A/N: Hi everyone, here's chapter 16, I hope you enjoy it. Lots of interesting things in this chapter, and many different plot points to explore. I hope you like it and enjoy the things that are happening. Please enjoy, and leave a review maybe? Either way, please enjoy, and see you next time.
Glorfindel was staring at the fire in his office, trying to control his anger, when everyone began to arrive. He did not move until the last people to arrive, the twins entered and shut the door.
"Apologies for being late," Elrohir said, "We were visiting Adar."
"How is he?" Thranduil asked.
"He woke up briefly and recognized Glorfindel," Elrohir said, "He was asleep when we were there, but Arwen decided to stay for a while and help Hadlathon," while Elladan ignored Thranduil. It seemed he was still upset about the pact his father and Thranduil had made all those years ago.
None other than Thranduil noticed it, and he did not mind as he knew it was something he would need to speak to his father about, and there were smiles and sighs of relief all around when they heard the good news, but Glorfindel did not join in. Instead, he said, "While I am glad Elrond is beginning to improve, that is not why I sent for all of you."
"And what was the reason, Glorfindel?" Gandalf asked.
Glorfindel finally turned away from the fire and looked at the wizard, "The guards who found Cendar and Tordag found the body of a dead human earlier today. This was jammed in his mouth," holding up the message tube, "The letter inside is addressed to Elrond."
Everyone was silent, then Círdan asked, "What does the message say?"
Glorfindel sighed, taking the letter from his pocket and reading:
To my favorite elf-lord,
You certainly are clever, sneaking away like that. I'm not sure how you did it, but you can be sure I won't make that mistake again. You and your friends broke the rules, but seeing as you were dying I understand why you did it and honestly can't fault you for that. The hunt will be longer now. It does not excuse the fact that you broke the rules, and I will not tolerate that. That she-elf won't be punished, yet, but you will be. The hunt will continue as soon as you leave your little sanctuary again, and we will be waiting. This doesn't end just because you found help.
Enjoy the peace while it lasts, half-elf, I will be waiting for you, and then we will finish our little game. One of us will die, and I have no intention of it being me. This does not end until I say it ends.
Such are the rules of the hunt,
The Huntress."
There was complete silence for many long minutes, and then the room erupted into noise for many long minutes. It died down eventually, and Elrohir said into the silence, "She said ada would be punished. Should we post guards on the balconies and outside his doors?" his worry and fear clear.
Glorfindel was already nodding, "I will arrange it as soon as we are finished."
Elrohir nodded, while Legolas said thoughtfully, "Cendar and Tordag said that the hunt was this woman's obsession. They were right. She is willing to wait however long it takes to complete this and kill Lord Elrond."
"Which means we can find her beforehand and find the location of the fortress, and find Avorneth," Thranduil added, "If she is willing to wait and is hiding outside Imladris' borders, then we have a chance of finding her."
"We cannot risk Avorneth's safety, though," Elladan said, "Perhaps we should wait for ada to tell us, then we can come up with an effective plan."
"Elladan is right, I am afraid," Celeborn said regretfully, "We cannot risk spooking this woman into a brash action. Trying to find her could jeopardize things," glaring at his distant nephew as he said it. Thranduil only glared back and said nothing.
The Noldor may be slightly more cautious, but they were not the Silvan. Thranduil knew his warriors could find this woman without being detected or seen, and they would only tell him when they did so. He turned back to the conversation at hand in time to hear Glorfindel say, "The human's body is in the healing wing. I want Cendar to see if he can recognize him. I want to have a deeper understanding of what we are up against."
Everyone nodded, then Galadriel said, "That message ended with a familiar refrain: Such are the rules of the hunt. It must be what the spy Harvaon meant, and what the saying they rely on is. We can use it to find those hidden in cities and towns that work for that woman. It will be a start in ending this. We cannot just cut the head off this snake, we must find all parts of it and stop them all. This could continue on even if that woman is no longer leading it."
"The King of Rohan and Steward of Gondor are already on the alert, my lady," Gandalf said, "I will send them messages with updates on our progress and what to be on the alert for. They can begin the process of searching for hidden hunters and assassins."
"And that just leaves us with what to do with that letter," Heledhon said, "Should we destroy it?"
"Yes," both twins said at the same time, but Glorfindel shook his head, "No, we cannot. It is evidence against that woman that the Steward may want, and it is not our decision. This letter is addressed to Elrond; he needs to hear what it says."
"But –," Elladan began, only to be cut off by Erestor, "Glorfindel is right; Elrond has a right to see and read this letter. We have no say in this matter," nodding at Glorfindel, who folded the letter and returned it to his pocket. He would keep it safe until Elrond was well enough to read it and understand it.
Elladan grumbled under his breath and shook his head, but said nothing more. He recognized a losing fight when he saw one. Glorfindel said, "We need to be extremely vigilant from now on. That woman may try to send people here to hurt Elrond, or Cendar and Tordag. They will all need protection until this is resolved. I will handle it. Cendar and Tordag can recognize the hunters; they will be targets and their lives will be in constant danger. And Elrond knows where the fortress is, he will need to be kept safe until he is well enough to look after himself and fight once more."
"We will be cautious, and we will look out for any human or other being acting suspiciously," Belegon promised immediately, while Heledhon said, "We will ask the Dúnedain to help as well; they will have an easier time watching for suspicious humans than we will. They are used to looking for danger everywhere."
"Very good," Glorfindel said, and then looked around at those assembled there, "I think that is it. We all know what needs to be done, so let us get to work."
Everyone left then, heading off in different directions to begin assigned tasks or whatever duties they had been attending to before the meeting was called. Thranduil motioned Legolas to follow him, which he did, already guessing what his father wanted from him.
And indeed, when they were alone in Thranduil's chambers he said, "I want our stealthiest elves looking for those humans. They report directly to me and no one else."
Legolas nodded, "The elves waiting outside the valley that none know about?" referring to the twenty or so elves that were waiting outside the valley and were so well hidden they were invisible to all those that did not know they were there. They communicated with their king using a falcon that was just as stealthy, having been trained by Lord Elrond himself in his younger years.
If anyone could find those humans without spooking them, it would be those elves led by Feren and Elros.
Thranduil nodded again, "I will deal with whatever the repercussions will be. We both know that these hunters can find humans without being detected, let us use them while that woman is overconfident," Legolas nodded again and Thranduil continued, "Have them observe and report only for now. I will decide what to do when Elrond can add his opinion as well."
Legolas bowed his head and left, while Thranduil went out onto his balcony, hoping he was right about that woman and her confidence in herself and had not made a grave mistake.
He did not want to lose any of his warriors to that madwoman if he could help it.
