Disclaimer:  Middle Earth and all things and people related to it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I promise to put my toys away when I'm done.

A/N:  One more chapter after this, I think.  Thanks to all my reviewers!

Routs and Returning

It was the twins' battle cries that gave the hunters the last clue they needed for guidance, and it spurred them on to greater speed.  The elven company charged over the rough ground, their mounts seeming to fly in the dim light of the stars and the thin, pale moon.  When Glorfindel finally spotted his quarry, his heart nearly stopped in fear.  The twins stood with blades drawn, staring down a pack of hungry, mangy wolves that circled the rock the elflings used as a defense.  The twins were screaming defiant war cries at their furry stalkers, to very little effect.  Some small, detached, part of Glorfindel's mind was amused as he heard cries that had not been used on a field of battle for an age at the least.    Still, the cries paled in comparison to the deep-throated howls the wolves were giving in return.  The balance suddenly changed as the sharp song of arrows in flight filled the air. 

            "Glorfindel an Imladris!  Imladris, enni!" He shouted with all of the breath in his lungs, and his elves around him took up the call, drowning out both the wolves and the desperate cries of the twins.  The wolves howled in pain and rage as they were wounded and driven away from their prey.  The archers finally slowed and spread out, firing with the precision and grace their kind was known for. 

            The swordsmen then swept forward, a glittering, roaring, fearsome wave of sharp metal and courage.  Using their bright blades and the heavy bodies of their mounts, they formed a living shield around the frightened elflings, further depriving the wolves.  Glorfindel joined the press, reaching out his shield hand to the twins, just to be sure that they were well. 

            "Glorfy!  Glorfy you came!" the twins' voices blended in their haste to greet their champion.  He noted with concern that both were shaking, though if it was from fear or from cold, he could not tell.  Of course, it was probably both, at this point.  They both still gripped their small knives so tightly that their knuckles stood out in stark relief.  He reached out further to hold them both, and they immediately ran to his side, the rock's height allowing them to snuggle close despite the fact that he was still mounted.

            "Hush now, dearhearts.  You're safe.  Here, ride with Tirithon, his horse can bear your combined weight." He ordered.  The scout, hearing his name, kneed his horse close to Glorfindel's side.  The twins instantly protested, not liking this turn of events in the least.

            "No, Glorfy, we want to stay with you, please!" they begged, their dark eyes pleading and desperate.  His heart nearly broke, but he remained resolute.  Ignoring the hurt looks on their tear-stained faces, he placed them securely before Tirithon, who had knotted his reins so he could have his hands free to hold the twins. 

            "Ride fast and get beyond the archers.  Do not come back for anything, understood?" he snapped, his voice quick and low.  Tirithon nodded in grim understanding.  The dark look on his lord's face boded ill for the wolves of Eriador. 

            The twins sobbed openly as Tirithon shouted to his mount, and the four flew away into the night.  Wolves came at them from every side, but even as the foul beasts leapt at their fleeing prey, lightning-fast arrows found their marks, dropping the wolves to the ground, dead.  Suddenly the wolves were gone, and Tirithon raised his voice in greeting as they galloped past the line of archers.  There the scout finally stopped their wild flight, though he kept a firm grip on Elladan and Elrohir.  No matter how the twins squirmed, they could not escape his tight embrace.  So instead they watched in stunned horror as one of the elves they loved best disappeared into a melee of shining steel and dark furry bodies.  Screams and howls rent the night, and more then once they heard Glorfindel shout his rallying cry.  Then, as if by some pre-arranged signal, the last of the wolves broke off their attack and sped away, vanishing into the shadows of the broken grasslands.  The twins were too stunned to cheer.  There were horses and elves on the ground, unmoving.  Where was Glorfindel?  Elladan and Elrohir clung to each other, trying to stifle their sobs as they watched the dimly lit scene, searching for some sign of hope.  Glorfindel would not want them to cry… they should be brave elflings now.  Even so, they could not stop the tears as the minutes slipped by without word. 

            The riders who were not badly wounded carefully gathered up those who were, cradling them gently for the long ride back to Imladris.  None were left behind, and thankfully, none had fled to Mandos.  As the re-mounted company slowly rode past the scout and his precious burden, the twins searched the face of each elf, hunting for what they believed was the only family they had left in this corner of the world. 

            Then he was there, reining in Asfaloth beside them.  Both twins immediately leaned dangerously far out of Tirithon's saddle, reaching for their rescuer.  Glorfindel gladly returned the embrace, holding the twins close. 

            "You are not hurt, either of you?  Oh praise Iluvatar, I have found you." He murmured into their hair.  The three clung to each other tightly as Tirithon watched, a wide smile on his fair face.  Then Elladan reared back and smacked Glorfindel with all of the might of his young fist.  Glorfindel, startled, leaned back, his eyes wide.  Now, this he had not expected.

            "You left us!" Elladan scowled, a black look on his face.  Elrohir, nodded in agreement and folded his arms across his thin chest.  "You are supposed to protect us, and you left us!"  Glorfindel was completely baffled.  What brought this on?  He was fine, the twins were fine, they were all fine… so now the twins decide to throw a fit? 

            "Dearhearts, I had to get you two away from danger, surely you see that?" he asked gently, but the twins were having none of it.  Through that strange means of communication that served to baffle those around them since they were born, they almost simultaneously turned their faces away from him.  Glorfindel sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.  It would be a long ride back to Imladris at this rate.

            The ride was long, and the night was half over before the company came clattering through the archway into the paved courtyard.  Healers poured from the main hall, rushing to tend those who were wounded.  Glorfindel and Tirithon, bearing newly awakened and sleepy-eyed elflings, slowly rode through the press, searching for two elves in particular. 

            "Ada!  Naneth!  Ro, do you see!"  Elladan saw them first, nearly bounding out of Glorfindel's arms in his excitement. 

            "Naneth!  Nanna, I'm here!" Elrohir called gleefully as he caught sight of his mother's bright silver hair.  The twins were set down and the bolted, running straight into the arms of their anxious parents.  Glorfindel smiled, satisfied.  All of his charges, safe and sound once more.  Stiffly he dismounted, handing the reins to the faithful scout.

            "Get inside, Tirithon, you're dismissed.  Better hurry if you want any hot water tonight." He slapped the scout on the shoulder in thanks.  The scout beamed, then lead both horses away to the stables.  Slowly the courtyard emptied, no one wanting to intrude on the gleeful reunion.  Glorfindel watched from the archway to which he had retreated.  Yes, this made it all worthwhile.