I'm sorry because this Elorhir bit is brief before going back to Glor but I'm not sure what to write without just going on about him traveling or accidentally creating confusing time skips or even worse some unimportant rambling that has nothing to do with the plot (much like my cringe author notes I apologize). I hope you like this chapter none the less!
Elrohir does not risk emerging from the water until he is sure he's a safe distance away and the creatures will not be able to run him down quickly. He climbs from the water when the bank is low the cliffy terrain having drifted away miles ago. He feels almost numb as he glances towards the sun beginning to dip beneath the mountains on his right. He starts a quick pace towards Imladris feeling horribly exposed in the wide plain. He knows the creatures would not have been able to catch up with him as they did not ride wargs but the fear is still there no less. Not to mention he still feels in shock that the plan had seemed to work so perfectly. He had been able to clear a quick path to the edge of the makeshift bridge and the moment Glorfindel had given the word he plunged into the water below. He had resurfaced with a grin expecting to meet a golden smile and bright blue eyes. Instead, as he was swiftly tugged down the river, his eyes had met the Vanya's and a panic he had never before seen was clouding those usually joyful orbs as he was forced backward by a large orc gripping a length of rope tightly around the elf's neck.
The young elf was not even able to see how his friend fared before the swift Glanduin had swept him too far to even make out the bridge. With a heavy sigh, he picks up his pace knowing it will take him at least a day to cross this plain and at least another four before he reaches home if he does not take time to rest. Elladan should have already made it there if he did not run into trouble along the way. If that is the case he wouldn't be surprised if his father is already marching this way, which would mean they will likely meet in the middle sometime between the next three days if he picks his course carefully. He knows his father is a good tracker and if Elladan is in any shape to travel with him they will reach the initial spot of the attack with ease. He does not worry about them finding him, it is his friend who is now left in the hands of orcs alone that holds his sole concern. His head pounds in an annoying drum that he wishes would already leave him be. The gash on his head is nearly healed but he would not be surprised if the sword hilt that had hit him left him with a mild concussion as well. Not thinking much longer on his own pain for long the young elf focuses on getting help for his lost friend as quickly as possible.
When Glorfindel awakes the world is dark as his head pounds, an intense strain now pulling at his shoulders. He quickly realizes his feet are barely touching the ground forcing the majority of his weight to hang on his bound wrists that he can easily surmise are strung up by one of the tree branches. His eyelids are heavy as he forces them open nearly panicking in horror when the same inky black surrounds him. He calms slightly when he feels the tight fabric of a blindfold secured around his eyes.
"Finally awake after your little nap? Could save yourself a lot of time elf, want to tell me where Imladris is," the voice of the Captain growls to his right a snickering laugh mingled with his words.
Glorfindel spits out a curse in Quenya barely holding back a shout of surprise when he's backhanded harshly. "Tell me what I want or shut your tongue," the orc threatens now much closer, his rancid breath causing the elf's stomach to nearly turn. The elven lord swishes some now irony spit around in his mouth before spitting it in the direction he can hear the ragged breaths coming from. A smirk crosses his face when the creature howls in anger. He can make out heavy footfalls briskly move away before returning stopping a few yards away from the elf this time.
Before he has time to wonder what the captain has planned for him the sound of something flitting quickly through the air meets his sensitive ears followed by an intense stinging pain cutting into his chest. His muscles tense as he realizes the creature must wield a whip in its clawed hands for he's never heard anything else make the accursed sound sept the flaming ones favored by Balrogs.
This time a crack fills the air before the whip licks his skin again in the same spot and he finds himself desperately wishing he at least had his vision to see the coming strikes. Instead, he's left in this inky void where the hard leather is biting his skin without any warning or pattern. He flinches slightly when the whip strikes a little higher than the others digging into the thin skin of his collarbone. This seems to please the Captain as he laughs and focuses his attention on that area hoping to illicit another reaction from the elf.
The whip easily tears through his tunic apparently as eager as its owner to inflict as much pain as possible. Only the first strike after is light enough to welt the others that follow cause a thin line of blood to ooze from each new mark. Although Glorfindel does not move again refusing to give these foul creatures pleasure.
"Are you ready to talk elf?" the orc questions with a smirk evident in his words.
"Are you prepared to die like the rest of your filthy kind when I escape?" he returns hotly nearly shouting in shock when the whip suddenly collides with the left side of his face. The leather cuts deeply into his cheek and digs into his upper lip causing blood to pour quickly from the wound. He growls harshly struggling to spit the flowing liquid out of his mouth with the numbing burn now encompassing his face.
