Glorfindel was racing across the plains. He had been pushing Asfaloth as hard as he dared for the past weeks and, to his credit, his steed was indeed rising to the challenge. But, no matter how much ground they covered, no matter how hard he searched, Glorfindel was coming up largely empty.

His was an oxymoronic task as he was on a reckless yet cautions search as he roamed the lands. It was indeed true that Middle Earth had become incredibly dangerous as of late. Bands of orcs and other beasts roamed freely whilst the peoples of the land were wary of strangers. For Glorfindel, there was no hiding his golden hair and elvish features, not even a cloak with his hood pulled down low was sufficient to disguise him enough to walk amongst settlements of men. Wherever he went he drew attention, and attention was the last thing he wanted. If he wished to find Elenya... he would have to be subtle, to be silent about it. There was no doubt in his mind that the girl didn't want to be found, but he was determined.

And, it seemed that his hard riding was paying off. He made it over the Misty Mountains and had skirted his way around Mirkwood Forest. Although he had been tempted to stop at Erebor and resupply, he was far too eager. He was getting close, he knew it. Somehow... he felt it in his bones that he was getting closer and closer to Elenya.

Bang

Out of nowhere a burst of light threw Glrofindel from Asfaloth's back. He flew through the air and hit the ground hard, tumbling over the uneven earth. As soon as he stopped rolling he reached for his sword, though his movements were sluggish from the blow that he took to his head. Distantly, he could hear Asfaloth's distressed calls, but all his focus was on the speck of black in the sky, quickly growing in size.

It was her.

Elenya landed on the grass a few meters in front of him. She still wore a cloak that covered her wings when she tucked them in, but her mask was gone and her hood was down. She looked haggard and exhausted, but her eyes still shone brighter than any star he had ever seen.

"Elenya... I-" he didn't even know where to start. "I- I've been looking for you."

The question seemed to startle her, for she froze and then slowly looked him up and down.

"Why?"

"I- because-" he lowered his sword to the ground. "Because I'm sorry-"

"You betrayed me," she had her two blades in her hands and her arms trembled in what Glorfindel could only presume to be rage. "You broke your promise and you betrayed me!"

"Please, I'm sorry," he found himself choking on his own words as he rose to stand. She slid one foot backwards and held both of her blades aloft in a ready stance. He held up his empty hands in a show of peace. "Please, let me bring you home."

She barked out a harsh, cold, and somewhat manic laugh.

"Home?! What home?!" Her grip on her blades tightened as he took a cautious step forward. "Are you talking about Imladris? That's no home to me." He continued to walk towards her, but she remained frozen in place. "I haven't had a home since I was dropped in this godforsaken place."

"Please, let me fix that. I-"

"You will," she whispered, so quietly that even his sharp, elvish ears struggled to pick up on her words. He was straining so much to hear her, in fact, that he completely missed the sound of something approaching from behind.

It was only the slightest whistling of the breeze that alerted him that something was flying at his back. Instincts took over and he was half turned when it collided with him, a large, warm mass ploughing him to the ground. He looked up and his eyes widened in shock as he recognized his attacker- it was Nightshade.

The wolf who he thought was dead now had him pinned to the earth. The wolf growled fiercely and bared its gleaming teeth to the elf. Centuries of battle experience surged through his veins as the twisted sharply to pull himself out of the beasts grip. He rolled across the grass and lept into a crouch, drawing the small dagger that he kept in his boot. His sword was on the grass where he had dropped it and there was an angry wolf between him and his blade.

Said wolf was now growling lowly as it slowly crept forward.

In the moment where Glorfindel would usually tighten his grip on his blade, he paused.

He had sworn the wolf was dead, he knew that Elenya had thought the same and he had never before seen such pain and rage in her eyes. If he killed her friend now, right in front of her, and right after his betrayal- then she would never forgive him. She would be lost to him for forever.

He dropped his dagger and lept backwards, barely missing the snarling jaws of the wolf. Intuition guided his steps as he lept to the side, dodging the attack that she launched at his unprotected back. He stood in a half crouch, hands still up in a gesture of peace as the wolf and girl circled him slowly as wolves do their prey. He was tense, ready to dodge and leap, but unwilling and unable to strike back. He prayed to the Valar that he would be able to reason with her.

"Elenya please-"

"Don't call me that," she snarled and launched herself forward, unleashing a flurry of blows.

Whoosh

Swish

Wham!

One particularly brutal strike barely missed Glorfindel's side as he was almost too slow. The blade hit the a hard rock in the earth and the sound reverberated around them. As the attacks increased in speed, Glorfindel was forced to put all of his effort into dodging both the girl and wolf.

Later, he would realize how unhinged Elenya's fighting was; how generally she fought with utmost restraint and grace, precise strikes that killed or maimed in a single blow. At the moment however, her strikes were wild and uncoordinated, completely unpredictable.