The next day saw Heledhon making his way for Elrond's chambers, well aware Arwen had just left to try and get some rest, which gave Heledhon the opportunity he had been looking for. He had been wanting to do this for a while, but he had not been able to get Elrond alone. Some things needed to be kept between friends, and this conversation, while likely one-sided, would help Elrond heal. And while Hadlathon would be there, he knew how to keep secrets, and when to leave to give friends some privacy.
His lord's chambers should be empty right now.
And Heledhon needed to make things right. He owed Elrond that, and his friend had been suffering in silence over his supposed death for over a year.
He needed to make things right, he told himself firmly as he opened the door to the living area of his lord's chambers. He shut it quietly behind him, walking to the bedchamber door and reaching for the handle. He paused then, hand hovering over the handle, ears straining. He could just make out the sound of a harp coming from the other side of the door.
His hand found the door handle and he opened it slowly, sticking his head inside. There, sitting on a vacant chair near the bed, was Maglor. He was just sitting there, strumming his harp and humming quietly. He looked up when Heledhon opened the door but did not get up or cease his playing when Heledhon slipped inside all the way, shutting the door behind him. Hadlathon was sitting near the fire, listening quietly and staring into the distance, quiet reflection in his eyes as he listened to the ancient minstrel's playing.
Maglor just kept playing, leaving Heledhon very confused as to what he should do. Maglor was a Kinslayer and not welcome in any Elven Realm, not that he went to any as far as Heledhon knew. He was one of the Exiled, and would never be welcome anywhere ever again; on either side of the Sea.
He had committed too many wrongs.
Heledhon knew better than any of those wrongs. He had never known his siblings and in-laws and nieces and nephews because of the Second Kinslaying of Doriath.
And yet Maglor had raised, and according to Elrond, loved, Elrond and Elros when they were younger. Did that allow him some clemency in Imladris? Was Lord Elrond even aware of Maglor in the valley? As far as Heledhon knew, Elrond never said anything to anyone about Maglor or being raised by him. That was a secret that was his and his alone. Not even Glorfindel could open that door, and he had tried with everything from conversation and threats to alcohol.
Which did not help Heledhon with his current dilemma. What should he do about Maglor in his lord's bedchamber?
The answer was given to him when Maglor's humming faded away and he played one last chord on his harp. As the chord dissipated on the wind, Maglor sighed and shut his eyes, shaking his head. He opened them a moment later, standing quietly from his chair and running a gentle hand across Elrond's cheek. He turned to Heledhon then, "I only wanted to know he was safe, and home. I cannot make up for what I did to him, or to you, but I needed to know. And I wanted to play for him one last time. That was his favorite song when he was a child," he looked closely at the silent captain, "Is it meaningless to apologize?"
Heledhon found his voice then, "Only if there is no sincerity is it meaningless."
A tear came to Maglor's eye, and he whispered, "I am so sorry, for all that I have done and all that I am. I am so sorry for all the pain I have caused you."
Heledhon said nothing, staring at Maglor a long moment before slowly nodding. Maglor had never been a liar like any of his brothers, and he could see and feel the sincerity.
He truly meant what he said.
Elrond shifted and stirred slightly, and Heledhon turned to him for a brief moment. Elrond settled and Heledhon looked up again...only to be confronted with an empty room.
Maglor was gone, no sign of him anywhere, as if he had never been there in the first place.
Heledhon shook his head, settling on the bed next to his lord as Hadlathon came to check on him. Hadlathon murmured, "He sometimes comes into the valley, yet none see him, and he lets none see him. Maeassil will leave out food and clothes for him, but he lets none near. He still believes he is cursed and that all he touches will fall to ruin and be cursed as well. Elrond knows he comes and does not stop him. Elrond has not forgiven him, but he does not hate him. His feelings are ambiguous at best," feeling Elrond's pulse and his forehead to see how his fever was. Both were better; the medicine was working and Elrond's body was slowly starting to mend.
"I do not think I will be forgiving him, ever," Heledhon said quietly, "But his apology was sincere."
"He does not expect forgiveness, Heledhon, only asks for a chance to apologize," Hadlathon said as he coaxed a few sips of water into Elrond's mouth. They had to be careful not to surprise his system with too much food and water at once. It would be too much of a shock to his system, "He knows that he will never be welcome anywhere, yet he comes here because he still looks after Elrond. He has been waiting in the gardens, out of sight, ever since Elrond disappeared, for him to come home. He has been waiting, and now that Elrond is safe he will return to his wanderings," Hadlathon left after that, disappearing into the bathing chamber, leaving Heledhon alone with his thoughts.
Which were confused at best right now, but he decided to leave it be for now. He could sort through them with Faneth's help later. His wife was amazing when it came to understanding and puzzling through emotions and feelings and thoughts he himself did not understand.
He turned to Elrond, gently taking his hand in both of his. It was heavily bandaged up to the fingertips and down to the elbow, and Heledhon knew that most of Elrond was covered in bandages as well. His wounds were many and painful.
And yet, the wounds on the inside were the worst. Elrond had thought him dead! He had thought one of the first friends he had ever had was dead, and for over a year at that!
Heledhon shook his head in despair, looking at his lord's sleeping face. Elrond had helped him years ago process the trauma of the Second Kinslaying because he had a perspective that was rarer than just surviving a Kinslaying. He had been a captive and then raised by Kinslayers. That was something no one else could lay claim to, and Elrond's words that day had allowed him to find some peace. The half-elf was truly one of the wisest people he had ever met, even at that young age.
He shook his head again, leaning in to say quietly, "I do not know what you have been through these last years, Elrond, or what you have done. But I want you to know I am here. I am alive and am not going anywhere. I intend to go with you when you finally depart these Shores, and that is my oath to you. I am here, I am alive. You have not lost me, and you never will," gripping his hand tightly but gently as he said those words.
Elrond gave no response, still asleep, and Heledhon smiled sadly. His lord needed sleep more than anything else right now, and Heledhon was glad he was resting quietly and peacefully, slowly regaining his strength.
The sleeping herbs the healers were giving him probably helped as well.
Heledhon decided to leave then, having said all he needed to say. He tried to put Elrond's hand back on the mattress and was surprised when he could not. He looked down, and a tear came to his eye when he saw that Elrond's hand was gripping his as tightly as he could, with no intention of letting go.
Somehow, Elrond knew he was there and was willing to ignore the pain in his hand and fingers to let him know he knew Heledhon was real and alive. He was willing to show he knew Heledhon was there. Heledhon watched in amazement as some tension left Elrond's body and he relaxed, clearly able to sense Heledhon was truly there and not a hallucination.
Heledhon smiled, settling back onto the bed to stay a while longer and give Elrond the comfort of knowing he was there for however long it was needed.
He would always be there for his lord, no matter what.
As Heledhon kept Elrond company, Cendar was quietly reading a book one of the healers had gotten for him. He was not yet well enough to leave the healing wing, and neither was Tordag, but they were getting better.
