Headers, author's notes, disclaimers, and translations may be found in chapter 1.
*****
Elrond dragged a hand through his messy hair and sighed wearily. At long last, it seemed that the last of the orcs had been defeated. It had been a large company of them that had moved into the area, which worried him. He made a mental note to upgrade the defenses in these outlying areas and increase patrols. And perhaps also see if he could extend Vilya's protective shield out over the hamlets on the edge of his realm. He watched the grim work of his warriors as they piled orc corpses into great heaps to be burned.
He took stock of the situation. Five dead, and it would be a heartwrenching job to tell their families back in Imladris. There were many more casualties from those who'd lived in the villages. They had fallen before help arrived. The injured were numerous, but fortunately none were gravely serious. They would be well on their way to healing by the time the large war party returned home.
Thinking of the injured reminded him of Glorfindel, and he spared a thought for his second and the child they'd found. He wondered how the warrior had managed with his small charge.
He was not able to answer his own question until several hours later, when the whole party and its wounded and dead had been mobilized back towards Imladris. Elrond brought the column to a halt outside the ransacked house where he'd left his friend.
"My lord?" one of his lieutenants queried.
"Lord Glorfindel was injured during one of the first battles. I left him here along with an orphaned child we discovered hiding in the house," Elrond explained.
"The Captain lives, then?" the lieutenant asked with a smile. "I had feared for him when we marched without him at your right hand."
Elrond grinned, sharing the young elf's relief. He dismounted and hurried into the house.
"Glorfindel?" he called.
"Shhh!" came the admonishment from the common room.
Elrond's eyes adjusted to the dim light after exiting the bright sunshine outside. He couldn't repress a chuckle.
Glorfindel reclined drowsily on the sofa, his golden tresses released from the kerchief he normally wore to keep them restrained under his helm. Said kerchief had clearly been sacrificed to give little Eledril dry smallclothes. The elfling was sprawled out on Glorfindel's broad chest, sleeping soundly.
"See?" Elrond said quietly. "I told you it wouldn't be that bad."
Glorfindel gently stroked the pale child's back. "He wore himself out weeping, poor thing. I think he finally realized that his Naneth and Adar are gone."
Elrond ghosted a gentle hand across Eledril's brow. "He sleeps peacefully, and his dreams are untroubled. I think we can move you both, now."
Elrond quickly splinted Glorfindel's broken leg with the Gondolin warrior's own sheathed sword and dagger.
"That will do until we get home. I'll be able to heal it fully once we are back to the Halls of Healing."
Glorfindel shifted his leg gingerly and nodded his approval.
Elrond called a soldier in to help Glorfindel and saw to the sleeping child, himself.
"We've reserved a spot in the wagons for you," Elrond said to his seneschal.
"Oh, but I'm sure I could ride..."
"Absolutely not," Elrond cut him off. "That beast you call a mount is unharmed and tethered to one of the supply wagons. He'll do just fine without you for the next day or two, and you need to rest that leg, don't forget."
Glorfindel snarled, but allowed the young soldier to help him into a wagon and get his leg properly supported and cushioned for travel.
"Besides," Elrond added, "somebody needs to care for the little one until we get home."
"But...," Glorfindel started as Elrond laid Eledril across his chest.
"He likes you, and probably trusts you, to a certain extent," Elrond said. "And he can't ride either, so you might as well take care of him."
"Oh, very well," Glorfindel grumbled. He looked down at the head of baby-fine, ebony hair pillowed on his chest and couldn't suppress a smile. Children weren't so bad when they were sleeping. Perhaps he could do this, after all.
*****
tbc...