Disclaimer: I do not own 'the Lord of the Rings', 'The Silmarillion', or any of the characters associated with either book. Credit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
The clear waters of the open river rippled with a silver layer as Glorfindel's spear drove into its shimmering depth, only to be hauled back up not a second later with his triumphant kill; a large trout, felled immediately by the sudden blow of the sharp edge. The seneschal trudged back over to the shore, adding the large fish to the rest of the small mound.
The two Elf lords continued to hunt long into the afternoon, gathering food that would supply them for several days should they not find anything edible on their journey. Their britches were rolled up just above their knees as they waded around in the crystalline liquid, their shirts completely removed, leaving their bare chests open to the wind, Anor's rays shining down upon their muscular ripples of their forms.
Taking a moment to swipe the collecting sweat from his forehead, and plunge his hands into the cool river water and splash it upon his face, Elrond plowed his way over to his companion, placing his own kill in the growing pile, eyeing it thoughtfully.
"This should last us, for now. Come," The Elf lord said, craning his neck to gaze at the setting sun. "The day grows late, and Mithrandir will wonder over our delay."
"Aye," the seneschal agreed, gathering the corners of the cloth they had lain their game upon, and hauling the makeshift bag over his shoulder. "You are right, I suppose. Best not give him cause to worry."
Gathering their forgotten garments on the ground, the two Elves made their way back to the campsite in companionable silence, redressing along the way. When they finally reached their destination, their eyes caught sight of the small fire the trio had built, as well as the shelter; a small lean- to made of dead logs and foliage with a low roof. Albeit it would be a bit close for comfort, but it was shelter, nonetheless.
Glorfindel lay his burden next to the fire, and Erestor walked over inquiringly, leaning over and pulling back a corner, scanning his eyes over the trout, before glancing back up at the seneschal. "This should last us at least four days."
"Yes," the former warrior nodded. "We know not for how long we will be wandering. We'd best be prepared."
The councillor merely nodded in agreement.
"Have Legolas and lady Galadriel not yet returned?" Elrond asked, noticing that the two of their party had not come back from their excursion.
"Nay," Celeborn replied, his features unintelligible. "This world is new, and we know not what is in store for us."
"They could very well be exploring the terrain," Erestor suggested. "You may be concerning yourself over naught."
"Perhaps," The Maia nodded. "Should they not return in fifteen minutes then we shall go in search for them."
"Agreed," Celeborn sighed.
"For now," The golden haired seneschal proposed, kneeling down to the ground and pulling out his knife as he grabbed one of the fish. "Let us prepare dinner."
()()()()()()()
Legolas jumped from one bough to the other with the grace and stealth that only his people possessed. A Prince of the forest he once was, and though he had yet to meet these new trees, mere saplings compared to his immense years, he could already hear their silent voices of curiosity, for they had never seen one of his kind before, and he was rather amused at their astonished reactions when they realized that he could understand them. He gently caressed the bark that he passed, picking the offered apples from their limbs that he had asked permission to take in his native tongue.
Fruit truly was nature's gift to the beings that inhabited Arda, and the trees truly deserved respect that even the highest kings received, for they were truly the very symbol of life.
Plucking another plump apple from a protruding branch, he placed it in his satchel along with the others. He then swung to another branch as if it were second nature to him, and reached out for more of the sweet fruit when he heard the Lady of the Wood's musical voice call to him.
"Legolas, we ought to return ere we are missed. The sky grows dark, and the stars shall soon be exposed."
The fair Lady had insisted on remaining on the ground and harvest the fruit from the lower boughs, selecting only the reddest and ripe apples for their crop. Legolas could now see her golden head as she walked over to the tree he was now perched in through the bushy green leaves.
"As you wish, my lady," the young Sinda replied as he quickly reached out to pluck one more apple from a dangling limb, but he froze mid-stretch suddenly as something in the distance caught his eye.
His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, before stealthily leaping into the boughs of another tree and clambering up to its highest point. So intent was his curiosity that he did not hear Galadriel's questioning voice.
Ahead in the distance, his eyes narrowed as he regarded a group of Men with great interest. This had been his first glimpse of Man in a very long time, and from the looks of things, they had evolved a great deal.
Their flesh was tanned, and thick dark beards were bared upon their faces. Some wore sheets or hoods over their heads, and others merely had dark crops of hair. Strange objects were swung casually over their shoulders, long tubes with handles on the end, and there were smaller, more facile instruments of the same manner strapped to their sides. They were speaking in an odd tongue, certainly not Westron, nor any language he had ever heard.
