Chapter One: Scouts
The characters and places you know don't belong to me, but my characters and plot does. Back off – get your own sandwich.... I mean, story line!
Chelmo twisted his head to the side and stood stark still.
Had he just heard footsteps in the distance?
Slowly he raised his head and sniffed the air... dry leaves underfoot rotting into the forest floor, lembas in his back pack, and the faint but ever-so present stench of orc.
With lightning speed the lone elf drew an arrow from his quiver and notched the string, aiming at the opening into a clearing where the sounds and smells were coming from.
"Manveru? Y ha le mi i lant," he whispered lightly, so that only another elf could hear.
There was no answer.
He called out again, this time a little bit louder.
"Manveru?"
Still no answer.
He opened his mouth to speak once more when he felt the bite of cold steel dig into the small of his back where his armour didn't cover his spine. He froze.
"You are too noisy, Chelmo. I nearly mistook you for an orc."
The blade withdrew and Chelmo sighed, turning to face his mentor, Manveru.
"That wasn't fair – what was that stench from? I thought it was orc, I was sure it was orc," he complained.
Manveru snorted, "it came from an orc, mellen nin."
"Here?"
The older Noldor elf nodded and pointed his blade towards the clearing; Chelmo noted that the blade was still wet with orc's blood.
"There were only two, scouts maybe? I'm not sure, but we'd better report back to the base and get a party ready just in case."
Chelmo lowered his still drawn bow and walked slowly into the clearing where, sure enough, two newly dead orcs lay in pools of their own black blood.
Crouching low he inspected the bodies, scrunching up his nose at the stench.
"Their cloths are rags and have only basic and ancient looking equipment. Maybe scouts, but maybe not. They could be wanderers, or deserters; they defiantly aren't from Mordor, too puny. Mountain filth," Chelmo reasoned, looking at their pitiful, crumpled corpses.
"They look like they couldn't have picked too much of a fight, they're half starved."
Manveru nodded, "most likely a small raiding band or deserters from a larger one."
An incredibly distant howl made both elves look up quickly to the east.
"Wolves! About a half league away," Manveru looked grim. "Chelmo, go now to the base and alert the commanders that we are soon to be attacked."
Chelmo looked in confusion at his mentor, "are you not coming?"
"You are faster, now get going!"
Chelmo didn't wait for another direct order, he jumped up and sprinted faster than one could blink and he was out of sight of Manveru.
Another howl caused a shiver to run down the elf's spine.
Sheathing his blade he grabbed the foul creatures' cold limbs and dragged their carcasses into the centre of the clearing then after checking his supply of arrows, Manveru quickly shimmied up a tall, sturdy tree near him and prepared his bow.
Chelmo didn't stop running at break neck speed until he reached the grey stone walls and iron gate of the outpost.
"Alag! Un glamhoth teli!"
A guardsman poked his head out of the high tower, "man?"
"Orcs! To the west at the far clearing, they have wolves! Manveru killed two scouts in the clearing."
Another head poked out, this one an elf's, "where is Manveru?"
Chelmo raised his hands to shoulder height and spread them out in defeat, "he sent me to fetch a party, he is either following, though I doubt it for I checked and I didn't see nor here him following after."
The elf in the tower frowned, "the old campaigner must have stayed behind to stall them... I'll raise the alarm," he turned to the human beside him, "go tell the commanders, they will be in the fire hall."
Both heads disappeared and Chelmo had to shout loudly before someone thought to let him in through the gates.
Veryo was playing a game of dice with the strange young human that the commanders called 'Ereg', though what his given name was, Veryo did not know.
Why the sons of Elrond held this particular human so closely to their hearts and under their wings, no one really knew. He was one of the few and fallen Numenorean, and seemed to hold rank with the other rangers of the wilds.
It was just as the elf was about to ask the human why he was called Ereg, he heard the faint sound of a runner and laboured breathing.
"Alag! Un glamhoth teli," an exhausted sounding voice shouted from below.
Ereg jumped up and stuck his head out the window, "man?"
Veryo moved to pull the young mortal back in the window before he was killed when the elf below shouted, "Orcs! To the west at the far clearing, they have wolves! Manveru killed two scouts in the clearing."
Veryo felt his heart jump out of his body and flop around on the floor.
"Manveru!" He stuck his head out the window, "where is Manveru?"
The young elf, panting from exertion, shrugged and said he had stayed behind.
This couldn't be good, thought Veryo; Manveru would never just act so quickly on a whim. Thinking quickly, Veryo sent Ereg to alert the sons of Elrond, and then dashed off to the courtyard where the silver alarm bell hung.
Pulling hard on the silken rope, he rang the alarm, noting in his mind that the young apprentice of Manveru was still locked outside the gate.
He let the youngster in then, once he was sure that Chelmo wasn't about to fall off his feet, he ran back to the tower.
Elladan was in the middle of fondling and kissing the beautiful maiden that served him his tea when young Ereg ran into the fire hall.
Quickly slipping his hands out of the elleth's dress and pushing her off his lap, the eldest son of Elrond stood and hailed the distressed-looking human.
"Ereg! What is the matter, it is too early for you to be running from your shadow," Elladan joked loudly. "What is the news that you come running in here from your post with?"
Ereg, a tall, dark haired and grey eyed youth, bowed his head hastily, "Lord Elladan, a sentry came running from the western woods. He says that orcs are heading this way with wolves in tow, captain Manveru is still out in the woods at the clearing where he killed two scouts. He said he was ordered to come and rouse a hunting party."
Elladan nodded and looked over to where his brother was sitting, so entranced by the papers in front of him that he had naught heard a word of the young man's report.
"'Ro, wake up!"
The younger elf looked up, a faintly surprised wideness to his glassy eyes.
"Huh?"
Ereg repeated for the second son of Elrond his message.
"Oh, yes. Call up the troops...ah, I hear that someone has already started the signal bell. Well, go get suited up, folks," Elrohir clapped his hands and the group of elves and men that had gathered in the hall dispersed.
Elladan was beside himself with excitement, "yes! Finally some action!"
Elrohir chortled, "what do you mean, gwanur-nin? It seems that you get the most action of all people around here."
"What!?!? 'Ro," Elladan looked at his brother with mock confusion, "I don't know what you mean! Should I fetch you a surgeon or should we just pack you up in a box and send you to grandmother in Lorien?"
Elladan recieved only a spirited grin as his younger brother, quick as a bunny, drew his gleaming elven sword, spun in it a wide circle and tossed in behind him, catching it in his opposite hand above his head and pointed it at his brother.
"Shall we," Elrohir asked, tucking the unsheathed blade under his arm and offering his hand.
Elladan grinned and took it, "we shall."
Manveru? Y ha le mi i lant? - Manveru? Is it you in the clearing?
Alag! Un glamhoth teli! - Quick! An orchost comes!
man? - what?
Hint: 'Ereg' means thorn... can anyone guess who 'Ereg' is?