Even before the sun rose, Glorfindel had awakened. His mind was simply too troubled for sleep. The strange situation that they had found last night weighed heavily on his mind as he slightly limped back towards that spot. His sharp eyes studied the ground intently, noting everything he thought would be of use in solving this oddity. As it had been reported before, the new tracks simply stopped and did not continue on. Glorfindel's brow furrowed in puzzlement. How could anybody simply disappear like that without the use of advanced magic?
Glorfindel lowered himself onto his hands and knees to further study the last of the prints before they vanished. At this angle, the Elf found something new. The tracks did not point exactly straight on the path, but very discreetly veered towards the right, towards the tree line. The one they sought had taken care to throw them off track, all right, and it had been done so very carefully. But the determination of the Elves would not be denied.
Glorfindel sprang to his feet as quickly as his healing wound would allow. He glanced back at the camp quickly before bounding in the direction he felt Gilraeth's new captor had taken. Crashing into the trees with reckless abandon, he wildly threw his hands in front of his face to shield it from branches and plants. He wasn't sure exactly where he was going, but he didn't have to worry about that very long.
He halted suddenly as an echoing chorus of snapping twigs sounded in his ears. Glorfindel attempted to peer through the trees in the direction he thought the noise was coming from. Suddenly, he was almost bowled over as someone ran into him from the left. With a cry of surprise, he looked down at the form that now clung to him and instantly recognized the mop of red hair.
"Gilraeth!"
The boy did not move, but held onto Glorfindel as if his life depended on it and shuddered. The Elf did not need any more encouragement and quickly scooped Gilraeth into his arms, hurrying back out of the woods. All the while, the child trembled in his arms. A wave of anger swept over him. Would this pen-neth never find peace in this world?
Glorfindel was met at the camp by Elrond and Elrohir, who quickly ushered them inside their tent. Glorfindel laid the boy onto Elrond's mat and then knelt beside him. Gilraeth was awake, glancing from Elrohir to Elrond and then to Glorfindel with wide, panicked eyes. All brows furrowed in concern as Gilraeth's trembling body made his almost-timid voice quiver.
"G-get back! All of you! Go away!"
A single tear slid down Gilraeth's face.
Glorfindel nearly choked back his own tears at this. "Dear boy, it's us…it's me. Glorfindel. Do you not remember Glorfindel? Elrond? Elrohir?"
The two Peredhels continued to stand, looking on with extreme concern. They all could hear the camp awakening, and the Elves moving around. The sun continued to rise, illuminating the tent more and more by the minute.
Gilraeth seemed to consider Glorfindel's words, for he now looked at all of the Elves with a new expression. And then he sat upright, looked once more at Glorfindel, and again flung himself upon the golden-haired Elf. Relief flooded through him as he held the still-shaking boy in his arms. Elrond and Elrohir sighed.
"Elrohir," Elrond said, "go outside and alert them all that we have found our son."
At the word "son", Elrohir's eyes widened ever so slightly, but as he looked at Glorfindel and Gilraeth, he realized just how important Gilraeth was to him. No, to all of Imladris. Without another word, Elrohir went to obey his father's order.