Her blades were a constant, deadly hum and Glorfindel was forced to use all his skill and grace to stay out of her range. He knew that if he could just get a tiny bit closer, he could disarm her without harming her. If he could manage then we was certain he would be able to reason with her; but Nightshade was fierce and incredibly protective.

It was two against one.

He was completely unarmed.

And he was afraid to harm his opponents.

Any sane elf would be terrified... but as it has been pointed out before, Glorfindel was never really considered sane.

Oh the comments Erestor would say could he see this, Glorfindel couldn't help but think wryly as he continued to jump and dodge blade and fang alike.

At one point, Glorfindel found himself somehow with his back to a tree. A brief idea flashed into his mind and he planted his feet. The stillness seemed to launch Elenya into the slightest bit of confidence as she once more swung her swords with all her might. Like before, Glorfindel dodged away at the last second and smiled in delight as Elenya's blades became embedded in the wood behind him.

His joy was short lived however, for Nightshade launched an attack with full fury, barreling at him with such speed that he was practically sprinting backwards in his attempt to keep out of the wolf's jaws. He hopped from one spot to the next, moving so agilely that his feet seemed to barely kiss the ground. Many before had seen his tall framed and been decided by it, thinking he would be slow and brutish- but no, he moved like a dancer on the battlefield and never before had he been more grateful for his lightness of foot.

But, there was a problem.

He had become so engrossed in his deadly dance with Nightshade's jaws that he stopped paying attention to his back. He completely missed that Nightshade had been subtly herding him backwards into a very particular direction. In fact, he didn't notice that he was retracing his steps until all of the sudden, he felt something grasp his hair and yank him backwards. There was a solid sounding thunk that part of Glorfindel's mind was screaming at him for that part of his brain seemed to think the sound to be dangerous. The larger part of his mind however, clung to the last words that he heard spoken.

"You'd think that after this happened before... he would learn to tie back his hair."

Evelyn froze as she stared at Glorfindel's prone body.

It was a little like the battle had occurred to someone else, that she was merely a character in one of her favorite stories and she just finished reading the epic battle sequence. She felt like that hard, hollow sound that she heard when Glorfindel's head made contact with the tree- when I yanked his head into the tree- that pestering voice in her head wasn't helping her in this matter, was fake. During the fight she had felt nothing but anger, but rage when she saw him happy as could be... riding his stallion out without a care in the world after his betrayal. There had been some joyful glee as she had grabbed him by his hair and knocked him unconscious. But now, now the rage had burned out and she was just tired.

She had done it... she was fulfilling another dark deal with Sauron, the deceiver.

In truth, she hadn't even really meant to find him. From the moment she set her eyes upon the land that Sauron offered her, it was like giving a drop of water to a many dying of thirst in the desert... it did nothing to satisfy her but only made her losing stronger. The tugging of her heart for the mere concept of a home, of a safe haven where she no longer had to run from, hide from, or battle evil creatures whilst hiding herself from civilization was too much.

So... she thought that she would "try." She would fly out, do a few scourings of the sky and upon not finding Glorfindel she could safely assume that he was tucked away within Imladris, within the bounds of Elrond's ring of power where she couldn't reach him. She told herself that the effort of "having tried" would be enough to quell the desire, it would be like sealing away the chance that she was offered.

She never thought that she would actually find him.

I've been looking for you.

The words floated through her head and she did her best to shake away the question. It was hard enough to stand over him, looking down at his face- far too still and serene for having been knocked unconscious. Yet still he was. He was still just as beautiful as the night she first saw him, when she held him and cradled him as he died, the night where his golden hair fanned out in the flames to create a halo, the night where he looked like an avenging god battling satan himself. He still looked so pure and righteous, and angel that could never fall. And yet, she saw him pushing aside Legolas, she saw him making a promise and breaking it like every damn elf she met since arriving in Middle Earth. His broad shoulders and large hands were like the men she met on the road, the men who leered and came far too close, who only backed away with the aide of a blade or her menacing wolf companion. There was a juxtaposition of his image in her mind; one side was the beautiful and righteous protector, the soft promises and eager eyes just begging to save her- the other was the betrayer, the liar and the same ill intent of so many who she met.

She hated and feared him.

He was hers.

Evelyn was no fool, she knew that she was no match for him if she was trying to capture him. Of course she could always do to him what she did to the troop of orcs; one savage blow of power could wipe out an entire hoard, it could certainly destroy a single elf no matter how valiant he may be. But yet, she couldn't do that... she couldn't bring herself to kill him. That first blow to knock him off his horse had been dangerous enough. She really couldn't control her powers... they were like a raging river, building up behind a damn and once she released it, who know where the torrent would fall, what it would break through and destroy in its path.

