brush her hair with her fingers), and went to meet the two elves at the entrance.

She half expected to be scolded for running off, but Delior merely frowned at her half dried clothing, before indicating the golden haired elf.

"This is Glorfindel, who dwells in Imladris - or Rivendell, as you call it in the common tongue. He bears news that may be of interest to you."

Something stirred in Anne's mind, but it was gone before she could grasp it. Also, she had no time to dwell on the matter, as the elf named Glorfindel now smiled at her in a very distracting manner.

"Well met, Anne. Forgive our previous misbehaviour," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Be assured that not disrespect was the reason, but mere haste and urgency."

"Oh, er, no… I mean… that is quite all right," Anne muttered, feeling somewhat intimidated at being addressed by him. In order to keep herself from staring at Glorfindel, she deliberately looked away from him, and over at the two horses instead. One was a tall, magnificent stormy grey, but then Anne's eyes fell on the second horse, and her jaw dropped. It was a piebald that looked oddly familiar – as did the saddlebags and the rolled-up and tightly secured blankets, which he was still carrying.

"But, that… that is my horse!" she exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her awe, and slowly walked towards the two. The spotted, little steed turned its head to look at her approaching, and made a low sniffing sound. "We brought him with us, when we left from Carrockton," Anne said as she reached out her hand to stroke the animal's dark, softly gleaming neck. "Where did you find him?"

"Nearly sixty miles south from here, at the height of Dimrill Dale," said Glorfindel. "He and two of his travelling companions - both riderless, were grazing peacefully in a small clearing just beyond the western borders of the forest. I took the lot with me, yet on the very next morrow, I was able to hand the other two back to their rightful owners."

"The Carrocktons?" Anne asked quickly, "You met them? Are they safe, then?"

But even as the questions were leaving her lips, she remembered Anselm and the other rider, whom she had watched being shot, and her heart sank. "How many of them were there?" she asked Glorfindel anxiously, "How many women…?"

But Glorfindel, who had waited patiently for her to pause, shook his head.

"I understand your worries, but I fear it is not in my power to ease them," he said kindly to her. "The Dúnadan who travelled with the villagers told me that the group had been widely scattered, and that the whereabouts of many were yet unknown. However, those I met had seven women with them." Glorfindel seemed to sense how important this particular information was to Anne, since he went on: "Three of them were… well advanced in years, but the other four appeared merely on the edge of adulthood…"

Anne felt relief sweep over her. Apart from her, Liecia, Goda and the two girls from their cart had been the only young women in the group. (Or at any rate the only ones who one would describe as 'on the edge of adulthood') This had to mean that they all had gotten away, and were all right, had it not? Delior interrupted her thoughts by uttering something that sounded remarkably like a snort, given that that was most certainly something, that elves were not known to do.

"That was very eloquently worded, Glorfindel, though I must say, I am struggling to grasp the point of all this," Delior said, before addressing Anne. "Did you not say that you had neither kin nor loved ones in Ecthel? Glorfindel may understand, but I do not. Why do you worry?"

"Legolas…" Glorfindel said warningly.

"'Why do I worry'?" Anne asked slowly, looking at Delior incredulously. "Just because I am not related to, or… or close friends with any of them… Maybe I am not, but they helped me! They trusted me, they were kind, and they let me stay with them when I had nowhere else to go. How could I not care?"

Delior looked like he was about to respond, but Glorfindel said hurriedly:

"But of course you are right to fear for them, Anne; it gives surest proof of a kind heart."

"Er, uh…yes. Thank you," Anne mumbled, somewhat embarrassed, not knowing how best to respond to that.

"At any rate, my heart is glad that I was able to aid in the reunion of at least two members of your company," Glorfindel said, with a glance at the piebald horse. "Your travelling companions and the Dúnadan would not take him back. It seemed to me, they hoped I might come across you on my journey northwards. But it appears that, by fortune, Legolas found you first."

Anne, realising that Glorfindel was talking about Delior, wondered wryly in how much detail the latter had explained about the circumstances under which he had found her. 'By fortune', indeed!

