Rivendell and Unrest in the Mountains

Disclaimer: I (rather obviously) do not own Lord of the Rings, that belongs to JRR Tolkien and the Tolkien Foundation.

The next two weeks or so went by in a blur for the three travelers. The weather cleared up two days or so after they left the "Hawk and Hare's Foot", and that made the travel by day all the more pleasant. They would ride one day and walk the next to let the mounts rest a little. As far as Farbarad was concerned, the days he could ride were far better ones than the days he had to walk. Footsoreness was not his favorite state of being, but he had to admit that the walking did him good. His feet and legs were slowly getting used to the long walks and getting stronger. He would be as sturdy as a horse in a fortnight or so, but he saw no reason to suffer in silence in the interim.

The evenings centered around a campfire by the side of the road and were composed mostly of reading by firelight and blowing smoke rings late into the night. Then two of the party would retire to the tents, leaving the third out as the first watch of the night.

Or rather, that was how the first few nights went. By the third evening, Farbarad had finished repairing his severely broken down lute. That done, he filled the night air with tunes from Bree-Land and Dunedain songs he'd learned when he'd fought in Haduil's detachment. He did his best to eliminate some of the bawdier ones from his repertoire; after all, there were ladies present, and the Dunedan could be gentlemanly enough if necessary.

Dinennaur proved a dab hand on the mandolin she carried with her, and Eofor could squeeze some music out of the old bronze horn he carried in his days with the eored. They soon set a nighttime routine of singing and even dancing when they had the energy. The sounds of song and laughter often drew the attention of other travelers on the road, and the little groups would exchange the latest news and gossip.

Sometimes no one was in the mood for song or dance, and they swapped all sorts of strange stories those evenings. Eofor would tell old Rohirric bedtime stories to his companions and Farbarad would wiggle his fingers mysteriously as he told the stories of ghosts and phantoms that he used to tell his brothers at night around the campfire. Dinennaur's stories about battles and glories of long ago were a particular favorite of the Eorling's, and Farbarad learned at least a dozen new ghost stories from the elleth.

It was on one of these nights that all Farbarad's plans for the journey to Rhovanion ended up in the ashpit. They had crossed the Bruinen and gone on a ways past it, so they were very close to Rivendell and the end of their sojourn with Dinennaur.

For both Eofor and Farbarad, this was a somewhat bittersweet moment. On the one hand, they would be free to pursue their own affairs once they parted company with Dinennaur. On the other, she had not by any means been a terrible companion.

As far as Farbarad was concerned, no one who could play the mandolin that well could be anywhere close to being a poor companion. The frictions of two weeks ago had mostly died off and while there were still arguments, they'd been nowhere near as severe as the ones they'd had at the start of the journey. Dinennaur could be somewhat….particular at times, but she could brew a good pot of tea, and that could make up for many faults.

As for Eofor, well he seemed to have adopted her as an elder sister along the trip, and he would sit in rapt attention whenever she told him one of the stories of things from well before he was ever born. As far as he was concerned, a lot of the elleth's more annoying habits were par for course for elder siblings, and if it really annoyed him he could always take a walk away from the camp for a bit. The thought of her leaving was not a happy one, but he bore it quietly.

Dinennaur was not at all happy to leave the party either. Truth be told, she hadn't had such a good time on an adventure in quite a while. The chance to be out on the open road was a welcome change from the camps around Imladris and the regularity of work in the refuge. Yet there was not much she could do about leaving Eofor and Farbarad's company. She was a sworn soldier of her lord, and she couldn't go gallivanting all over Middle Earth without getting his approval.

These thoughts in mind, they decided to get as much story and song time in together as possible for this last night. To that end, they made camp a little early. They sat close together around the fire, drinking tea and eating waybread and boiled dry sausage, and things looked like they were shaping up to be a very normal night.

Dinennaur had just reached into one of her packs when both she and Farbarad paused. The sound was imperceptible to any but another Elf or Ranger, which explained the odd look Eofor gave them both, but it was definitely a footfall. Multiple footfalls.

