When Glorí woke the next morning the sun was already climbing high into the sky, almost signaling the normal call for lunch. The fire had died down almost completely, only a few hot embers remained under the charred wood. She sat up groggily and pushed away her blanket, much to the annoyance of a very sleepy Theo who had been sharing the makeshift bed.
Once the fire was burning with renewed strength she sat back and pulled on her boots. Over her head she pulled a large tunic to cover the light undershirt she wore. The tunic was one of her late brothers' spares she had taken when growing too big for her own.
After a breakfast of left over meat and strong tea she rolled up her blankets and took up her pack and weapons. Once the fire had been kicked out she and Theo turned for home, a small clearing some two miles from their camp.
The day before they had journeyed to the horse pasture. It was little more than ten miles from the clearing, yet they had decided to spent the night outside for there had not been a cloud in the sky to block the stars. The main reason for their visit had been the birth of a new foul. He was the offspring of her own horse, Twilight. Both were black as the deepest shadows of night, although the new foul had the white of his mother around its ankles.
Glorí smiled at the thought of the small horse, hardly tall enough to nip at his seniors' shoulders. He was small, but his frame was promising, that of his fathers. She had yet to name the addition to the forty horses she owned, but she believed he would grow into his own name.
She was brought out of her musings as she and Theo entered the familiar clearing. The small cabin in the center, the four headstones marking the graves of her family, and the stream cutting close to the edge of the trees. There were two more wolves near the cabin, stretching out lazily in the midday sun. They snapped to attention at the approach of their king and left the space.
Glorí watched them go before pulling from her belt two fair pieces of meat and tossing them into the bushes behind her some way. She waited until she heard the wolves behind before she continued towards the cabin door.
Gently she pushed the door and it swung open. She looked about her at the few things held in the cabin. A bed set in the corner against the far wall, a trunk at the end which held her fathers weapons, the set of drawers that held her clothing in one drawer, books and paper in the others. The bookcases standing before the wall opposite the door, crammed full with books from writers, elf, men, and the occasional dwarf text. She had learned all languages by heart, could speak, read, and write in them all. The common language she used scarcely, preferring her fathers' native tongue.
She crossed the small room to her bed, her steps strangely muffled by a large rug cast upon the floor. It was old, almost as old as her father had been. It depicted the great star of Eärendil, the most famous star to the elves of Middle Earth. Under the watching eyes of the star was set a small village, wholesome and peaceful by the looks. It was just an old rug but she thought it was pretty, so she had traded for it when last in the Mans village.
Setting her bag upon the bed she opened it and turned it upside down to empty the contents. The book, a soiled tunic and a dagger fell to the covers, among a few papers and maps. She set all the things in their respectful place around the cabin. Then she turned to return to the outdoors.
The sun was shining brightly, the summer day was beginning to get hot, and no breeze was to be found to give relief from the heat. She decided to check the traps along the north line of her property and Theo followed her as she set out for the starting point.
When they returned Glorí set right to work building the cooking fire and soon had a pan of meat sizzling merrily. The smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, calling many wolves to the clearing. What was left, which was always a lot, she gave to the guests before washing up. Then she lay in the grass next to the fire, just looking up at the moon and stars, thinking about the many songs in her books written about them.
About three hours off from dawn she awoke to the sound of a horn close to the clearing. It startled her and was beginning to think that she had just imagined it when there came another call, bright and uplifting, a call for friends to come to arms. It was nothing like the harsh calls of the orcs, more like the men or possible the elves. In any case she ran inside and went to the trunk at the end of her bed. Throwing back the cover she reached inside and grabbed a bow and quiver, slinging them over her shoulders. Reaching in again she pulled out her father's belt and sword. Standing swiftly she rushed to the door, grabbing her bag on the way, and out over the clearing, plunging into the woods in the general direction she guessed the calls to have come from. Less than a mile away and the sound of fighting broke out, ahead and to the left of her. She notched her bow and stealthily approached with Theo at her heels. What she saw took away her breath.
In front of her, no more than ten yards, a group of traveling elves had been waylaid by a band of orcs in a large clearing. There were a little more than twenty elves surrounded by no less than sixty orcs. The elves were trying valiantly to fight through the ring of evil creatures but had little success.
Drawing back the string on her bow she let the arrow fly. It found its mark in the throat of an orc standing over a fallen elf. The elf just sat there for a moment before finding his bearings and standing once more.