On the other hand – admittedly, he had saved her life, and seeing as she was not about to be shot of him for another week or so, it probably would not be wise to elaborate on the matter right now. What was more - along with the piebald horse, she had also gotten her luggage (containing her own undergarments) back, which improved her mood considerably.

"The question is: What shall happen with her now?" Glorfindel continued, speaking to Delior once more. He was still using the common speech however, and Anne suspected that this was mainly for her benefit. "Will you take her to Rohan, following the villagers?"

"That may be better, but there is no time to take such a detour – even less so if I were to take your advice," Delior answered.

"You should," Glorfindel said gravely. "Though, I still hope that someone or something will discourage you from following through with your plan. But if, alas! It cannot be prevented, heed my words and first go to Bree, for it will be well nigh impossible as it is. You do neither speak their tongue, nor do you know about the peculiarities of those people and their lands, and in Bree you may find help for at least that obstacle.

But on this matter, I cannot advise you, and we have wandered from one topic to another – If you will not go to Rohan, where will you bring her?"

"Back to Ecthel, I think. That was the plan, at any rate."

Glorfindel suddenly looked dismayed. "But that is not possible! I believed you must have heard about it, otherwise I would not have kept quiet till now; the town of Ecthel has been abandoned!" he turned to Anne. "There was a raid. Only a couple of days after you left as it seems."

"But there were still people there!" Anne exclaimed, horror-struck. She suddenly remembered vividly the look of worry and tension on Nesta's fair face, and her weak smile as she had bidden Anne Goodbye. "The Inn… were you there? Have you seen what -?"

Glorfindel held up a hand to gently interrupt her rambling, and there was clear distress in his face now, at being the bearer of such ill news.

"I am sorry, but there is naught more I can tell you. I have not been to the village myself, for I was on my way back from the South, from Minas Tirith when I met the fleeing villagefolk."

"But then you don't know," Anne all but shouted, while barely restraining herself from seizing the elf by his collar and shaking him. "You have only heard - you don't know for sure!"

"Alas, I do know for sure," Glorfindel said, in a calm voice, seemingly undeterred by Anne's lack of composure. "A number of orcs and other, even fouler things attacked the townships five nights ago. There was a fight, it appears, but the townsfolk were outnumbered by far, and in the end, had no choice but to flee. Not by any means you can return there; I dare say the village is being plundered as we speak, if it has not already come to pass."

"Those are bad tidings indeed," Delior, who had silently watched their exchange, now said slowly. "Orcs between the Carrock and Eryn Galen! Never would they have dared such in the days of Beorn."

"True," said Glorfindel, "and the fact that word of such evil seems to not have reached the forest yet, troubles me even more. I cannot linger any longer, I fear."

Anne vaguely noted that Delior did not ask Glorfindel how he knew about the attack, when he had been miles and miles away from the happening after all, but she found she did not really care. She thought of grumpy, brave and noble Dorlas Dockleaf, of merry Odo and of quiet, earnest Nesta. Where were they now – that was, if they were still alive… and Nesta's betrothed, Forvin, who had set out for the Palace of King Thranduil… was he safe?

With difficulty, she forced her mind away from dark thoughts and back to the present. The two elves had started talking in their own tongue again; at this moment Delior shook his head at something Glorfindel had said, before replying softly and indicating the horses.

'Not that I would understand a word, even if you were yelling,' Anne thought sullenly as she watched them.

Glorfindel now laid a hand on Delior's arm and spoke in a very urgent and insistent tone; Anne thought she heard the word Imladris again, amongst the (to her) incomprehensible muttering.

Delior averted his eyes while the other elf spoke. At length he looked up and gave the tiniest nod. This appeared to satisfy Glorfindel, though he still looked doubtful and worried when he was bidding them farewell shortly afterwards.

"May stars shine upon your road, which may lead you to happier and safer days soon," he said to Anne, who merely nodded awkwardly, wondering if there was an appropriate response.

Glorfindel mounted his grey horse and turned it around, but looked back at Delior once more. "Navaer," he called.

