Chapter Twelve Something Stirs in the Wind
He opened his eyes groggily. Vaguely, he remembered waking amidst horror, pain and fear. Somehow waking now appeared no better as his eyes fell upon a familiar face lying close to his. Frowning confused at first, he attempted to roll over and groaned in the process. Closing his eyes against the strain, Galathil shuddered at the sick feeling that edged up from his stomach. Swallowing hard, Galathil slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and glanced around him. It appeared as though everyone were sleeping, for no one stirred in the stillness of the night. Pale blue from the stars glittered and filled the camp in a dim light, casting everything in shadow. Trees seemed to loom overhead menacingly. Shaking his head, Galathil sat up. Evil had been bestowed upon them.
Pushing himself to his knees, Galathil edged towards Elrond's side, and felt for a pulse. It was there, faint and erratic. The wounds the elf lord held were ones to be desired. Elrond would definitely be feeling pain when he woke. Shaking his head, Galathil heard sword clashes outside the encampment, and he stumbled to his feet, his hand gripping a long sword tightly. Limping to the tree line, Galathil let out a sigh of relief when he heard Thranduil's guards roaring with victory.
He shook his head once again trying to loosen the fog that filled it. Galathil took a battle stance when he heard a roar of orcs fill the air. Growling with rage, Galathil waited for the orcs to come crashing through the tree line, but stood tall when Thranduil and his men walked out of them instead. Wiping his sword, Thranduil nodded at Galathil striding up to him grinning.
"How are the others?" Thranduil asked placing his sword in its scabbard, before gripping Galathil's shoulder.
Shaking his head, Galathil nudged his head in Elrond's direction. "I only checked Elrond. His heart still beats. Where is his son?" Galathil asked glancing at the empty blanket by the fire.
"Erestor carries him." Thranduil stepped to the side to glance at the tree line. "He was taken by a warg, but the beast did not get far." Turning his head to look at Galathil, he grinned.
Horrified, Galathil raised his eyebrows. "Is he hurt?"
Thranduil shook his head. "No more then he was when we found him. He does have a bite mark on his arm, but that should quickly heal with his elven blood."
Glorfindel groaned as he came to. His body ached, and he felt something warm lying on top of him. Cautiously, he moved his arm to touch the warmth and found it to be a body. Cracking open his eye, he saw Celebrían. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Glorfindel shook her shoulder carefully. A moan of protest gave him a bit of relief.
"Milady. Wake." Glorfindel whispered.
Almost instantly, she was wide-awake and glancing around her horrified. "Where is Elladan?"
Shaking his head, he tilted his head back to look up to where they had fallen. "Look." He nodded his head to the upper level. "Fear not, Mithrandir has taken watch over him."
Glorfindel felt Celebrían sigh in relief. Wincing, Glorfindel sat up and put his arm around her as tears welled up in her eyes. "Do not cry. We are safe."
She glared at him. "Safe?" She spread her arms out. "How do you call this safe? My home is destroyed. My son is missing; my other child is injured and may not live. My husband is out there somewhere. The earth shakes with anger at some evil that has presented itself, many have died? Safe?" She shook her head angrily. "Nay, this is not safe, this is horror!" She stood and limped out of the room before Glorfindel could protest.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up to his feet, and followed her out of the room. 'Elrond I do not envy you.' Glorfindel thought to himself. 'To anger your wife is worse then any evil I have stumbled across.'
Thranduil pursed his lips in thought. There were too many injured for them to carry, and Elrohir needed healing herbs. The childs face was pale and pallid. Thranduil knew that the fever had grown and there was nothing he could do. Closing his eyes, the elven king prayed that his guards would return with news on their travels.
Opening his eyes, Thranduil took in the camp. Galathil was seated beside Celanos, who was now lying on his back. The bite at his throat was now covered with a tunic that had been torn to shreds. Blood had stopped pouring out of the wound. Completely unaware, Celanos lay there, but his daughter was nowhere to be found. Thranduil had sent his guards out into the woods to find her, and waited patiently for their return.
Erestor was seated beside Elrohir, continually wiping the childs head with a damp cool cloth to lighten the fever. The bite mark had been carefully cleaned and wrapped. Glancing down towards his feet, Thranduil, took in Elrond's condition and shook his head helplessly. The Mirkwood king hoped his good friend; Siralda would arrive soon to help heal those who were in dire need of it.
Shaking his head, Thranduil stood up and wandered over to Galathil, placing his hand on his shoulder, he nodded his head and pointed to the sleep roll that was beside him. "Take some rest. You will need it before this evil is done."
"Do you know what it is?" Galathil asked reaching over for the bedroll.
"No, but I suspect that someone back in Imladris knows." The king answered looking out into the woods. "Sleep. Tomorrow we head back to Rivendell."
"How will we carry everyone back?" Galathil asked unrolling the blanket and spreading it out beside him.
Looking down at the lessons master, Thranduil grinned. "I will make my guards help." He shrugged.
Smiling, the lessons master lowered himself onto his bedroll and sighed. "I forgot how much I disliked lying on the ground." He grumbled.
"Just be thankful you are not lying beneath a tree." Came the amused reply.
"Very funny."
Celebrían shoved her way through the rubble, up the stairs towards the room where her son was. Mithrandir stood protectively beside him an aura of light around them both. A look of anger passed over the wizards face as he concentrated on whatever foe he saw.
"Mithrandir, who is this foe that threatens us so?" She asked looking up at his unmoving form. Frowning, she received no reply from him, and she sat there watching him as he fought with this unseen evil.
