Author: Estelrond

Disclaimers and all that good stuff can be found in Chapter one. I appreciate reviews though.

Sorry this chapter is short, but the fanged plotbunnies said so...

This is for you Carol, I know you're waiting...here. pushes chapter

Part Two

You Are Not Who You Seem

Glorfindel was not afraid. He had faced death before and knew what it meant. But this time it tore at his heart that he had not succeeded. Before, with the Balrog, when he had felt the fire-demon's heat all about him, and pain flaring white-hot, tearing; destroying...he had fulfilled his purpose; had gone to his doom with grim satisfaction. Now, he would die; leave the one he had worked to hard to save in the hands of his tormentors, surrendering him to face his fate.

But Glorfindel was not afraid.

His blue eyes stared heartlessly into the murky brown ones of the man who was daring to cut an immortal life short. He waited, unflinching, for the flash of light between this eternity and the next.

It never came.

The arrow streaked by his ear, stirring a lock of golden hair in the wake of its passing but leaving its intended recipient unharmed.

Silence.

For a moment Glorfindel wondered if perhaps the man was just a horrid shot, but reconsidered. At this range and angle, there was a very slim chance of a miss. A miracle perhaps?

Then the man froze, a look of surprise and horrified astonishment painted on his homely features. His bow fell from nerveless fingers as he slumped forward and toppled headfirst from his perch in the tree, to land before the bewildered elf-lord.

Glorfindel knelt cautiously, noticing with stunned amazement that his own dagger was embedded in the man's back. Glancing beyond the tree, from where the killing blade must have been thrown, he was only faintly surprised to see the elf he had sprung from jail standing there, a peaceful expression on his face.

"He was a brute." He remarked tonelessly, meeting the elf-lord's eyes fearlessly, as if challenging him to condemn the deed and the one who had done it. Hard lessons had been learned by this one, and perhaps he had learnt them too well.

A smile tugged at Glorfindel's lips, had the situation not been so grave he would have found the elf amusing. He estimated that the other was at least several thousand years his younger.

But then, it didn't site well with the warrior that he hadn't taken note of the absence of his dagger. The other must have slipped it from his belt sometime during the confrontation.

"How did you do that?" Glorfindel fixed the younger elf with a scrutinizing glare.

The other just shrugged; then with considerable nonchalance, he simply lay down on the forest floor and lost consciousness. Had Glorfindel not known the truth of his companion's condition, he would have just assumed that the other had decided to take an impromptu nap on the ground.

"How do you like that?" mused the elf-lord. He moved forward, and gathering the other up in his strong arms, bore him farther into the forest, putting more distance between him and any likely pursuers.

Something disturbed him greatly about this whole situation. How had this elf come to be here? Why was he not safely away in some elf-haven? His dark hair and proud bearing marked him as a Noldo. He should have been in Rivendell. Yet he was not. This elf was much more than he seemed.

Something in the elf's manner tugged at his memory, something he should remember. It lingered there, just on the edges of conscious thought, but lurked in the shadows, refusing to come to the fore. He knew he would remember, he just hoped he remembered before it was too late.

The elf-lord made slow time with his burden, but when he deemed the amount of distance sufficient enough, he hid the unconscious elf in a clump of brush, leaving his dagger at the other's side in case of attack. Unlikely in this corner of the world, as there had been no signs of pursuit, but as a safeguard.

Glorfindel then doubled back and retrieved his patient young stallion from where he'd been tethered. The horse giving the elf a beleaguered whuffle and butting him with his nose as a reprimand for being to late.

He stroked the horse's neck lovingly, "Are you up to carrying me, mellon?"

The horse snorted, bobbing his head up and down enthusiastically, he was more than ready to leave this place behind. The elf smiled, it seemed that the Elven steed had quick powers of recovery. Mounting up, he rode back into the forest from which he came, the sleepy town still unaware of the events of the rapidly fading night.

When the elf came to retrieve the younger elf from his hiding place, he was still sleeping, a peaceful, undisturbed expression on his ageless features. But one had only to look at his beaten body and disheveled appearance to ruin the illusion.

The dawn was just breaking through the trees, as the elf-lord carried the younger being to where Asfaloth stood. Putting the freed prisoner atop his patient horse, Glorfindel rode off towards Rivendell, the only logical place to take someone in the hapless elf's condition.

The ride that day was blessedly uneventful. Glorfindel's dangerous companion did not awake, and long-suffering Asfaloth was able to keep the pace.

As shadows lengthened to evening, the two elves came to a small slow-flowing stream; a branch of the Bruinen, and Glorfindel decided that this was as good a place to spend the night as any.

It was when he dismounted that his unconscious-up-until-this-point companion began to come to. He struggled violently, evidently unaware of where he was. "No! Leave me be!" He screamed, frantically trying to free himself from the elf-lord's grasp. The blows he was blindly throwing were giving Glorfindel bruises.

"Sidh...sidh, penneth." Murmured the blonde, into the struggling elf's ear. The sound of his native tongue seemed to pacify the young warrior as storm clouds passed from emerald green eyes and comprehension and understanding replaced the trapped fear that a moment before had contorted the angular features.

"Oh, it's only you." He muttered, taking in both Glorfindel and the surrounding area in a dispassionate glance. He said nothing of the frenzied efforts of a moment before. His cool nonchalance after what he'd been through both amazed and irked the Balrog-slayer.

"Yes, it's me." Glorfindel was slightly annoyed; the least this sarcastic young rascal could do was show a little bit of manners in way of thanks. Or at the very very least not act as if Glorfindel was an old, and annoying acquaintance. "We're going to stay here tonight."

"I gathered." The other elf nodded.

If there had been a wall, Glorfindel would have knocked his head against it. "I'll go get some firewood. And you..." he pointed an almost accusatory finger at the bedraggled elf before him, "...are going to take a bath. I've ridden with you long enough to know that you need one."

Pulling a spare leggings and tunic from his pack, he threw them in the other elf's direction and stormed off without waiting for an answer; ignoring the look of hurt innocence directed his way. The other elf's attitude and blatant arrogance just grated on his nerves. Elven tolerance had its limits. He really didn't have any intention of gathering firewood; he just needed to get his thoughts in order.

What had he gotten himself into?