"It is okay we have other ways of making you talk," the orc says smugly saying something unknown to the elf in the ugly black speech causing a bunch of the other orcs to suddenly begin moving around. He struggles with little use as his tunic is roughly cut and torn from his frame leaving his already injured chest bare. He seethes angrily behind the blindfold listening carefully as the beasts still their movements a quiet tension of anticipation seeming to wash over them as they wait eagerly for whatever their captain has planned next.
Two pairs of footsteps approach the clawed hands belonging to them reaching out to hold him harshly. One curls tightly in his hair tuggingly it almost mockingly causing him to snarl rather unelf like as rage overwhelms him. While he has kept it pointedly shorter than it once had been since returning to Middle-Earth it still flows in golden waves a little ways past his shoulders. And is still a touchy subject a times.
He struggles against them as another orc grows near but they simply laugh in mirth at his futile attempts. He tries to listen for anything that will warn him of what torture is to come next but can hear nothing but the impatient shuffle of the orcs. For a second he wonders if they are simply trying to scare him like some young elfling when something cold is shoved against the skin just below his abused collarbone.
Confusion fills him until something he has not smelled since his other life meets his nostrils making him near sick when the chill against his chest turns into a blinding hot anguish. He grits his teeth against the pain and horrid reminders the scent of burning flesh brings to his mind. After a few seconds, the agonizing heat recedes only slightly before returning to a different spot.
Glorfindel closes his eyes behind the blindfold begging the Valar to give him strength as he numbly shoves down the pain. He forces himself not to feel the brand being harshly shoved into his skin again and again. Instead, he lets his mind and thoughts drift to a different time and place. Losing himself in a pleasant memory.
A beautiful white city sits tall and proud around him as he strolls the streets happily. Other elves bustle about without a care, going about their own days with simple smiles and relaxed demeanors. As he nears the various Halls designated for the different Lords of Gondolin he stops with a large smile on his face when he sees Ecthelion writing something lazily beside the fountain. As he strides over dark eyes glance up to meet his own light ones with a joyous smile.
"Glorfindel my friend, it is good to see you. How has your patrol?" he questions, briefly glancing down to finish whatever he had been working on before setting the papers and pen aside.
"As well as can be expected. Some of the younger troops have been giving me trouble," he answers honestly sitting beside the raven-haired elf and dipping his fingers in the cool water of the fountain.
"I remember a time not so long ago when we were the young ellon's giving our commanding officers grief," the lithe elf responds with a wry smirk that has the golden-haired elf rolling his eyes.
"Yes now we simply do the same for our King," he jests in return causing them both to laugh softly. With a sigh, Glorfindel shifts to lay on the side of the fountain with a relaxed smile as he gazes up at the warm autumn sky. He can feel his friend's dark eyes watching him carefully causing him to huff out a chuckle.
"You worry too much mellon, I will not fall in. Besides I am quite sure I know how to swim," he says with a smile as he intently watches a lone cloud move rather quickly across the blue sea above them.
"I am aware, but you know I do not like it when you sit so close with armor on," Echtelion responds lightly picking up the discarded papers to scan over them intently.
"Are you writing another song?" the golden elf asks softly, closing his eyes as the sun's warm rays shine down upon his fair skin.
"I am. It came to me in a dream actually. Would you care to hear it?"
He's jolted from the memory by the tension on his shoulders suddenly disappearing causing his weakened and unprepared legs to collapse beneath him. As reality returns so does the suffocating pain that sears into his skin which is only made worse by hands roughly dragging him back against the tree.
He's not tied as securely as before but they still take pleasure in wrapping the rough material tightly around his fresh wounds. He gasps in breaths as every movement causes them to only hurt all the worse. "Better get your rest while it lasts worm," the orc growls voice fading as it disappears somewhere else in the camp.
Glorfindel allows a small groan to escape him as he attempts to get as comfortable as one can when in his state. He wishes he could see the sky, the dark abyss swallowing him is near suffocating. It reminds him too much of the black void he had fallen through only alight by the flames of the balrog and his own burning clothes. He shakes the demons away closing his eyes tiredly under the blindfold. Exhaustion overwhelms him but sleep does not come until some time later when his pain finally beings to fade and cherished memories lull him into a deep rest.