Glorí did not dwell on him though. She shot at the orcs, first from one place and then another so that the orcs could not pinpoint her. She continued to take down orcs from the safe shadows of the dense trees until there were no arrows left. Then she drew her sword and said a hurried prayer to the Valar before charging into the clearing. She swung hard at an orc directly in front of her, taking off its head. Blood splattered her clean shirt but she paid little heed to it.
Pushing forward she came face-to-face with an oncoming orc, blade raised above its head. She deflected the blade and plunged her own deep into its torso, sliding it out again with just as much ease. Blood once again showered her hands and arms.
The clanging of metal continued to cut through the still night air for almost twenty minutes. Many elves lay wounded and orcs dead upon the blood soaked grass of the clearing. Finally the orcs began a retreat, but not alone. Glorí watched as three orcs dragged the bloody and bruised form of an elf with them into the woods.
"Glorfindel!" One long cry cut above the rest of the noise. Glorí watched as the elf who had given the cry attempted to leap into the woods after his friend, only to be held back by some of his own.
"No! Elrond, you must help here first, there is nothing we can do for him at the moment. The elf named Elrond looked like a child that had just been stricken by his mother.
"Others need your help now." Said the strange elf, waving his hand at some of his wounded kin lying nearby. Elrond turned swiftly and bent near a fallen elf, beginning to tend to his wounds. Glorí would not give in that easily, she had to help the captive. She retraced her steps to find her bag she had so carelessly thrown aside when she had first arrived.
Returning to the clearing she searched the ground for any whole arrows. She found a quiver of them lying next to a dead orc. Grabbing them she replaced the orc arrows into her own empty quiver. Standing she found Theo nearing her, his face was dark with the blood of orcs, in the dark of the trees she caught the flash of eyes and the flicker of heavy tails. She let out a low whistle. The wolves stepped into the clearing, much to the alarm of the elves. But the beasts walked right over them, not giving them much heed. In less than a minute she was surrounded by a group of about fifteen dogs, blind with fury and rage at the orcs that had taken six from their number. When all were present she motioned to Theo. Instantly her wishes were met as seven wolves followed Theo around to the left and eight followed her to the right. They plunged into the eaves of the dark forest, making no sounder than the wind itself.
The plan was simple. They were to follow the orcs until they found them. Then Theo's group would circle around to cut them off as Glorís' group attacked from behind. With hope they would be able to retain the hostage with little trouble.
By the time they had gone three miles the band of orcs could be heard ahead. Glorí and her group began to sneak up behind them, fanning out as they went. When she had maintained a good position among the lower branches of a tree, so she could better aim the bow, she looked down upon the orcs that had stopped, waiting for day to come and pass.
They were in a sort of cave hollowed out from the rock with the wind. The cavern was about fifty feet deep and almost as wide. There the orcs would be safe from the sun until they could venture out again the next night. Already day was nearing and would find them within the hour.
Peering down through the upper branches, Glorí made out what she saw below. The orcs stood in a circle, in the middle were four figures beside a small fire. Three of the figures were orcs; the other was the one she sought. He was already bloodied and bruised, his hands bound behind his back. He was lying on the ground in a crumpled heap as the orcs kicked and whipped him mercilessly. Suddenly the beating stopped and two of the orcs brought the elf onto his knees, each holding on to an elbow to keep him from falling forward. The third orc stepped up from behind with a knife in his clawed hand. He brought it forward and traced it down the back of the elf's' shirt, chuckling when the elf wiggled in pain as the knife collided with flesh.
By the Valar, hurry Theo! Glorí silently prayed as the orc approached the fire, revealing from its depths a red-hot poker. Even as the orc brought the poker centimeters from the skin, a blood-curdling scream sounded from the midst of the orc ring.
Wasting no time and with the speed only elves can possess, Glorí strung her bow and sent the arrow through the eye of the orc holding the iron poker. Dogs pulled down orcs from everywhere, leaping for jugulars and knawing on arms and legs, anything they could get between their jaws. Finally all the orcs in the cave lay dead; angered dogs were pursuing the ones that had run off.
Glorí slowly lowered herself from the tree. Scanning the area quickly she ran toward the limp elf. As she was kneeling next to him she pulled her knife across the leather straps binding his hands. Gingerly she rotated the elf onto his back, careful of his still fresh wounds. She stripped the already torn and bloodied shirt off of his body. Reaching into her bag she withdrew a small jar of ointment and smeared it upon the many cuts on his chest and arms. A long and deep cut ran across his left thigh, and she dressed it as quickly as she could, pressing a mass of bruised herbs against it. As she finished a low moan of pain escaped the elf's lips. Slowly he opened his eyes, looking up at her he started, then stared at her intently.