"Well now." Farbarad straightened and grinned. "No Orc would dare come this close to Rivendell, and I can't think that this Morangmacar would be fool enough to follow us. I'm sure it's just some of your people, elleth." He raised his voice. "Mae govannen, warriors of Imladris! What brings you to our campfire?"

Five Elves stepped out of the gloom. One of them bore an ornate clasp on his cloak, confirming his high status in Elrond's guard. He would have said something, but a cry of "Naneth!" from three of the Elves interrupted him. The three rushed over to Dinennaur, followed closely by somewhat stockier Noldo with a greatsword slung over his back. Three of the Elves were talking a league a minute, and Dinennaur was swamped trying to answer all their questions and ask some of her own.

"Naneth?" Farbarad arched his eyebrows. "I have a hard time believing that she is mother to all you three…four, I should say."

The greatsword-bearer glanced over at the Dunedan, and crossed to him, clasping his hand firmly. "Mae govannen, Dunedan! In the excitement, I don't think anyone's welcomed you to our lands in all this excitement. Mae govannen, Rohir; I cannot say that I have ever seen one of your people so far north."

"Thank you. Now, about my question…"

"Aye. Well, she tries to mother all of us; that includes even me, and I'm her commander! Lagormacar, at your service, by the by. At any rate, she's a sort of healer, sort of spearwoman in my unit, and she fusses over us both on and off the battlefield."

"You too, then?" Eofor grinned. "Now I understand some of her fussing about us over the last two weeks. I never knew that there were such specific ways for preparing food or fluffing pillows."

"Muinthel!" Lagormacar and the bearer of the ornate brooch winced as the yell echoed through the valley. It appeared that Coerheledir had finally got the rocks out of his boots.

Dinennaur's eyes brightened on hearing her brother's voice. True, she wasn't keen on leaving her newfound friends' company, but she had missed her unit and still more her family. The sight of him rushing towards her was pleasant beyond words, but she tried to contain her excitement. It wouldn't do her image any favors if she hopped about in glee and acted silly as a goose.

"Muindor!"So much for restraint. She darted past her comrades towards her brother, arms outstretched. The young Elf lifted his sister and spun about with her, laughing. Some of her self-awareness returned with that, and she kicked her legs about. "Set me down! Little brother, this is hardly dignified!"

The scolding went only as far as her words; despite herself, Dinennaur was laughing as much as Coerheledir was. She somehow managed to wave an arm at her companions as her brother continued to spin around and around with her. "Farbarad, Eofor, this is my brother, Coerheledir."

The young ellon finally set her down and grinned back at the two men. "I see you found help in tracking the Morangmacar. Eofor and Farbarad, eh?" He cross the camp and shook their hands warmly. "It is good to meet you both. Thank you for aiding my sister, I am in your debt."

,

The clasp-bearer coughed and shook his head. "You say that too quickly, Coerheledir." Dinennaur turned to other Elf, and bowed quickly, eyes a little wide. "Dinennaur, is the Morangmacar dead?"

Dinennaur shook her head. "My Lord Elrohir….I…I am sorry, but I failed. He and I will meet and settle our differences some months from now, though. How did you find us, my lord?"

Elrohir frowned. "That's too bad, but there's nothing for it, I suppose. At least he didn't kill you, and at least you and he have set a date for the pulling of this thorn. As for me finding you, well now, perhaps I should keep a few of my secrets."

His lips twitched into a slight grin and he gently elbowed Lagormacar. "Don't you agree, Lagormacar?"

Lagormacar shook his head and rubbed his ribs. "I sent him word via falcon. So, Morangmacar got clear again? That's not good, but it is not the worst that could happen. You'll have better fortune the next time your path crosses his. We'll train to get you ready for that duel."

"Aye, I'll even take a hand and spar with you, if you wish. You're not a bad fighter, and I am getting tired of sparring with Elladan." Elrohir's eyes cut to the Dunedan. "I know you, Farbarad son of Farlung. It has been some time, as men count it, since our paths crossed last."