The healing energy of the valley and its beauty were natural balms to healing wounds, both physical and emotional.
Next to him, Tordag slept, Eafled curled up next to him. She had more or less glued herself to her brother, although a she-elf named Edhelvain would come and take her to bed every night. Cendar sighed, he had learned Edhelvain was Avorneth's sister, and he could only begin to imagine what it must be like for her.
It must be awful; your sister a prisoner in some unknown place far from home and you powerless to help her, knowing the location was in a delirious and ill elf's head.
They could do nothing until Lord Elrond was well enough to tell them where to go.
A throat being cleared caught his attention, and he looked up and was instantly surprised. It was not an elf, but rather an older man. His hair was turning gray and silver, and his black beard was streaked with gray. The older man stared at him a moment, silver eyes sharp and keen, before saying, "I am Arahad, Chieftain of the Dúnedain."
Cendar's eyes widened and seemed in distinct danger of popping out of his head, and he hurried to say, "It is an honor to meet you, my lord. I am at your service," well aware he was speaking to Isildur's Heir.
Arahad smiled as he sat down in a nearby chair, "I thank you for your loyalty, captain, but we both know it will never be acknowledged until the Blade That Was Broken returns to Minas Tirith."
Cendar nodded, "That may be so, my lord, but you still have my loyalty and my service, should you ever need it."
Arahad stared at him a moment before slowly nodding. He then said, "I would like you to tell me everything that happened, starting from when you were captured all those years ago. I want to understand how these men think and how intelligent they are. I will be asking young Tordag the same as well, but I would like to hear your whole tale if you would tell it."
"I will tell you everything I can," Cendar said, "As well as what rumors I know from others that have survived these hunts."
Arahad nodded, settling into his chair and listening closely as Cendar began to speak. He spoke for close to an hour about all he knew and all he had experienced. Arahad listened, an idea of what the hunters valued more than anything beginning to form in his mind.
Cendar had barely finished when Glorfindel entered and walked over to him and Arahad. He nodded at them both then said to Cendar, "I have a favor to ask of you if you are willing?"
"Of course, my lord, whatever I can do," Cendar said immediately.
Glorfindel sighed before saying, "One of your hunters showed up at our borders, dead," he looked into Cendar's surprised eyes, "There was a message addressed to Lord Elrond in a message tube jammed in his mouth. I was wondering if you might be able to recognize him?"
"I can try," Cendar said. Glorfindel nodded, coming over and looping Cendar's around his shoulders to help him stand. The world spun for a moment, but soon righted itself, and Cendar went as quickly as he could as he leaned on the elf-lord, a bit too weak to walk on his own just yet. That would change soon enough.
Glorfindel led Cendar, and Arahad who had decided to come along, up towards the doors he had just come through. But instead of leaving the healing wing, he made a quick right turn, heading to a door that had been hidden from sight by the clever design of the room and a tapestry depicting a beautiful image of the halls of Doriath.
Arahad went ahead of them, opening the door and beginning to descend some stairs. Glorfindel and Cendar followed, Cendar not understanding where they were going right away.
He understood when they got to the bottom of the stairs and Arahad opened another door. They entered a room that was freezing cold; looking around Cendar could see that there were no windows and buckets of ice everywhere, the walls made of cold stone. The only source of light was a small torch Arahad held. The room itself had several long tables, most of which were bare. A body lay on one though, and Cendar realized that this room was where the dead stayed until they were buried.
Glorfindel leading him over to the body drew him back to the present, and he looked carefully at it when he was close enough. Sure enough, he knew who the man had been. He nodded, saying, "That is one of the hunters. The hunted don't know their actual names, so we give them nicknames. His nickname was Scrounger, because he would always scavenge. He would take weapons, money, things of value, and trade them for things more mundane to make them harder to find," as Glorfindel began to lead him out of the room and back up the stairs.
"So trading a gold-inlaid sword sheath and knife for a blanket is something he would do?" Glorfindel asked.
Cendar turned to him in surprise but nodded. Glorfindel sighed, "Lord Elrond's knife, and the sheath for his sword, was found by one of our people who facilitate trade in Gondor. He said he got them from a man who got them from another man who traded them for a blanket."
"I see," Cendar murmured, saying nothing more until they were back in the healing wing and Cendar was back in his bed. Once he was settled he said, "Scrounger became the woman's captain after her captain failed too many times for her liking. Scrounger must have failed to keep track of Lord Elrond, and then your people found us," nodding at Tordag, "And that was one failure too many for her. She likely killed him herself, just like her former captain."
"You saw it?" Glorfindel asked, "You saw her kill her first captain?"
"Yes," Cendar said, "Tordag is still upset about it. He has never seen anyone be killed before. That man was cruel, but he did not deserve to die in such a way."
"I will speak with Tordag," Arahad volunteered, "And help him process what he saw that day."
"Thank you, Arahad, I am sure it will help," Glorfindel said, then turned to Cendar, "because of the letter Scrounger "delivered", we believe you and Tordag are being threatened as well. The letter made it very clear that Lord Elrond may be harmed, so we are setting up guards in his chambers and a few to follow you. We will also see about getting you some weapons for when you are strong enough."
"Thank you, my lord, for the weapons," Cendar said, "But perhaps we should teach Tordag how to use them before giving him any? I would not want him to accidentally cut off a finger."
"We will teach him," Arahad said, turning to Glorfindel, "Perhaps the Dúnedain can offer their services helping protect Cendar and Tordag? It would hardly look strange if they were seen with us all the time."
Glorfindel was already nodding, while Cendar was a bit more hesitant, "You have all done so much for us already though..."
"And you are our guests," Glorfindel said firmly, "We would be violating the Rules of Hospitality if we did not protect you. And Lord Elrond would never forgive himself if something happened to you while you were staying in his valley. He would not have it any other way."
Hearing about how strictly Elrond followed the Rules of Hospitality seemed to weaken Cendar's resistance to the idea of protection, and he finally sighed and nodded, "Very well, I thank you for the safety you are offering. I am a veteran soldier, we do not take well to being told we need protection from others."
"A trait that seems to transcend all races no matter what the circumstances are," Glorfindel muttered under his breath while Arahad smiled slightly. Glorfindel glared at him before saying, "I have things I must attend to, and you need to rest," turning to Cendar as he said this, "I will take my leave now," bowing his head as he said this. The two men bowed their heads as well, and Glorfindel left to help Belegon arrange the guards for Elrond's chambers. Heledhon had stayed there for hours and hours and was suitable protection even when unarmed; Hadlathon was much the same even though he was no warrior. He could hold his own in a fight if it came to it.
The two men looked at each other before Arahad pulled up a chair again, looking forward to swapping stories with the Ithilien Ranger.
Cendar was looking forward to it as well, unable to remember the last time he had felt so carefree and safe and without fear. That fear had been part of his life for so long it would take a while to understand how to live without it.