For a moment, he considered scaling through the trees after them to further observe their nature, but then he heard the Lady of 'Lorien's voice below him.
"Legolas, what is amiss? What do you see?"
Taking one last glimpse at the wandering Humans, the Prince swung from his branch and leapt to the ground, landing in a crouching position a foot away from the blonde she-Elf.
"'Tis Man, Lady Galadriel. A small party of them on yonder in the distance," he explained as his eyes were again drawn out into the forest. Galadriel followed his line of sight, her features unreadable. There was a short silence before she spoke.
"We must not be seen, penneth," she said plainly. Even without the power of Nenya, the golden Lady was still as perceptive and knowing as ever, and she clearly saw the youthful curiosity in the Prince's blue eyes that always presented itself when he was exceedingly inquisitive about something. "Man has not seen the likes of our race in millennia, and I very much doubt they are aware of our existence. We must take care, for Men fear what they do not understand, and even I cannot predict their reaction should they see us."
"I know this, Lady," he sighed. "Our presence may very well frighten them, and possibly create havoc unto their entire race. Though I wish it were not so, they may be able to help us."
Galadriel nodded lightly, though did not make a response to his musings. Instead she placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Come, let us return to the camp."
"Yes, my Lady."
()()()()()()()
"Did they see you at all?"
The smoke rose from the small fire as the fish sizzled over the makeshift grill, turning a nice red shade as they were flipped to the other side. Glorfindel was quite the masterful cook, and he seemed to take great pride in it.
The small group of Elves now sat around the fire, eating their fill of fried fish and apples, using the inner-side strips of peeled bark as plates, and their knives as utensils.
"Nay, Lord Celeborn," the Woodland Prince swore to the Eldar. "I assure you we were seen by no one."
"How far from our position were they?" Elrond inquired before cutting a slice of apple and popping it into his mouth.
"Less than a day ahead of us, but they were not advancing in our direction."
"Still," The loremaster mused. "I do not much care for the idea of a throng of Men walking in on our camp and discovering us. It could very well be naught but trouble."
"I agree," Gandalf replied. "We will take shifts then, and will alternate during the night," Scanning his eyes over the camp, and seeing that his companions had finished their meal, he continued; "I suggest you all take some rest. I will take first watch."
"When do we leave?" Erestor inquired as he rose from his spot on the ground. He moved to Glorfindel's side to assist him with the salting and wrapping of the leftover fish so they would not go rotten.
"At first light," the Istari simply stated, before planting his staff firmly onto the ground and hauling himself to his feet. He wandered out several feet away from the small camp, and chose a large boulder to seat himself on before fishing in to his robe pocket and retrieving his old pipe.
He lit it and smoked on it absently, letting his mind drift as he overlooked the shoreline. What wonders this new place had to offer, he would soon find out.
()()()()()()()
Erestor's watch broke into the dawn of day, and as the faintest rays of the sun began to appear amidst the horizon, the birds slowly began to stir from their nests and belt out their songs in a harmonious chorus, as other forest life began to emerge from their shelter in search for food.
A small herd of does came within range of their camp, close enough to easily watch, but far enough that they would easily bolt should they be approached.
The hint of a smile quirked at the advisor's lips as he took a moment to abandon the journal he was currently writing in, and studied the animals closely, the first true smile he had shown since the destruction of Valinor.
His stomach clinched at the memory of the island enveloped in flames. It had been horrifying. So many lives lost. Now they were alone, the last of their kind among a world of Men. Would they ever be accepted should they find out about them? Only the future could tell.
He abandoned those painful thoughts and deliberately dipped his quill in the small jar of ink at his side, returning his attention to his journal. So engrossed in his writings was he that he did not sense something amiss until the deer nearby him startled and ran past him in panic. His head shot up and his eyes searched around him. For the first time he noticed that the forest had become silent. No chirping of the birds fluttered over the wind, nor was there the sound of small creatures scurrying about.
He listened more intently now, slowly standing up from his spot on the rock and placing his book and quill aside. A snap of a twig not far off caught his attention immediately, followed by several footfalls.
His silent form quickly dodged over to the sleeping figures under the small lean-to, and he shook the dozing Wizard's shoulder hurriedly. "Mithrandir! Mithrandir, you all must awake, quickly!" he whispered sharply.
His silent pleas were enough to rouse his companions, and Gandalf's eyes flashed open, at once, all traces of sleep gone from his withered face. "What? What is it?" he demanded.