Farbarad smiled. "Aye, it has, my lord. Forgive me for being so bold, but you've never used that tone with me unless you needed something from me. I may no longer be a Ranger, but I do still owe you a deep debt. What do you need? And will you be so forbearing as to let me ask what you will give me for helping you?"

The Eorling shook his head and fought a rising headache. "And here I thought you said you owed him a debt. Normally one doesn't ask for compensation for that sort of thing."

"Never underestimate my scoundrel nature, Eofor." That was more or less muttered out the side of the Dunedan's mouth and broadened Elrohir's smile ever so slightly.

"Two young Rangers are in Imladris at the moment, and they have a strange tale to tell. I want you and your friend to come with me and hear them out. I wouldn't normally grant a rohir so unknown to us the favor of seeing Imlradis, but we will trust Dinennaur and Farbarad's judgment as regards their choice of companions. We'll see if there's anything you and Master Eofor can do to aid us in the matter of these young men's reports. As for rewards…." Elrohir huffed into the night air and his eyes flicked up to the sky as he thought. "Well now, your debt to me is well beyond repayment, so perhaps a reward for you would be in order. I am a little shocked that you've become such a scoundrel, but that's neither here nor there for now."

Dinennaur perked up on hearing that. There was a chance that Lord Elrond would send Eofor and Farbarad off on an errand? Then there just might be a chance that her travels with them were not over yet. After all, the two were sure to need another companion to help keep watch and fight alongside them if need be, and she had the advantage of knowing them both and being able to work with them…somewhat.

Eofor grunted. "Hmm. To see this Imladris and do some service for the Rangers here? This sounds likes something I'd enjoy. I've never even heard of such a place before, and to go to it….well, it would be a great honor. Shall we depart?" Seven sets of Noldorin eyebrows rose as the Eorling packed up his gear and lit a torch from his pack in the fire. "Is there something wrong, friends?"

Elrohir shrugged. "Nothing overmuch. It's just that I hadn't thought that an Eorling would be so eager to see Rivendell. Then again, I would suppose that it is a special honor for you to come to Imladris. We are careful who we let into our sanctuary, you know, and we try to guard our borders well." A shadow passed over his fair face, and it was a look not lost on the Elves. 'Sometimes not well enough'

He shook himself and took a deep breath. Grief was a weighty thing that had its place, but this was not the time or place. "Well, if you are all read..."

He looked at Farbarad and grimaced. The Dunedan's arms folded and his eyebrows drew together sharply. "No I am definitely not ready. I have had a long march and I am ready for a well-earned rest and…" Here Eofor stepped in and slung the larger man over his shoulders.

To say that Farbarad was displeased would be an understatement. "Put me down! Put me down, Eofor! I'm not enjoying this in the slightest! Stop laughing, Dinennaur, this is not amusing. It's not amusing at all."

Eofor shifted his grip on his companion and started walking. "You're the one saying you're tired, friend. I'm just trying to help you along so we can get to this Imladris as soon as possible and not waste any of these fine gentlemen's time."

Farbarad was silent for a long moment, and then what Dinennaur was sure was the greatest and longest sigh in all Arda whooshed out through the camp. There was little chance of talking Eofor out of something like this; while Farbarad had a strong will, it was tiresome to him to exercise it.

"Very well, Eofor, you've made your point. We'll set out for Imladris right this moment." The redhead set him down, and took a step back as the half-annoyed Dunedan jabbed him in the face with a bony finger.

Farbarad was aggravated with the Eorling, but not as much as might be supposed. Eofor was so honest, honorable, and sincere about everything that it really was hard to stay too angry with the lad. In a way, it was like having an over-excited nephew or favored frolicsome hunting dog. If only Eofor knew what he was being compared to…the thought of it put a small grin on Farbarad's face.

"Stubborn fool of a son of Eorl! I cannot believe I let you talk me into this, but I am a man of my word, at least mostly so." He shook his head and poked him in the chest once more before continuing.