Avorneth was still holding onto the hope that she would be found, after being held for over two years. The Rangers she shared a cell with were not as optimistic, but they were trying. She knew them all by name and what parts of Ithilien and Gondor they were from. She knew their stories and they knew hers. They were friends now and she cared about them deeply.
One of them, Gladhor, was a very good storyteller and reminded Avorneth of Lindir of Rivendell. She had met him once and had loved his tales and songs. Galadriel had tried, many times, over the decades to convince him to move to Lothlórien, but Lindir had no interest. His place and home was Rivendell, and eventually, the Lady had given up.
But Gladhor's stories were always funny and ended with them being unable to control their laughter.
Such was the state of things one night. Dinner had just been given to them, and they had barely finished when the key was turning in the lock once again. Knowing it was too early for the plates to be taken away made them all wary, well aware the hunters could be coming to take one of them away on the hunt.
Instead of a hunter armed with a crossbow, though, an older woman entered, followed by a younger man who turned his back to keep watch at the door. The older woman said, "We need to be quick, before they realize what happened."
The young man nodded, but everyone else was confused. What was happening? Who were these people?
Gladhor asked for them all when he said, "Who are you? What do you want?"
The woman said, "My name is Mariam, this is my son Conner. We are prisoners, like you, but we are trusted not to run away. My joints are too old to go anywhere. And Conner won't leave without me; hence, the hunters know we will not go anywhere. We are here to help, as best as we can."
"Help how?" Ithron, another Ranger, asked.
Mariam said quickly, "My husband died on these hunts, but because we know so much about them we can never be freed. Conner has only ever known this place, he has never left. But the hunters trust us because of this. We have been able to, every few years, release a couple prisoners. They leave with the understanding they may be tracked down and killed, but every one of them believed death was better than bondage."
"How long have you been here?" Avorneth asked.
The old woman sighed, "Almost twenty years, Conner has been here since he was five," she looked into Avorneth's startled eyes, "I have not seen my home, or the outside world in twenty years," her son behind her shifted suddenly, and she said, "We must go now. The hunters will be returning soon. We can only free one of you," her eyes never leaving Avorneth as she said this.
"I cannot just leave my friends behind, Mariam," Avorneth said quietly, "I sense no deceit in you, only fear of being found out, but my friends may be punished if I am found to be gone."
"Remember when I said I was trusted?" Mariam said quickly, "The hunters are superstitious. I will just tell them elf magic helped you escape. They will believe that."
"And we can take care of ourselves, Avorneth," Ithron said, trying to get Avorneth to see reason. She was hesitant and afraid, he could see that, but she needed to leave while she had the chance.
Avorneth still looked uncertain, and Mariam said, "That woman sent a letter that just arrived. Because you are so unwilling and rebellious, and have not been broken, she is sending a man known as Goliath down here to tame you. This man is huge; there is a reason people believe he is part troll. You need to be away from here before he arrives. You need to get to Minas Tirith, or Aldburg."
Avorneth's eyes widened in fear, remembering what Cendar and Tordag had told her about Lord Elrond and Goliath, and she finally nodded. The old woman sighed in relief, looking over her shoulder at her son. He nodded, eyes still watching the corridor for movement of any kind, and his mother moved quickly to Avorneth. It took all of a minute to remove the manacles and chains, and then Avorneth was standing tall without the weight of chains for the first time in years. She flexed her fingers and rubbed her wrists, then said, "I am ready."
"Good," was all the woman said, "Let us go," turning and leaving the cell without a backward glance. Avorneth followed but stopped at the door long enough to say, "I will be back, for all of you," looking at her new friends.
"We will be waiting," Gladhor said, "Now go, while you have the chance."
Avorneth smiled and nodded, almost running to catch up with the woman. Conner closed and locked the door behind them, and then they were gone. The Rangers could only look at each other, hoping against hope that she would succeed in escaping this hell.
Avorneth followed Mariam quickly, easily keeping up with the woman as she led her through the labyrinth of the dungeons. Eventually, they came to some stairs and Mariam began to climb. Avorneth followed her, sense on high alert. There was no one, and Conner said, "The hunters are eating now as well, and there is always a lot of drinking. When that woman is away they are careless. We use that to our advantage."
"I see," was all Avorneth said, following Mariam out of the dungeons and into the yard. Out of the dungeons, Avorneth breathed slightly easier, but not by much. She understood where she was now: on the outskirts of Mordor, where her people had waged war against the Dark One ages ago. Now she understood the heaviness of the air and the evil she could always sense.
Mariam did not stop, making for the stables. Once inside she led Avorneth to a coal-black mare that was already saddled. Mariam said, "She is the only one that will not be missed for a few days. She is rather temperamental, but she knows the area. She will keep you safe."
"I am sure she will," Avorneth said quietly, letting the mare investigate her. The mare sniffed her hands, then nodded her head. She liked this strange person and her beautiful, soft voice.
"She likes you," Conner said, "Good, she will not be difficult."
Avorneth took the mare's reins and followed Mariam to a hidden door out of the stables to the outside world. Once through it, she mounted and Mariam said, "Head for Minas Tirith, or Aldburg in Rohan. Do not head for your home, it is the first place the hunters will look for you. Go as quickly as you can, and be careful. Take this," handing Avorneth a long knife, "I heard the hunters say you know how to use this. Use it well."
"I will," Avorneth said, holding the knife close before looking at Mariam and Conner, "Thank you, for all you did for me, and all you are risking. I will come back for you."
"Thank us when you come back with help for all those imprisoned here, Avorneth," Mariam said, "Now go, while you have the chance."
Avorneth reached down and squeezed her hand for a brief moment, then gathered the reins and nudged the mare into a trot, then a canter, and finally, a gallop, not looking back. Only when the sound of galloping hooves had vanished into the night did Mariam and Conner go back through the door and into the stables.
Once there, and the door was closed, they only made a few steps when the stables were flooded with the light of several lanterns. The two humans could barely process what had just happened when they were thrown to the ground and bound. Looking up, Mariam saw Goliath. He had clearly returned sooner than she had expected, or he had been the one to deliver the letter and had hidden from her because he was suspicious of her. He looked at her blankly, then nodded at some of the hunters. A few dragged Mariam and Conner away, while others prepared horses to ride after the she-elf.
Mariam could only pray she was a fast rider as she and her son were led to the dungeons to be punished for their actions. Her son looked scared, but the look he gave her said he had no regrets.
And neither did Mariam. She had always known it could end like this, but at least she had tried one last time.
As the hunters began their pursuit of Avorneth, her sister was approaching Galadriel and Celeborn with a rather bizarre idea to break Veryafion out of the depression she seemed to be in. Veryafion was worried about her rider and wanted to see with her own eyes that he was healing. Edhelvain could only hope the Lord and Lady did not see her idea as completely crazy.
