A/N: I'm not Tolkien, nor do I own his things (though I may desperately wish otherwise). Characters you don't know are most likely mine.

Chapter 2

The morning dawned grey and chill, but Elrond and Glorfindel were busy in the stable saddling their horses and three others, as well as tying small leather bags onto the saddles. Glorfindel paused in his efforts, and smiled over the horse's back at his friend. "This is a good morning for riding," he said. "The children will be delighted." He glanced around. "Yet I do not see them. You did remember to tell them, did you not?"

"Of course," Elrond said. "Yet if they are not here soon we should go and fetch them."

"How are you sleeping?" Glorfindel tried to make his voice light, but the weightiness in his eyes told Elrond his question held serious levity.

Elrond sighed. "Better," he admitted. "The dreams are still the same, yet now I do not fear to face them, and still there is an element I am not seeing-"

"Are we ready? Are we ready?" Elladan's voice chirped from behind them. The two Elf-Lords turned to see the three children nearly falling over themselves to get to their horses. All three were in their riding clothes and all three had their little child-size bows and quivers on their backs, and they had eyes unusually bright for the early hour at which they found themselves awake.

Glorfindel and Elrond each had their own weapons, of course; both had their own swords, but each was cleverly concealed under the blankets over the horse. Though Middle-Earth in this realm was safe, they would be traveling to the outskirts of Imladris for this picnic. It would take most of the morning to ride, reason enough for the boys to get out of bed so early.

Estel yawned as Glorfindel helped him onto the large horse the child already deemed as 'his'. Elrond lifted Elladan then Elrohir onto their horses before mounting his own, and watching Glorfindel as he did the same, they urged their horses from their stalls into the forest.

They rode for nearly four hours before reaching their destination; a quiet, peaceful valley bordered on one side by a shallow river and on the other a forest. It was one of the favorite places of the boys, though they did not often visit here; they set out to play with their bows and arrows while Elrond and Glorfindel went about readying their blankets and baskets of food. The boys, to their credit, came immediately when called, and quickly finished off the lunch prepared as well as a good part of Glorfindel's and Elrond's.

Estel lifted his head from his food for a moment, cocking his head to one side. Though the boy was mortal, his senses had become nearly as adept as those of his foster-brothers, and when he stopped chewing to listen, Elrond and Glorfindel frowned, exchanging glances.

"What is it, Estel?" Glorfindel prodded gently.

"I hear something," he said simply, then continued to chew.

"What did you hear?" Even Elladan and Elrohir raised their heads at their father's question.

"Crashing," Estel said with a shrug. "Probably just a deer or something."

"We should go catch it!" Elladan nearly shrieked, jumping up from his food. Elrohir was immediately behind him and Estel followed as quickly as his little legs could. The boys ran, bows and arrows in hand, into to woods.

Just then, the Elf-Lords heard what Estel had heard. It was, indeed, a crashing, but with it were growls, and a scream and a low-pitched roar. No words were needed; both were on their feet and as soon as they had their weapons in their hands, they ran after the children. They had not gone far into the cover of the trees before a great screeching filled their ears, and a shadow deeper than that of the trees covered their steps for a moment. As they looked up, they saw shimmering red and gold pass over their heads and felt a wave of heat.

"Dragon," Glorfindel muttered in disgust. Before they could go further, three terrified children ran screaming down the path toward them.

"Wolves!" they wailed, clutching the legs of the two adults.

Indeed, the growling was coming closer. "We tried to shoot them but they wouldn't die," Elrohir whispered from behind Glorfindel. "We were going to help her-"

"Wargs," Elrond hissed. "Go, children. Mount your horses and ride across the river. Go to the high grounds and wait for us there."

"But-"began Estel.

"No buts," Glorfindel said. "Go, now!"

"Don't forget her!" Elladan called behind him as they ran.

The Wargs broke through the low shrubbery with no thought of stopping. They were met with battle cries and elvish swords, and forgoing their mission to obtain their dinner by way of three small children, they concentrated on the bigger, older Elves. One by one the Wargs were felled, and yet still they came. It seemed the entire pack was there, and from the corner of his eye Elrond caught sight of one running back into the brush to the left of him; in his mouth was something white and red, but the vision passed so quickly even Elrond's elf eyes could not decipher what it was.

"Go!" Glorfindel called, having seen it as well.

Elrond nodded and sprinted off into the brush in pursuit. It was a hard chase but slowly he was closing the distance between him and the Warg. After a few minutes he heard another set of feet behind him, knowing without looking back that it was Glorfindel. He was older than Elrond by several hundred years, yet had only minimally more experience in battle than did his older friend. They had fought together often, and Glorfindel's speed was one of his greatest allies.

Glorfindel overtook the Warg first, slashing at his back leg. With a pained growl the Warg crashed head over heals but rounded again, his prize still in his mouth. Both elves circled the beast and planned their coordinated attack without words.

They sprung, and the Warg dropped the object from its mouth and turned to fight. The battle did not last long, however, and though both Elrond and Glorfindel were cut by its massive claws they were not bitten. The bite of a Warg often meant death, for the saliva coating the teeth was poison.

They turned to the object lying in the grass. It was the thing that was concerning Elladan, probably why they had shot at the Wargs first and ran later. It was a woman, not of Elf kind, yet having the fair coloring of that race. Her hair was long and nearly white, and her skin was pale and soft; yet over her entire body were bruises and cuts and abrasions and blood. The teeth of the Warg had not penetrated her flesh as she was carried, yet it seemed still she had undergone some tragic happening at the hands of perhaps another fell beast.