"All the same, you should know that you've destroyed any interest I had in having a son someday. You'd somehow get ahold of him and make him as much like yourself as you yourself are. Well Lord Elrohir, we'd best break camp and head for Imladris as soon as we can. Dinennaur, I could use your help in taking these tents down."

Lagormacar coughed. "We'll be heading back to our own camp. My warriors wanted to see Dinennaur here return to Imladris, but we need to be back at our vigil. Good luck to you, Naneth. I hope to see you at my unit in a few days, or later if the Aran sends you on this quest with the Dunedan."

Dinennaur bowed to her captain and waved to her comrades as they trooped off into the night. The remaining folk found themselves on the road to Imladris just a short while later. They entered Imladris after what seemed to Farbarad to be an interminable hike, and the exhausted Dunedan collapsed in road just past the gate. Elrohir looked down at him and shook his head.

"You're going to have to get in better shape than that, mellon nin." He stooped to haul the man to his feet but Dinennaur waved him off.

"I'll take him, my lord. In his defense, he's not normally this easily tired. He's been taking the longest watches of any of us, so that counts for some of it. I told him not to burn the lantern at both ends, but he doesn't listen…Coerheledir, would you help Eofor?"

Eofor was yawning broadly and shaking his head to stay awake. He hadn't expected Imladris to be a twelve mile march, over rough terrain, from the campsite. If he'd known, he'd have agreed with Farbarad that it'd be best for them to sleep before making the trip.

As it was, he had his pride. He in turn handed Eacen's reins to Coerheledir and waved the Elf's help off. He staggered on sleepily behind the two. Even the sight of Dinennaur stumbling along with arms full of exhausted Dunedan failed to startle him into full alertness Nor did he jolt to his senses on hearing her repeated hissing that this was the sort of thing that she'd thank that worthless lump of meat Morangmacar for doing. The Eorling was never so grateful to lie down in a proper bed as he was when Coerheledir guided him to a little room in a house beside a smithy. The Eorling curled up in the soft blanket, nuzzled into an equally soft pillow, and slid off to the world of dreams.

Morning hit the Dunedan hard. He rolled out of bed and hit the wood floor with a curse. He clawed himself upright and stared around the little room, half ready to go back to bed. A flash of movement off to the right spun him about, hands half-clenched.

The newcomer yawned and stretched in his chair "You're awake, then? Good, I can let my brother and our host's noble guest know that you're awake and ready to hear their concerns."

Farbarad stared hard at the young Dunedan sitting in the chair by the door. He was mostly blade-thin, but his arms showed him for an archer, and the green and brown cloth marked him as one of the Rangers.

"Who, exactly, are you and where, exactly, am I?" The question came out a little raspy and harsh, but that was mostly because Farbarad was tired, and he disliked people sitting around in his room while he slept. In his current state the only thing he liked less than such folk were people who said they were going to take steps that would bar him from the future sleep until nightfall.

"I am Aralung, son of high captain Borgond of the Trollshaws division. You are in the house of Tologtirith, a blacksmith of Imladris. You are also very rude, but I can forgive that. My brother Fargond says I'm not all that courteous to him either."

"I see. I am truly grateful to have your pardon, Master Aralong." Farbarad snorted an irate snort and stared stonily at the younger man, who met his gaze unblinkingly. The minutes crawled by, and Aralung started shifting uneasily in his seat and doing his best not to blink. Farbarad caught the motion and smirked wickedly.

"I think you have something in your eye lad, and I'm being generous in saying that. I'd say that you don't have the spine to match your brash words. However, I would have no trouble taking you on as an apprentice in the arts of discourteousness." He waved off Aralung's angry denial and broadened his smirk. "Well now, I suppose I'd best meet your companions."

With that, Farbarad stepped out through the open door and down the simple stairs to the breakfast table. A powerfully built Elf and an elleth were bustling about, bringing food from the kitchen to the main house. Dinennaur, Coerheledir, and Eofor were all seated at the table and tucking into their breakfast, and a silent bear of a young Dunedan sat across from them. The real shock to Farbarad was that the Lord of Imladris was sitting at the head of the breakfast table, serenely sipping tea and talking with Eofor. Beside him sat Halbarad, lieutenant of Aragorn himself.