Glorfindel limped into the room and silently watched Celebrían glare at Mithrandir, her hands folded in her lap waiting for a reply. She was stubborn and would wait all day and all night if she had to for an answer. Leaning against what was left of the doorframe, he frowned when a sound from outside filled his senses. Pushing himself away from what used to be a door, he walked to the window and glanced out seeing a small girl racing towards the stairs with tears in her eyes.
Quickly looking at the people in the room, Glorfindel knew that they were safe for the time being and he hopped out of the window to the ground to catch up with the little elfling who raced through the courtyard. He whispered softly, so not to startle the frightened girl. She stopped and whimpered. She caught sight of the blond haired elf and fresh tears fell from her eyes. Instantly she raced towards him and flung herself in his arms.
Taken by surprise, Glorfindel wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. "There, there. Where are your parents?" He whispered into her ear.
"Ada is with Lord Elrond. They are all fighting with monsters." More tears welled up in her eyes and a sob escaped her lips.
"Monsters?" He whispered confused.
She nodded and buried her head on his shoulder.
A shiver ran up his spine. Glorfindel knew something terrible had happened to Elrond and his companions, and not wanting to worry the little elfling in his arms, he allowed for his eyes to wander in the direction she had raced from. He kept his face void of emotion, and carried her towards the remains of the house of Elrond. Whistling through the window, Glorfindel passed the small girl up to Celebrían who stood there surprised.
"I will return shortly." Glorfindel nodded and headed towards the stables that once stood tall and proud, but which sat in shambles now. Quickly kicking away some of the broken pieces of wood, Glorfindel found what he was searching for. There sat a long sword still within its scabbard. Picking it up and strapping it to his back, Glorfindel began his search for his long time friend.
Thranduil sat on what was fast becoming his usual seating place. It was a rather large grey boulder that stood near the base of a great birch tree. Glancing up, he sighed. How he wished he were at home with his wife and child, rather then amongst this horror and devastation. He longed to be next to a fire, set in his hearth within his bedchambers, sitting in his large chair, with a glass of miruvor. Listening to the sounds of his people laughing, dancing and singing. Shaking his head, Thranduil knew he had to wait until he saw his home again. He needed to help his friend out in whatever means he could. If that meant he had to stay in Imladris until the great refuge had been rebuilt then that is what he would do.
Thranduil wished he had answers to the sudden devastation that had befallen the peaceful city. In fact he wished he had answers to the sudden appearance of spiders in his once beautiful woods. Glancing around him, he noticed that Elrohir was suddenly moving his head back and forth. Standing up, he walked over to where the small elfling lay, and knelt down beside him.
"Hey little one. Open your eyes." Thranduil whispered.
The eyelids fluttered slightly, and a small whimper erupted from the childs mouth.
"It's alright. Everyone is safe. Nothing frightening is here." Thranduil whispered again more encouraging.
"Ella." Came the tiny whispered voice. Sighing, the elfling slipped back into a deep slumber.
Closing his eyes, Thranduil took a deep breath and returned to his place on the boulder. He wasn't sure how long he sat there for, but his ears picked up the slightest sound that anyone could have missed. Frowning, he drew his sword and stood up from his uncomfortable seat. Facing the direction in which the sound had come from, Thranduil stood and waited patiently for the foe or ally to make itself known.
To his surprise, the one person he was not expecting was the one who came through the thicket.
"Glorfindel!" Thranduil exclaimed.
The golden haired elf lord nodded and took in the surrounding area. "What happened here?" He muttered, horror reflecting in his deep blue eyes.
"We were attacked." Thranduil sighed.
Glorfindel glanced around the camp and caught sight of the small elfling by the fire. "Elrohir?" He quickly crossed the distance and knelt down beside Elrond's son. He felt the childs neck and found a pulse, faint and erratic. Looking up to the Mirkwood king, Glorfindel raised his eyebrows in question. "Where is Elrond?"
Thranduil pointed to where the elf lord lay under a lean to. "There."
Gasping, Glorfindel shot to his feet and almost ran to the Peredhil. "I want some answers." The former lord of Gondolin snarled, seeing the condition Elrond was in.
Thranduil knew that the lords Glorfindel and Elrond were close. Nodding, he waved the golden haired elf lord to his boulder. Before Thranduil could start, one of his guards came shooting out of the thicket. "Milord!"
Thranduil stood quickly. "What is it?"
"Something evil comes!" The guard lowered his right hand, which was covered in blood. The space where his hand had been was drenched in the elf's blood. Suddenly, the guards eyes rolled into the back of his head and he crumpled to the ground in front of his king.
Horrified, Thranduil knelt and felt for a pulse. His guards fëa had flown to the halls of waiting. Gasping, the king stood and glanced at Glorfindel.
Narrowing his eyes, the Balrog slayer stood at ready, he sword drawn waiting for whatever evil plunged through the forest that surrounded them. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
Thranduil smiled, and nodded, never noticing, Elrond's other companions, Erestor, and Galathil moving in beside them. It wasn't until the king heard a snarl from one of them, that he turned his head slightly and nodded at their presence.
"This seems familiar doesn't it?" Erestor growled.
"They will not over come us this time, advisor. I have a feeling that the outcome of this battle will be held in the highest regards of the Valar. Whatever evil has escaped into these calm woods, shall not hinder us for long."
Nodding, the four elves stood there, battle ready. Waiting for either death or triumph. Swords gleaming, eyes narrowed, and glinting with rage, the four elders stood there with their battle ready experience being their only hope for this last final fight.