"Navaer," Delior said in return; both he and Anne watched Glorfindel ride off down the slope in a slow trot, his golden hair and the silvery grey of his horse's coat shining in the twilight beneath the canopy of green, until they finally disappeared between the denser growing trunks and vanished from sight.

The piebald horse began to prance sideways, and tossed his head when Anne tried to grip the reins more firmly. He obviously did not like being left behind and seemed on the verge of breaking loose to follow Glorfindel's steed.

Delior stepped up to the horse and laid his right hand flat against the dark neck, while speaking words of that elvish language to the animal. His tone was soft, calming and gentle, and quite different from anything Anne had heard from him so far. Even she could feel the soothing effect of the elf's voice as she watched the piebald quieten down and allow Delior to lay his other hand on his head, until he finally snorted and stood still.

Delior's hands fell mechanically to his sides as he turned to look at Anne.

"You should pack up your things and also sort out the contents of these bags," he told her, indicating the saddlebags. "Then get as much rest as you can. We shall leave on the morrow at first light, and the journey lying ahead of us will be long and difficult."

With that, he turned and went to fetch his knife and the doe's leg from the ground, then walked towards the fire pit where he crouched down and started rekindling the glowing embers. Anne was left standing at the entrance and with the distinctive feeling that a very important piece of information had escaped her notice.

"What…?" she finally managed to blurt out. "Wait!" she called, letting go of the horse's reins (that fortunately merely started grazing) and followed the elf inside the cave. "What do you mean, 'We leave on the morrow', leave for where? I thought it was out of the question to return to Carrockton."

Anne was very aware of being a considerable trouble to him, and whilst knowing that it was not her fault, the thought made her feel defensive and annoyed. After all, it was not like she wanted to keep clinging to his coat-tails. But since they concerned her as well, was it too much to ask to be kept informed of his travelling plans?

Delior looked up in time to see the gloom on her face. He sat back, laying down the oak branch he had been using as a poker.

"There is no need to look at me so sullenly," he said, his grey eyes seeking hers. "As matters stand, you have but two choices: Remain behind in this cave on your own - or follow me to the township of Bree, west of the Misty Mountains. Would you rather stay here?"

Anne bit her lip and looked away from his sharp eyes. "Why Bree?" she dared to ask at length. "It must be very far, if it lies on the other side of the mountains. Also you told me that you had been travelling to the east when you… when we met."

Delior turned his attention back to the fire.

"That is my purpose, yes," he said calmly. "First, however, my path goes west. I have to meet with someone in Bree, and it should be possible for you to stay there, I expect."

'Being shoved around from one place to the next is threatening to become my everyday life,' Anne thought darkly. Not really having an idea of a particular place where she wished to go right now, it probably did not make much of a difference, though. Still, the thought was not a pleasant one. Suddenly, she remembered something else that had given her food for thought.

"Why did Glorfindel call you Legolas?"

"Probably, because it is my name."

"But why did you lie to me?" Anne asked in surprise.

"I did not lie to you," he said absentmindedly.

"Yes! You told me that your name was Delior."

"I told you that some people call me that."

Anne fought the urge to groan. "Well, what should I call you then?"

"To tell you the truth, I care not," Delior sighed. "It matters little, so call me whatever you please." He waved the branch at her.

"Now go. Pack up, rest, sleep or tend to your horse, but whichever you choose to do, do it quietly. Glorfindel's ramblings tired me and yours are not better. Also, get out of those sodden clothes, for otherwise you will be unfit to go anywhere tomorrow."

He fell silent after that, and Anne had no choice but to make do with these 'disclosures'.

Therefore, with a huffed "They are hardly 'sodden'," she turned and headed back towards the cave entrance, with the aim to heed one of the elf's suggestions, and tend to the piebald.

While under way, it might be pleasant to have at least one friendly face around.

This was going to be a very long journey indeed.

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AN: Thanks to my ever patient Beta, as well as to everyone who reads this and especially those who reviewed, for their kind words! :-)

On another matter: Dúnadan is, as far as I know, the singular of the word, whilst the word Dúnedain refers to the race in general, or at least a group of them. In TfotR, the elves and Bilbo, when speaking about or with Aragorn, use the word Dúnadan.