Coerheledir waved a friendly hand at Farbarad as he came in, and tossed a scone in his direction. Farbarad caught it and started to break it open when he sensed the chill that came into the room with the young man's actions. To say that Coerheledir had just horrified his father would be an understatement. To say it was the height of impolite behavior to throw food in the presence of the lord and protector of all Imladris would be understating an understatement. Eofor felt Dinennaur tense beside him, and he quietly scooted his chair away from the angry elleth. He was not about to get into a fight between siblings.

Lord Elrond took the whole event in stride, and even seemed a little amused by it. "Calm yourself, Master Tologtirith. I am the father of two sons, and this is tame compared to what they did when they were young." His brows drew together slightly as he looked at the young Elf. "At the same time, what you did flaunts the laws of manners in a sweeping style. This is your father's house, not a soldier's dining tent. If you were a few years older, I would have spoken to your commander about this. As it stands…consider yourself reprimanded."

The table was quiet for a moment after that, and the folk around it shared in a tasty breakfast of boiled eggs, cheese, scones, butter, and jam. Slowly, talked warmed back up around the table, and eventually turned to the pressing matters at hand.

Halbarad cleared his throat and leant forward. "Our scouts and spies in the mountains have sent word of Orc trouble in recent months. I do trust the reports of the scouts, but I still wanted proper confirmation of this problem. To that end, I sent the sons of Captain Borgond to scout the mountains some time back. They sent word back to me via pigeon, asking me to meet them here in Imladris, as their report was too serious to communicate in other way than words. What they told Lord Elrond and I is troubling in the greatest sense of the word."

Fargond nodded. "Indeed so. The Orcs are massing again in the mountains. Sharolg, son of Bolg, was among the few Orcs who survived the Battle of the Five Armies. He claims the right to rule as the son of their dead warlord, and has since managed to throw his enemies out of Gundabad itself. Isn't that so, Aralung?" Aralung had lived with his brother long enough to know that that was a coded plea for him to step in and continue the report.

"Aye, he threw them out a bit too well. He found and threw out so many of his enemies that they bonded together against him. Most of these Orcs, from what we understand, hate Azog's line for bringing all sorts of slaughters and disasters on them."

He knocked his pipe out into the dish beside him and stretched back in his seat. "As we all know, Azog brought the War of Orcs and Dwarves and Bolg the Battle of the Five Armies. They claim that Sharolg is unfit to rule and they may well be right, though the idea of any Orc being fit to rule anyt…"

He paused, wide-eyed, as Dinennaur placed a hand on his mouth. "Your pardon, Lord Elrond, but this must be done." Elrond glanced from elleth to edan and nodded slowly. This was a little improper, but it wasn't quite as bad as tossing scones about. Tologtirith was evidently not of the same mind, and looked fit to die of embarrassment until Caranmirwen led him from the room to talk about something or other.

The elleth turned a pair of calm eyes on Aralung. You're a wry sort, friend, and I do not mind that one whit. Some Elves and some Men do, but not I. That said, we should hear the bare bones of it before we hear your commentary." Aralung nodded, still a little surprised. "Now, what of these enemies of Sharolg's?"

"There are several factions of exiled Orcs and they really only share a common dialect and a hatred of Azog. They would've cut each other's throats if they'd stayed in Gundabad, but exile's a funny thing. Their leader is Gurzahk…" Halbarad leant forwards and Aralung's eyes made an annoyed flick upwards as he found his report interrupted for the second time today.

"Gurzahk?" Halbarad's eyebrows rose. "Gurzahk of the Mountain Packs? The captain of Azog and then Bolg's Warg-riders?"

Eofor perked up at that, sensing a story somewhere in the Dunedan's words. "You and he've crossed paths, Master Halbarad?"