And so he let her capture him, this elf who she spat her rage at was either suicidal enough to not care or trusted her enough to allow her to render him senseless.

Evelyn tried not to think too much on the latter and instead told herself that it was surly the former.

Now she was at an impasse. She had three options and she turned to Nightshade to seek advice.

"I can kill him here, end this and we can move into our new land."

"But you won't," Nightshade stated in such a matter of fact tone that Evelyn couldn't help but feel the slightest bit annoyed at her companion's smug- no, resigned tone.

"I can drug him and bring him with us... he can live in the cell and we can move on with our life."

"I doubt that will end well."

"Or I can leave him here... he'll wake up eventually and maybe-" Evelyn paused for a moment, uncertainly crept into her voice as she chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "Maybe he'll consider it a defeat and go back home... and we can continue our life like nothing happened."

"That would be the most sensible option."

Evelyn paced back and forth for a few more minutes before eventually resigning herself to her choice. Really, she had already made her choice and was only now accepting it. She reached into a small pouch tied at her waste and pulled out a little metal flask that she had "lifted" off a particularly unsavory merchant some years ago. While she sometimes felt bad about stealing for her needs, this man was a slaver and she had taken both his flask and the keys to his "merchandise." Keys that mysteriously made their way into the slave pit. She found that she didn't feel bad about that particular incident.

But the flask proved very very valuable, and she had rarely used it before. Now, she figured that it was a good thing that she had saved it for so long. She uncapped the flask and made her way over to Glorfindel's still form. Ever so carefully, she lifted his head onto her lap and dripped a few drops of the liquid in the flask into Glorfindel's mouth. As she moved to put the flask away, she paused and was frozen to the scene. There he was, his head in her lap, his crystal blue eyes wide open. She swore she could see his stomach ripped open, organ falling onto the filthy, ash strewn floor. She could feel the heat of the Balrog's flames, the thick and choking air filled with smoke. She could hear the cries of refugees fleeing their home in terror as rocks crumbled all around her as if the earth was trying to swallow her whole.

"I see we're going with the least sensible option then," Nightshade's sardonic tone snapped Evelyn out of her memory. She shook her head for a moment to clear her thoughts before she pushed the elf's head off her lap and stood.

"Tis a fair bargain."

"Yes, a bargain with the deceiver."

"I know his title... I told it to you. But so far he has kept his bargains more than any other, at least he is honest in his hatred and deception. Besides-" Evelyn almost reached down to touch Glorfindel's face, but she pulled her hand back like it had been burned at the last second. "I may choose to kill him later."

Although by then Evelyn had turned around so she could roll the elf over, she swore that she could hear Nightshade rolling her eyes. Nonetheless, the wolf obligingly laid down and allowed Evelyn to tied the now bound elf over her back. Nightshade began walking in the direction of their new home, but Evelyn paused for a moment.

Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth was still where he had been the entire fight. He was antsy, bucking and braying, calling out for his master who he now saw being carried away on the back of the wolf who had growled at him when he tried to join the fight. Evelyn knew that the beast was a war horse, that he was trained to protect his master and she could sense the fondness and concern that he felt for the unconscious elf.

Evelyn approached him slowly, one hadn't outstretched as she murmured soothing words that quickly quelled the horse's protests. She spent a few moments merely running her fingers through the stallion's mane, her hands rubbing soothing circles across rippling lines of muscle that were still hot from his face across Middle Earth. There was no doubt in Evelyn's mind that the creature had been worked hard and that he was exhausted.

She then turned her hands to her own hair which was pinned back as she often had it when fighting. She found the little hair pin- the one with the golden flower and the dangling feathers. For a long time she had debated throwing it into a river or so far into the trees that it would be lost for forever, but she could never manage to do it. Now, it was time for her to let go of her lingering fondness, time for her to admit to herself that Glorfindel was as much of a betrayer as any elf and that she didn't care about him. Maybe his imprisonment would be punishment, maybe it would just be for her convince.

If there was anything that Middle Earth had taught her, it was that rectitude forfeit in a land where only the strong survived.

Evelyn rubbed her thumb across the hairpin one last time before weaving it into Asfaloth's mane. She stroked the stallion and whispered instructions to him. She wanted him to return home, to return to the herd of Imladris where he would be happy. She promised the loyalty steed that he had done all he could for his master, but informed him that some there were some fates that even the grandest of warhorses couldn't prevent.

Asfaloth nickered softly in reply and turned, trotting back the way he came.

Evelyn took one more moment to watch the gleaming white horse disappear before she lifted herself with her wings to catch up the Nightshade. Her wolf was bearing her cargo in silence as they journeyed on, traveling to their home.

They had a home.

Maybe it would all be worth it.