Edhelvain thought it was completely crazy if she was honest with herself, but she did not see any other option. Veryafion had not truly eaten anything for several days, and Edhelvain knew it was about to become dangerous for her.
Which was how Edhelvain found herself in the gardens looking for Galadriel and Celeborn. They always spent the afternoon in the gardens, relaxing after the stress of the morning. Edhelvain did not have to search long before she found them: sitting in the grass, next to a small stream, watching as the animals rushed about making their last-minute preparations for winter. A squirrel even ran over the Lady's legs in his haste to gather just a few more nuts before the snows came.
Both elves looked up when Edhelvain approached and curtsied, Galadriel saying, "Edhelvain, how good to see you. I trust things are well?" gesturing for the she-elf to sit with them. She did, settling herself in what little grass remained. Looking to the sky revealed it was likely going to snow soon.
Edhelvain nodded, "As well as can be expected, my lady. Idhrenor and I are planning a wedding, so it takes some time," her voice sad as she thought of her sister. Avorneth had been planning her wedding too when she had been taken.
Galadriel smiled sadly, easily guessing where her thoughts were, while Celeborn said, "We will find her Edhelvain, and we will make those that took her pay, you have my word."
Edhelvain smiled at that, "I believe you, my lord, and I thank you for it. But I was wondering if I could pose a rather strange question to you?"
Both elves nodded, clearly curious, and Edhelvain said, "I am worried about Veryafion. She is not eating as she should and seems rather depressed. I think she is worried about Lord Elrond," the Lord and Lady looked at each other, and Edhelvain hurried to say, "I know Lord Elrond is in no condition to visit her, but I was wondering if...perhaps...Veryafion could visit him? It may help her feel better."
The Lord and Lady stared at her for several long minutes, clearly surprised, but just when Edhelvain was beginning to fear they would refuse the idea Galadriel said, "That is a strange idea, but it might be a good idea," turning to her husband as she said this, "It may help Elrond as well."
Celeborn nodded, "I think it is an excellent idea," and Edhelvain relaxed, as Celeborn turned to her. She had been afraid they would laugh at her, or outright refuse. Celeborn smiled, "We will let the twins and healers know, if you will help Veryafion practice climbing stairs. Laeron can help you. We can try in a few days."
"I will get started right away, my lord," Edhelvain said eagerly, rising to her feet, "If you will excuse me?"
They both nodded and Edhelvain left, already very excited about her idea. Once she was gone Celeborn said, "I am glad she has found something that gives her joy, and hope, that things will be well."
Galadriel nodded, but sighed a moment later, "If only I could do as she had done," Celeborn turned to her in confusion, and Galadriel sighed again, "I gave up, Celeborn, I gave up on Elrond. What kind of person does that make me? How could I have done that so quickly? Why did I not check the Mirror? Why did I assume he was gone so quickly?" her voice trailing off as she nestled closer to Celeborn.
Celeborn only held her tighter as he said, "You only did so because you thought he was dead. You could not feel him and that is that. You worked with the best information you had. It was a mistake Galadriel; you are not Eru Ilúvatar. You are not all-seeing. The Mirror had shown you nothing for so long, you did not think it would have shown you anything. And you did not give up on Elrond. He is here, he is healing. You are helping him now. He did not give up, he has not given up on you. Just remember that. He is home, and that is all that matters."
"It does not change the mistake I made," Galadriel whispered.
"None would fault you for it," Celeborn said, "Not even our grandchildren fault you. You did your best. That is all any of us can do."
Galadriel nodded slowly but was quiet the rest of the afternoon as she tried to settle her thoughts and free herself of her guilt. She was only partially successful. The rest would have to come from Elrond saying she had done her best. Only then would she free herself of that guilt.
Elladan was also trying to free himself of guilt, without success. And since Glorfindel was busy and his grandparents were distracted, he had no one to turn to. Which was how he found himself down at the archery field with his bow. He needed to relax and let go of his worries for a time. Archery had always been how he calmed his mind.
Today, as he shot arrow after arrow, his mind roiled and turned every which way. He could not believe what his father had survived, and the lengths he had gone to to keep his family and people safe. He had underestimated how much his father loved his family and people.
He had quite literally been dying for his family and people.
The arrow hit the center of the target with a sharp twang from the bow. Elladan's thoughts darkened as he thought about the woman in that camp. She had been so convincing, and yet he realized now that she had manipulated them and their emotions. She had shown and told them what they had wanted to see and hear, and she had not even blinked as she lied.
Thinking even more about the woman also led Elladan to what she had said about Veryafion. She had done that on purpose! She had known that if she showed interest in purchasing Veryafion they would leave, and that is what they had done.
And as they did so his father had been in that camp, listening as they fell for that woman's lies. Had he even heard Heledhon speak? Did he even know one of his oldest friends was still alive? And if not, would they be able to convince him it was not a hallucination when his delirium finally lessened enough for him to keep his thoughts in order?
How much healing, mentally and emotionally, would his father have to do? How much healing would they all have to do?
Elladan shook his head, letting another arrow fly to hit the center of the target. He did not have answers to any of his questions, and that did not sit well with him. What could he do, aside from stay strong for his family and his people? His options felt limited, and he realized he would have to help his father heal as well.
Realizing this caused a surge of protectiveness to well up inside him. While that woman waited outside their valley, impossible to find, his father could not leave. Not even when he was at full health could he leave. That woman would just take him away again.
Elladan drew in a deep breath, determination in his eyes as he aimed at the target again. Until this threat was gone, his father could not leave the valley. Regardless of what his elders said, he would do everything in his power to keep his family safe. If that meant ignoring their words about his father leaving the valley of his own accord when he finally could, so be it.
He would not lose another family member to the Evil in this world if he had any say in the matter.
He would protect his family with his life, if that was what it took.
That night saw Círdan keeping Elrond company, with Mistaro as the healer there. Elrond's children had already come and gone to say good night to their father and uncle, such as how they saw Círdan. He was the uncle they never had, and he treated them all as his own. And he considered Elrond as his son. There was nothing he would not do for his child, just like any parent would.
Once the good nights had been said and the room quieted, Círdan and Mistaro had settled in. They had talked for a while about times in Mithlond and Gondolin, and about various misadventures, they had over the years. Throughout the stories, Elrond lay still, Mistaro checking his fever and pulse every once and a while.
Elrond's breathing was still congested, and his nose ran heavily at times, but the fever was starting to let go of him. It was not broken yet, but it was only a matter of time before it did break. None of his wounds were infected either, a true miracle considering how severe they were.
A couple hours into the night Mistaro checked Elrond's fever, frowning as he did so. He used his other hand, to make sure he was not mistaken, while Círdan watched in concern.
"What is wrong, Mistaro? Is his fever worse?" Círdan asked, well aware that Elrond's health could still go one way or the other; it was that precarious.