"Hush," the Councillor implored with urgency. "Footsteps come, over thither," he pointed in said direction, and the others could clearly hear them approach.
"What do we do, Gandalf?" Glorfindel murmured as he eyed the shrubs readily, his hand only inches away from the dagger strapped to his side.
The old Maia took a moment to reply, his eyes wide and searching, not in fear, but more out of curiosity. "Gather your belongings as quickly and quietly as you can, take only what is absolutely necessary. Go! Go!"
The Elves were quick to scramble to their feet, grabbing satchels of food and other essential supplies. The footsteps grew closer, much faster now, and the Istar demanded they leave all else behind.
"Into the trees, quickly! Into th--"
A loud crack of thunder interrupted the Wizard's voice, and with a pained yelp, one that none had ever heard escape the ancient Balrog Slayer's mouth before, Glorfindel dropped to his knees with an agonized look on his handsome features, and he clutched at his side desperately.
"Glorfindel!" Elrond cried and bolted over to his companion's side, while the rest of the company halted in their tracks, staring wide eyed at their wounded friend.
Despite his injury, the golden haired veteran attempted to right himself with gritted teeth, but a firm hand on his chest prevented him from doing so. "Nay, be still, mellon-nin," The Healer rebuked softly as his worried eyes stared at the blood soaked hand covering the wounded area. "You are injured."
Galadriel was quickly beside them, swiftly tearing off a long strip from her dress to stem the bleeding. She hurriedly removed the trembling hand and replaced it with the cloth.
"What devilry is this?" Elrond murmured, searching for what could have possibly caused the wound.
He had found his answer, he thought, as several men had suddenly surrounded them, training long metal objects on each of their persons. They dared not move. And they could do nothing, for they were outnumbered, and had no weapons that could possibly compete with the objects these men held.
One of them began snapping orders in a tongue none had ever heard, making gestures with his hands, and while some kept their guns and rifles aimed on the Elves and Wizard, the rest marched arrogantly over to them and stripped them of their weapons, and Gandalf of his staff.
"Gandalf," Legolas murmured quietly. "Gandalf, these were the men I saw, these are the ones I told you about."
"You told us they were not heading in our direction," Erestor whispered sharply.
"They were not!" Legolas snapped back. "They must have altered their direction."
"Perhaps they can be reasoned with," the White Wizard suggested, before taking a bold step forward. "Excuse me, we have seemed—"
Another loud crack went off into the air, and the Istari immediately stepped back to his former position, raising his hands before him in a gesture of peace. They clearly saw what had made the noise this time, and smoke still rose from the round tubes of the long metal rods one of the humans were holding.
The apparent leader began shouting orders again and making pointing motions at several of his men, before Gandalf and the Elves found themselves being shoved into the forest, gun points digging roughly into their backs.
Galadriel yelped as she was yanked harshly to her feet by her flowing hair, and Elrond was roughly grabbed by his arms when he tried to resist them, desperate to stay at his friend's side.
"Glorfindel! No, Glorfindel!"
One of the bearded men aimed his gun on the wounded Elf's chest, finger curled around the trigger, but instead of killing the Elf, his superior stopped him, and motioned another of his soldiers over to him. Muttering words Elrond could not understand, the two Men hauled the warrior to his trembling feet, and he grunted as his wounded side was cruelly jostled. He was practically dragged after them, and with unnerved hearts, they were lead into the unknown, unaware of whatever cruel fate was waiting for them.
()()()()()()()
Penneth: young one
Mellon-nin: my friend
()()()()()()()
(A/N) Don't worry, guys, Glorfindel's not going to die. I wouldn't have brought him along, were I planned on killing him now. Besides, Glorfindel's one of my favourite characters
Again, I apologize for the long wait, but this chapter was long, wasn't it? I made up for my overdue absence. My grandmother was in the hospital for two weeks, and I really haven't had the time to write, being up there and all.
Reviews:
Q ( ): I know, I took forever to get this done, but it's done now.
Yukiryuu21 ( ): Happy you like it! I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations.
DreaminofLorien: Thank you, and don't worry, I will!
LOTRFaith: Well that's great to hear! Yep, that author alerts thing is great. Have I posted soon enough? Probably not, but that's why I made this super long chapter.
Xiad Rusco: Well that's very kind of you, and I thank you. I'm so happy you're enjoying this fic so much. I'm having fun writing it.
Meghan: Yep, on earth now, and have had their first encounter with the evil forces of the Al-Qaeda. So what do you think?