Halbarad made a face. "Not exactly, no. My duties keep me in Eriador for the most part, and Gurzahk has shown up more in Rhovanion than here. I do, however, have friends in Mirkwood who fought at the Battle of the Five Armies, and my Lord Aragorn has come across him in his travels. Gurzahk's a ruthless sort from what I've heard and he's a legend among the wolf-riders in the mountains."

Arlung opened his mouth again, and again he was interrupted. "Aye, you've hit it on the head, sir." Fargond ignored the withering scowl Aralung directed at him. "He is a popular leader…for an Orc, at least. As of now, there's a civil war in the mountains between the two sides."

Tologtirith and Caranmirwen chose that moment to re-enter, and they quietly retook their seats. Coerheledir greeted his parents with a short wave and a smile, and then rejoined the conversation with: "I see. I am still young and so I must beg your forbearance for what may seem a foolish question. Why is any of this vital, at all? If Orcs are killing each other, then I say let them do it and let them rot. What business is it of ours how many Orcs cut each other's throats?"

Halbarad glanced over at Elrond, who leant forward, steepling his hands. "That's not as foolish a question as you might think, Coerheledir Tologtirithion. It lacks an understanding of the situation, but that is not necessarily foolish. The problem is that Yrch wars never stay between Yrch. The beasts will steal supplies for their war from caravans, or raid down into small settlements for food and whatever loot they can find for themselves. That in itself is a concern. Second, this is a war for control of the surviving Orcs of the Misty Mountains. Whoever wins it could cause us all a fair bit of trouble."

He shifted in his chair. "And that brings us to you three. Elladan and Elrohir will coordinate the defense of Imladris no matter what, and Halbarad of the Dunedain will move his men along the mountains, but we are in need of further information. Fargond and Aralung did us a great service with what they brought back, but we need still more."

"To that end, I have decided to send small party of warriors out to investigate matters further. We need to know who these Orcs' allies are, if they have any. We need to know which faction bears the favor of Sauron, if any of them do. We also need to know what the Enemy might be planning concerning these factions. Will he send more men to the mountains? Will he try to invade Eriador from them? These are the sort of things we need to know fully to have a proper defense."

Fargond nodded. "Aye. Aralung and I were unable to venture long in those lands. We may be skilled young Rangers, but we are young, and Gundabad and the passes near it are dangerous ones. Keener minds and sturdier hands than ours might have more success gathering information than we did."

Tologtirith glanced over at his daughter, who was fidgeting about and doing everything she could not to look particularly excited about the thought of going on such a trip. "I think you have one volunteer in my daughter here."

Eofor and Farbarad exchanged glances, and Farbarad sighed. "Very well. We'll go with her on this mission. I take it we will be rewarded?"

Elrond's eyebrows rose sharply, and Dinennaur's face picked up a glare that Tologtirith was sure he could use to heat his forge for at least a thousand years if he could just transfer it from his daughter's face to his furnaces. Elrond's fork scraped against his plate as he stared thoughtfully at the man and did his best to keep his face blank. Elrohir had warned him about Farbarad, and he supposed he really should have listened. Halbarad made no attempt to hide his disgust, and stared at Farbarad as if he were something he'd just cleaned off the sole of his boot.

Elrond finally leant back and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I see. You want a reward, do you?" He pursed his lips. "We will give you something for your trouble, Farbarad, but this matter really is too important for us to haggle about prices. You cannot use any reward we might give you if Orcs burn the towns of Eriador."

Farbarad reddened, embarrassed. Why oh why did he say such things in front of the most important people? "I stand chastened, my lord. By your leave, my companions and I will leave Imladris in four days. I have supplies to buy, and folk to talk to, and I am sure Dinennaur and her family would love the time together." He rose and bowed to the lord of Imladris.

Eofor nodded. "Then I'll stay close to Master Tologtirith and his family. I will see you later on, brother." That word sent Farbarad's eyebrows skyrocketing to the top of his head, but he held in any other display of surprise until he was out of the house.

"Brother?"

AN: Wow, that was a long hiatus. I originally had another OC in here, but I wanted to get Elrond and Halbarad. I tried to keep them in character as best I could.