Mistaro said nothing for a moment, checking other places to see how Elrond's temperature was. He finally, after many long minutes, said, "His fever broke. The illness is breaking its hold on him," he turned to Círdan with a smile.
Círdan almost did not believe him, yet when he rested his own hand on Elrond's forehead, he found it cool and normal. The raging heat of the fever was gone, even though Elrond still shivered with cold from the cool winter air. Seeing this Mistaro went to build up the fire and retrieve Elwing's blanket. They had removed it so that Elrond could sweat out the fever without feeling as though he was being suffocated under its weight. Now that his fever was gone they could again cover him with it.
Once the fire had been built up though, Merilinel came into the room as she always did this time of night to change the soaked sheets and said, "We should change the sheets now, Mistaro, my lord. Just so they are dry and warm. You can wash him and change the bandages as well," resting a hand gently on Elrond's forehead as she said this, smiling when she felt that his fever was gone. He twitched away from her touch, not wanting to be disturbed from his sleep. Merilinel only smiled and shook her head before turning to Círdan and Mistaro.
Mistaro nodded, "Excellent idea, Merilinel. My lord, would you assist me please?" walking over to the bed as he said this.
Círdan needed no urging, gently picking his son up and carrying him into the bathing chamber, keeping a blanket wrapped around him for warmth, still slightly disheartened that Elrond was still so thin. He was still too weak, his body still unused to food, to eat anything other than very thin broth and a few sips of water every hour or so.
But Círdan knew that only feeding and rest could help him regain his strength.
It was the work of only an hour or so to wash Elrond and change the bandages. When they returned to the bedchamber, Merilinel had changed the sheets for warmed ones, and they soon had Elrond back in bed, the blanket woven by Elwing last to be laid over him, Elrond sighing and burrowing into the warmth it offered as much as his weakened body allowed it. Merilinel left then to tend to her child and get a good night's rest. Her baby was growing and was very mischievous, and Belegon was hopeless at keeping him out of trouble. He had been like that with all their children, and Merilinel doubted he would ever change.
After Merilinel had left, Círdan and Mistaro again settled down for the night. Eventually, Mistaro nodded off and Círdan did not wake him, knowing he could wake him if necessary and well aware the healer had not truly rested since Elrond had been found; too afraid he would lose his first apprentice and friend during those first few days. He and Hadlathon had also been pouring over medical books and texts, trying to find the right foods for Elrond to eat to help his eyesight. So far, they had only determined carrots and sweet potatoes would help, but they were hoping to find others since Elrond was not very fond of sweet potatoes and preferred carrots raw. Since he was in no condition to chew anything solid right now, unless they found something else, they would be giving him quite a lot of carrot-based food, although Maeassil had assured them she could make things with a lot of carrots in them that Elrond would not be able to taste at all. They may have to rely on that for right now until Elrond was strong enough to eat on his own.
Círdan stayed awake though, and it was a good thing he did; as suddenly, a couple hours after Merilinel left, Elrond began to toss and turn in the throes of a nightmare. Círdan went to wake Mistaro to give Elrond a strong sedative tea so that he could sink into a level of sleep without nightmares, but then something made him stop.
His son whispered in his sleep, "No...Estel...no...stay, Arwen...don't leave," voice raspy and pleading.
Círdan froze then, unable to bring himself to wake Mistaro. Elrond would not appreciate anyone, even Mistaro, knowing he had spoken about nonsensical things in his delirium.
Which still left Círdan with a problem. How should he calm Elrond? In the past, he had known what to do, but Elrond was heavily wounded right now. He could hurt him even more. He needed Mistaro's help. His mind made up, he turned to Mistaro and was reaching out to him when Elrond whispered again, "No...Gil-galad...ada...stay...don't die...please…please!"
Hearing his foster-son call out for the elf who had raised him and been like a father to him, and had been a son to the Shipwright as well, crumpled all resistance in Círdan's mind. He would not wake Mistaro, turning back to his son.
He moved from the chair to the edge of the bed but hesitated slightly. How could he do this without hurting Elrond more? The pain medicines worked very well, so much so Elrond did not seem to feel it when the bandages were changed and pulled away from the open wounds on his wrists and ankles, but Círdan was under no illusions that Elrond felt no pain. He knew Elrond still felt some of it, and this would hurt him no matter what.
Instead, Círdan decided to move carefully; beginning with only a hand on Elrond's shoulder, mindful of the fact that it was broken. Elrond only turned his head in that direction, desperate for the comfort being offered. He whimpered, which tore at Círdan's shields a little more. He raised his other hand and began running his thumb over Elrond's cheek. Elrond only pressed his head against Círdan's hand, needing and wanting the comfort being offered. This prompted Círdan to finally throw caution to the wind and do what he had been longing to do all night.
He settled himself against the headboard and gently pulled his son into his arms. Elrond calmed completely then, the warmth and security of those arms around him chasing away his nightmares and soothing his fears as they always had. He settled down with a sigh, calming even more as Círdan's thumb continued to run along his cheek. After a few seconds Círdan nodded, he had made the right choice and that was that. Sometimes you truly needed to follow your heart instead of your head.
Elrond shifting in his arms caught his attention, and he looked down. Tears came to his eyes and his throat threatened to close when Elrond opened his eyes blearily and whispered into the blackness of his blindness, "Ada?"
Círdan could not speak for several long moments but finally was able to nod and swallow hard against the lump in his throat before saying, resting his head gently on Elrond's, "Aye, child, it is ada. You are safe, in my arms, as you always will be. Go to sleep, I will not leave. Go to sleep," he whispered, humming a song of the Sea he had sung to the twins when they were young.
Elrond sighed and relaxed, snuggling close and deeply into Círdan's arms, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly surrendered to dreams once more. But they would be good dreams now, his father was here to drive away the bad ones, just as he always did. Elrond fell asleep once more, head tucked under Círdan's chin, held close to the Shipwright as Círdan continued to hum songs of the sea the rest of the night.
Neither father or son stirred the rest of the night, both comforted by the presence of the other.
When Mistaro woke the next morning he smiled at the sight of father and son asleep and comforted by the other. He arose quietly and left, leaving them alone for a time to take solace in each other's company.
A healer was not needed right now, Mistaro knew.
A few days later Cendar and Tordag were discharged from the healing wing. All they needed now was rest and feeding and they would be fine. Their wounds were rather minor and were already halfway healed before they arrived.
In those few days before their release, they had made good friends with the Dúnedain in the valley, as well as many of the Elven warriors. Soldiers from Gondor were a rarity in the valley, and elves were curious by nature. Cendar was answering many questions, while Tordag listened and observed, listening to these veteran warriors speak about battles they had fought and survived.
