The fires burned lower, the moon came and fell, and still Glorí sat beside Gil-galad, holding his burning hand in one hand while the other stroked the brown chestnut hair from his burning brow. Throughout the night she had sat near him, watching his smooth, muscular chest moving with each breath, mesmerized by each rise and fall. Every now and then her eyes would stray to his face, peaceful and relaxed though dotted with beads of sweat.
A low moan sounded from Gil-galad's lips. His eyes began to flutter and his monotonously even breath became uneven. Glorí noted the signs of waking and moved to grab a cold wet cloth from the desk as Gil-galad stirred with another groan.
Glorí returned to his side just as his eyes opened. He looked about himself for a moment before focusing on the girl sitting beside him. He went to sit up but felt a pair of strong-arms push him back.
"Try not to move too much." Glorí said as she laid the cloth over his burning forehead.
"Wha… what happened? Where is Elrond?"
"We had to move you to better treat the fever that threatened to overtake you. Elrond and most of the others have returned to Imladris to seek help. Try to drink this." She answered as she pressed a goblet against his parched lips. "It will help control the fever." Gil-galad reluctantly complied, managing to swallow all of it.
"I need to check your wound." Gil-galad nodded solemnly and allowed her to remove the bandage. Although she was being as gentle as possible she knew her ministrations must have been hurting the elf greatly, although he did not betray it. She moved her fingers lightly over the raw skin. It was healing rather quickly now that the poison was wearing away. It would be a little while before it fully healed.
"This looks a lot better. You should be able to move within the week." She assured him as she replaced the bandage. "Would you like anything?" She asked last.
"No." He grabbed her hand as she pulled away. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Everything."
"'Twas nothing. I do not doubt you would have returned the favor had our roles been reversed." Gil-galad said nothing in reply but smiled. Glorí smiled back down at him. They stayed that way for a moment before Gil-galad was overcome by the need to yawn. Glorí's smile widened when she saw this, "You should rest, you will need your strength." He nodded slowly and was asleep before she could sit down again, partially due to the potion she had given him.
Glorí still sat next to his bed, his hand in hers. Periodically she checked his brow and was pleased that his fever was nearly gone.
A few hours after dawn, Glorí heard a soft knock on the door moments before Glorfindels' head popped around the corner. She beckoned him to enter and pulled a chair close to her for him to occupy. He came and sat next to her, handing her a plate of food.
"How is he?"
"Better. The poison still lingers slightly, but the fever has receded and the wound is beginning to heal."
"So, he will be alright?" He questioned, sounding slightly anxious.
"Yes." She replied as a smile crept over her face at his loyalty. She had discovered that all the elves seemed to regard Gil-galad with certain vehemence, making her wonder if his status was more than meager traveler.
They sat for a moment lost in their own thoughts until Gil-galad stirring brought them back to reality. Gil-galad looked sternly at Glorfindel and Glorí took the unspoken meaning to heart and left the two.
Stepping outside she blinked to readjust her eyes to the brightness of the early sun. The remainder of the elves was seated near a small cooking fire near the center of the clearing. They were busy talking when she approached and didn't take notice of her until she was right behind them.
The babble quickly died as she took a seat next to the warm flames. She looked around at the elves, one eyebrow slightly raised in question.
"Did I interrupt something?" She asked, her gaze settling on the fire.
"No, we have just been trained to silence with the approach of a Lady." At this Glorí could not suppress the laugh that came from deep within.
"I am no Lady! Just a simple country maiden! Don't worry; I find it more disrespectful to stop when I come near."
"But you are not just a simple maiden, you saved the lives of many of us. We are in your debt."
Glorí stood, still chuckling softly. "I have done no more than what you would have done for me." Why didn't they believe her? Had times outside become so bad that help was available to those in need?
No one made reply to her words and the silence became unbearable. Standing she turned into the woods surrounding them. She did not know where she was going when she saw a familiar figure standing some ten meters ahead of her.
"Theo!" She called, a smile coming to her face. How had she forgotten him so easily? His coat was thick and matted with the dark blood of the orcs. He came to her and placed his muzzle in her palm, as she bent and scratched his ears with the other hand. He leaned into her hand. Without warning she lowered her hand to rub his stomach, his favorite place.
He fell onto his back, one leg twitching. She laughed as she watched his leg. Her eyes came to rest on the small eagle shaped birthmark that marked his status. He was the leader of the wolves, loyal and full of pride, though as playful as a pup when he wanted to be.
She stood and turned back towards home when a strange sound reached her ears. A small band of orcs was coming and was closing in fast.
As quickly and silently she jumped and grabbed the lower branches of the tree above her. She pulled herself up and scrambled into the higher boughs just as the company came within view.
Glorí sat hidden by the branches and entwined leaves. Theo had run as soon as he saw she was safe, barely disappearing in time. She watched as they passed beneath her. A total of twenty creatures.
Some time after the sound of them had died away she moved, releasing the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Quickly she swung down from the bows of the tree to stand on firm ground once more. She thanked the tree for harboring her and turned to find Theo returned.
"They came from the horse pasture." She said, a bit of fear edging her normally silky tone. She set off at a sprint as Theo matched her speed beside her. She didn't know how long it took for them to reach the pasture but she could hardly breath when they finally arrived. She gasped at the sight that greeted her.
One part of the fence had been savagely ripped down, a stretch of about six meters. In side the ring sixteen horses lay dead. She entered through the gap in disbelief, staring around her. The nearest of the dead was the mare that had been in foal, her child standing over her, nudging her with his soft nose making a pitiful sound.
She walked up next to him, taking in the sight of the fallen beast, arrows sticking out from her side. Gently she took the neck of the small trembling foal in her arms and led him away from his mom.
The rest of the horses had sought refuge in the furthest corner of the pasture and would not move until she came to them. Less than ten of the original forty remained; the others dead or with the elves making their way to Imladris.
She sighed inwardly and looked away from the frightened animals huddled together. Theo came to her and offered what small comfort he could. These animals had not been just her property, but also her friends. It was a big loss that tore at her heart.
Why did they dare cross the borders? What are they looking for? She asked herself, anger growing inside of her. But she pushed the feeling down until it dissipated. She had to move the remainder of the animals as soon as possible.
Going around to each she scratched noses and hugged necks in an offer of peace but needed it more herself to settle her and give her strength to hold back the tears that threatened to overtake her.
When she had gone to all the horses she returned to the foal. He was still quite shaken but was thankfully receiving comfort from the other mare that had given foal the previous spring. Thankfully she would not have to care for him on her own; Mikeley would do that for her.
With a final look to Theo she mounted a horse, one that was white and spotted with the black of his forefathers. She turned him towards home and nudged him gently in the ribs; turning to make sure the others followed in suit.
On the way back she contemplated the purpose of the orcs. They had never before dared to penetrate the borders unless they were looking for something of grave importance to themselves or their wretched master.
The more she thought the angrier she became. The thought of the dead horses fed that anger and caused her grip to tighten on the horses' mane. What weren't they telling her? Why did the orcs seek them so?