Glorfindel threw his cloak over her to cover her nakedness. "She is under a spell," Elrond whispered, passing his hands over her open but blank eyes. "The dragon, most likely."

Elrond was unusually pale; Glorfindel frowned. "You are alright, my friend?" he inquired in concern.

"She is the one in my dreams."

Glorfindel swept her up into his arms. "Go," he said. "Find the children and send Asfolath back for me. I will meet you both in Imladris."

Elrond nodded and took off in a run, leaving Glorfindel and the woman. Glorfindel walked quickly for nearly a half hour before he saw in the distance his horse galloping toward them. "Asfolath!" he cried, shifting the unconscious woman in his arms and waving. He was rewarded with an answering neigh, and moments later he and the woman were on Asfolath's back galloping again toward Imladris.

As they rode, the woman opened her eyes. When she looked upon Glorfindel, her eyes widened, but she spoke no word, only tried to raise her arms to push herself away from him. Glorfindel tightened his arm around her and spoke gently. "I will not harm you, my Lady," he said, glancing down. "You shall come to no more harm."

The woman paused her fighting.

"What are you called, my Lady?" he continued.

She did not answer.

"Do you have a name?"

Frowning, she seemed to think hard on this, then after a moment, her face clouded and she shook her head.

"Then I shall give you a name," Glorfindel said with a small smile. If she lived long enough to hear it, he thought soberly. "Would you like that?"

The woman tried to smile.

"I shall call you Míriel," he said. "It means jewel-light in my tongue. You may call me Glorfindel."

The woman sighed, seeming content with this, and rested her head again against Glorfindel's chest.

At a full gallop Asfolath took them to Imladris in less than two hours. There Elrond was waiting for him, and, lifting her from Asfolath, whisked her away into one of the many rooms in the Last Homely House. Glorfindel sighed, and rested his face against Asfolath's mane. "Well done, my friend," he said, absently stroking the side of the horse's neck. With a sigh he dismounted, noticing that blood was staining the front of his shirt. My own mingled with that of the woman, he thought to himself.

He heard the patter of little feet, and turning found Estel and the twins skittering to a stop behind him. "Hello, little ones," he said with a forced smile.

"Father told us to tend to your wounds," Elrohir said.

"Did he now?" Glorfindel said, amused. He knew full well the children did not know how to treat any kind of wound.

"Yes," Estel said, marching forward first and taking Glorfindel's hand. "He said you fought real brave, and you should be taken care of immediately."

Glorfindel laughed, and shook his head. "Yet your father fought more valiantly than I," he said. "But if he said you are to tend to my wounds, then I shall allow it."

The boys nearly dragged Glorfindel to his room, where they had already set up an infirmary of sorts. He allowed the boys to remove his shirt and boots and sit him on a hard chair before a mirror. Their small, ticklish fingers rinsed off his wounds with something that smelled very good, very relaxing. Probably something they were given by Elrond, he thought wryly. He set them up well. Every once in a while their fingers would poke a little too deeply in his wounds and he would tighten and try to stifle his pained grunt. Every time, however, the three pairs of eyes that missed little would sweep up to meet his own and they would proceed more carefully. After nearly a half hour he was finally deemed "better", and wrapped in messy strips of white cloth, was allowed to put on a clean shirt and pants.

"You have to rest now," Elladan said, crossing his arms over his puffed-out little chest. Elrohir and Estel stood slightly behind him, one boy on either side, and nodded solemnly like good lieutenants.

Glorfindel sighed. "I wish to check on the woman, children," he said, trying to be patient. "Then I will come back for rest."

The three huddled together and discussed this, and then they turned to him. "Agreed," Elrohir said.

"But you can't stay too long," Estel put in as Glorfindel was leaving. Glorfindel did not turn but raised his hand over his shoulder in acknowledgement as he hurried down the hall. He knew instinctively that Elrond would have put her in the guest room at the end of the hall, across from the bathing room and his own chambers; it was closest to his own care and the room was open to the west so the cooler north and east wind would not complicate her healing.

As he suspected she was there; Elrond had cleaned all her wounds and bound the worst ones before somehow managing to get her into a white silken sleeping-gown. He did not look up as Glorfindel entered.

"She's sleeping," Elrond whispered, standing by the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His grey eyes flicked to meet the blond elf's blue ones, and then closed.

"Will she survive?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes," he said. "She will not speak, however."

Glorfindel shook his head. "She would not speak for me, either," he said. "She did not know even her own name, so I told her I would call her Míriel. She seemed to like it. She smiled at me, anyway."

The corners of Elrond's mouth turned up slightly, and he looked at his friend. "Then Míriel she shall be called, until at least she recalls her own-if she even knew it. Of course, that could be the dragon's doing."

"But why did the dragon not kill her? Why did the Wargs not kill her?" Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. "She is a woman-not an Elf-maiden, not a Dwarf-queen.the Lord of Rohan has no daughters, and the Steward of Gondor has only daughters-in-law. If one of them were missing we would have heard of it before now."

Elrond pursed his lips, and nodded. "You speak true," he said quietly. "Then she shall remain here, and learn all that she wishes until she either recalls what has been forgotten or chooses to leave Imladris. We shall leave the decision up to her."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement, and raised his loosely-clenched fist to his mouth in though. "Elrond, tell me," he said after a moment. "Your dreams foretold this, did they not?"

"Though I did not know it at the time," he responded, "I believe they did."

"And did they tell you how this would end?"

"No."

"Perhaps you will dream again."

"Perhaps."