The elves and Dúnedain were curious about the recent war against the Balchoth Cendar had fought in, and he obliged them. In return, they told him and Tordag about Rivendell and what life was like there. They were also speaking to Tordag about how to process what he had seen that night in the camp and he was listening closely, beginning to understand how to move past what he had witnessed.
When Cendar and Tordag were discharged, they were given a tour of Rivendell by the Dúnedain and shown where they would be staying. The Rangers were excellent guides, as was Eafled who had come along to be with her brother and tell him all about the great places in the valley. Her favorite places were the stables and the library. The library even had some books that the blind could read with their fingers, and one of the librarians there was teaching her how to read them.
Cendar and Tordag visited the stables with Eafled and a few of the Rangers, eager to see how their horses were doing. When they arrived it was in time to see that Gledswith was causing a bit of trouble. A few grooms were trying to lead her into her stall, but she was not having it. Now that she was rested she was beginning to regain the energy she had had before the hunt began.
Cendar only said as he watched her antics, "Your mare is more trouble than she is worth sometimes, Tordag," walking over to his gelding and stroking his neck, looking him over as he did so. The gelding was looking better already and seemed glad to see his rider. His stomach was constantly full now and he was eating better than he had ever eaten in his entire life.
Tordag shook his head, "I like that she is the way she is, Cendar. I would not have her any other way," but still hurried over to Gledswith before she could seriously hurt someone. He quickly took one of the ropes tied to her halter from one of the grooms and signaled the other one to let her go. The groom did so reluctantly but was fully able and ready to step back in if necessary.
Once he let go Gledswith immediately tried to run out of the stables. She made it a stride, only to be stopped by Tordag. He had settled into a crouch and was using his weight against her. She turned around abruptly, trying to understand why she had stopped so suddenly. She saw Tordag and her ears went forward, nostrils drawing in a deep breath as she caught his scent. She whinnied joyfully and trotted forward, almost knocking him over in her excitement of seeing him again. Tordag stayed in a crouch, gently blowing into her nostrils which she returned excitedly. She nuzzled and licked him, nickering as she did so. She was overjoyed to see him again.
Tordag stayed in a crouch, quietly untying the second rope and stroking her neck and head. He scratched behind her ears, which she leaned into, and then slowly stood. She circled him excitedly, prancing and snorting, glad to see him again. Tordag only collected the rope into his hand and continued to stroke her neck.
Laeron, who had been watching closely, said, "You have a way with her."
Tordag smiled slightly as he said, "She bonded with me when she was a foal and I was ten. She is kin to Felaróf, very distantly, and so is very spirited. My father gave her to me as a gift. I am the only one who can manage her. Men twice my age have failed, but she is mild as a dove with me. And faster than lightning when she has her strength back. Be ready for her to race faster than the wind when she is healthy."
Laeron smiled at that, "It will be interesting to see what Veryafion has to say about that," watching as Eafled came over to Gledswith. The red mare nickered and nuzzled the girl gently. Eafled laughed and grinned, "Gledswith is very happy, I think."
"I think so too, little sister. She finally got to see you again," Tordag replied, gently lifting Eafled onto Gledswith back. The mare was not strong enough to carry a grown man or even Tordag, but Eafled would not be a problem for her.
Eafled laughed and giggled as Tordag led Gledswith around, the mare occasionally prancing and trotting to give Eafled some fun. Tordag watched the mare carefully, and after about fifteen minutes said, "I think it is time to let Gledswith rest, Eafled. We can see her tomorrow."
Eafled nodded, "Okay, that sounds like fun," her brother helping her to dismount. Once on the ground again Eafled followed her brother to Gledswith's stall, waiting for him to get her settled before a familiar nicker drew her away from Gledswith's stall. He did so quickly, settling her blanket over her and removing the halter. She immediately went to her hay and began eating, and Tordag said to Laeron, "If you have apples, or sugar cubes, they are the best way to get her to agree with what you want her to do. You cannot force her at all. She has to want to do something in order to get her to do it at all."
Laeron smiled at that, "I understand what you mean. There are many horses here that cannot be forced at all," glancing at a nearby red stallion who had his ears pulled back as he said this. Bregedon was always cranky and very rarely got along with anyone. Even Laeron hesitated when dealing with that stallion, preferring to drag Gilornor down to the stables to deal with the stallion when he was being difficult.
Tordag grimaced when he saw the stallion; even without the red ribbon on his halter, he could tell the stallion was a biter. And probably a kicker as well, just for the spite of it.
Tordag turned back to Laeron, only to see that he had walked away to help guide a mare and her foal back to their stall as the foal was being a bit too adventurous. Tordag wandered a bit deeper into the stables, marveling at the beauty of the building and the horses that occupied it. Many were elven, but the Rangers rode horses of hardy stock that could withstand the cold conditions they often lived in. It was a wide assortment of horses and ponies, and he had never seen so many different breeds. And being of Rohan and the horse-lords, he was already very fascinated. He stroked noses and greeted the horses that wanted to meet him, eventually coming to three stalls. The one in the middle was closed, while the other two on either side were empty. He looked inside the middle stall and his heart dropped. He turned quickly and called quietly, "Cendar, over here!"
Cendar looked up from where he had been speaking to Laeron about his horse's preferences at the sound of his name. Something in Tordag's tone had him walking over quickly, Laeron slightly behind him. He looked into the stall, and tears almost came to his eyes when he saw the stall's occupant.
It was Urelais. He was sedated and quiet, tied down in the stall to keep him from moving, and his front legs were heavily bandaged, the left propped up on a pillow to allow some comfort. He was thinner than even Cendar's gelding, and his breathing was labored. It was clear he was very sick and badly wounded.
Tordag opening the stall door drew him to the present, and he followed the boy into the stall, Laeron staying outside so as not to crowd the stallion. Tordag immediately crouched down into the very thick pile of bedding, reaching out a hand under Urelais' nostrils. At first, the stallion did nothing, too sedated to notice right away, but after a few seconds, his nostrils quivered slightly as he drew in Tordag's scent. He nickered tiredly, nudging the hand gently, and Tordag began stroking his head and neck gently, giving what comfort he could. Cendar stroked his neck as well, sending a quick prayer to the Valar that the powerful stallion would heal completely. The stallion had served his rider faithfully and did not deserve this.
Tordag gently checked the broken leg, seeing that the bandages were snug and secure and that the splint was doing its job very well. A shoe on Urelais' broken hoof kept it together and it was bandaged as well. His knees were also bandaged, and Tordag could see that the stallion was also very sick, hence his isolation. He had a fever and his breathing was congested; feeling the glands in his throat Tordag could see that they were swollen and hard, a sure sign of infection and illness. The elves did not want his illness getting to the other horses. He looked up at Laeron, who only said, "Strangles, but it is under control. As his strength grows the illness weakens."
Tordag nodded and stood up, Cendar following to allow Urelais to get some rest and peace. Once outside his stall Laeron had them wash their hands in alcohol to clean off any of the illness on them. As they did so Tordag said, "My father breeds horses for the Éothéod cavalry, but he never tries to mend a broken leg. He knows he does not have the skill, and he cannot bear to force a horse to suffer needlessly for something that may not work. It is the same with a broken hoof. He does not have the means or knowledge to repair it."
Laeron nodded, knowing this was often the case in human settlements that did not have the experience and skill of the Eldar, but only said, "We cannot guarantee it will heal completely either, but as long as Urelais is willing to fight to live, then we will do what we can. As for broken hooves, perhaps we can show you what to do so that you can teach others? It will help many, not just horses. It will help their riders keep loyal mounts and friends, without worrying about an injury that should not be life-ending."
Tordag was already nodding, "I would like that; I hate it when my father has to destroy a good horse because he does not know how to help them. He is an expert breeder and horseman, but there are limits to what he knows," stepping aside so that a groom laden with medicines and bandages and grooming supplies could enter the stall. A fresh blanket was tucked under his arm as well. Urelais nicked a greeting when he saw the groom, clearly familiar with the groom and trusting of him.
Cendar turned to Laeron, who only said, "Urelais' favorite groom is Nortaro," nodding after the elf, who smiled slightly before disappearing into the stall, "And Nortaro is very close to him. He has been tending Urelais ever since he returned," beckoning them to follow him so that Nortaro could work in peace, and so that Urelais would not get agitated from all the people nearby.
They did so, walking with him to where Eafled was checking on the mare Galadriel had given her. Tordag smiled when he saw the little white mare, "She is very beautiful, Eafled. Have you thought of a name for her?"
Eafled nodded, giving the mare a carrot which she took daintily, "Her name is Layfled. She knows I am blind, and helps me ride without getting hurt. She is my eyes and my legs."
Tordag smiled, holding his hand out to the mare. Layfled sniffed it daintily before nodding her head. Tordag stroked her nose and the mare nickered. She liked this one.
"Well...it is nice to know she is such a good friend to you Eafled. I hope Gledswith does not get jealous," Tordag said with a laugh.
"If she is not jealous of Veryafion, then she will not be jealous of Layfeld," Eafled said determinedly.
Tordag cocked his head, "Who is Veryafion? I heard Laeron mention that name, who is it?"
Eafled immediately became excited, "I'll show you. She is the most beautiful horse ever."
Tordag smiled while Cendar, who had been listening quietly, said, "If you are so sure, Eafled, then lead the way. Let us judge for ourselves."
Eafled nodded eagerly and led them toward the biggest box stall near the entrance. This stall had extra carvings and etchings around the door and a beautifully crafted gold-inlaid halter hanging next to the door. Tordag followed her and his breath caught when he saw the mare occupying the stall.
Her curved, elegant head and neck seemed sculpted from marble, and her large nostrils and eyes gave her an exotic look, especially since her eyes were as blue as the sky. She was a large mare as well, standing taller than Cendar at the shoulder, but she was lightly built and was clearly swift and strong. Every line of her body flowed elegantly into the other. Her mane and tail were like spun silver and were lusciously long and thick. Her coat was a beautiful silver as well, dapples of shimmering white and silver over her haunches and legs. She looked at the two men and snorted, pawing a hoof.
She was incredible and she knew it.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Eafled's breathless voice drew them back to the present. Even though she was blind, she knew Veryafion was the most beautiful horse in the entire realm.
"She is breathtaking, Eafled," Tordag said, "I do not think I have ever seen a more beautiful horse, ever," next to him Cendar nodded.
"Edhelvain says that Veryafion is bred from the finest racer and finest jumper in the entire world," Eafled said eagerly, as the mare walked over to meet these strange newcomers even though there was no need. Gledswith and the gelding had already told her everything she needed to know. She just needed to see for herself what their intentions were.
"Edhelvain also said Veryafion can leap obstacles taller than her, and is very smart," Eafled said, laughing as the mare nuzzled her before turning her attention to Cendar. The older man stayed still and let her sniff him closely, knowing she wanted to know more about him. Tordag smiled at his sister's eagerness, "What else were you told, Eafled?"
Eafled laughed, "I was told that Veryafion can understand speech and solve complex problems on her own, because she comes from Aman."
Cendar's eyebrows shot up, "She is from the Undying Lands?" which now that he thought about it explained a lot as the mare regarded him with extremely intelligent eyes. Whoever owned this horse was very fortunate. Cendar knew the stories about the horses of Aman and knew they stayed loyal to only one person their entire lives. Fingolfin's horse, Rochallor, was proof of that.
Eafled nodded, "That is what everyone says. They say that she was able to find Lord Elrond inside of an hour when she was allowed to look for him because she is so closely bonded to him."
Cendar turned to her in surprise, "She is Lord Elrond's horse? I thought Urelais was," Tordag looked similarly surprised as the mare turned her attention to him.
Laeron joined them then, giving Veryafion a sugar cube that she ate halfheartedly. She badly missed Elrond and wanted to see him healing. She was also confused as to why Edhelvain and Laeron were having her climb stairs. She already knew how and was puzzled as to why they were having her do it. Laeron said, "Yes, she is Lord Elrond's mare. Being from Aman she can live for thousands of years. She was a gift, along with her twin sister, to Lord Elrond and his brother during the First Age. She has served him loyally and faithfully since then. She had been waylaid by an injury, and was in foal, when Lord Elrond left. She regrets she had not been with him," watching as the mare turned away from them after meeting Tordag.
"Trust me, Laeron, she was lucky she was not there," Tordag said, "The hunters want the horses broken as well," Laeron knowing he was referencing the lash marks all over their horses. Laeron nodded, "I know, but Veryafion is loyal to Lord Elrond. She sees it as her duty to be by his side, always."
"I see," was all Cendar said, watching as Veryafion turned her head to listen to the sound of horses and riders approaching. Looking to the entrance Tordag and Cendar saw that two men were being escorted by a patrol. Visitors to the valley most likely, Cendar well aware that the valley was open to all races, except the creatures of darkness they all fought against.
Cendar turned back to Veryafion, but in the next instant, Laeron asked, "What is wrong, child?" looking down at Eafled as he said this.
Cendar and Tordag looked at her, and instantly became concerned when they saw that Eafled was holding his hand so tightly her knuckles were white. Her eyes were wide with fright, then she said quietly, "Those men..." voice trailing off in fear.
"What about them, child?" Arahad asked, having come over from greeting Asfaloth next door when he saw her fear. Everyone had fallen in love with Eafled, and so everyone did everything in their power to keep her happy.
She had already survived something no child should have to survive.
Eafled swallowed hard, then said something that chilled them all to the bone: "Those are the men that left me to the orcs and the cold."
Translations:
Adar/ada – Father/daddy