Elrohir found it a grim march through the smoke-dark forest towards Beech Village. Constrained to follow Hannith's command, he chafed at every delay, every pause, more for Rusdir's sake than his own. His spouse had a hard, dead look to his eyes, as if he was already mourning the last of his kin. Unable to bear it, Roh clasped his shoulder briefly.

'It might not be as bad as you think, Rus.'

'No. But it could be. It might even be worse.'

The trees here were thin, witness to depredations of the Battle Under the Trees, and three times dark shadows coasted and swirled above them in the night, causing the group to scatter into the edges of the woods. Once, Rusdir unslung his bow, took aim, and fired upwards. A shriek, and a smaller shadow twisted and writhed, but did not fall.

'Everyone! Hold your fire!' Hannith ordered loudly, coming to Rusdir's side where she spoke as quietly as she could but with authority in her tone. 'Rusdir, I understand, I do, but you are under my command and I gave no order to attack…'

'My family…'

'And are you the only one with family, mellon-nin?' She paused to let this sink in. 'It was well hit, however. Save your arrows, though. Everyone…' She lifted her voice again. 'Hurry now, onwards to Beech Village.'

It was slow going with Arastor in his arms, Canadion admitted to himself. They probably would get on faster were Thiriston carrying the injured elder. But that would mean Thiriston couldn't draw his bow, and although Canadion was considered the better shot, with Thiriston's history of dragons, it wasn't fair to expect him to give up control, to feel himself helpless if there were an attack, even if they weren't that far away from the village.

Well, from the fires around the village.

Besides, Thiriston would probably just drop Arastor in order to reach his weapons, and that would never do.

Anyway, Canadion was more than happy to place his trust in Thiriston's skill.

They had managed about half a mile or so before Thiriston saw the sag of Canadion's shoulders and called a halt.

'Need to make sure that dressing's holding,' he said. 'Master Arastor, you can sit on that tree trunk, I think, and keep the weight off your leg a bit.'

'Maybe you should splint it,' the elder replied. 'Then if I need to put my weight down, I know I will not do too much harm.'

'It will hurt,' Canadion warned him, perching next to him on the fallen trunk. 'We are not healers. Of course, it already probably hurts…'

'Could try something,' Thiriston said with a glance. 'You know, that old thing Glorfindel taught us. The Námo special.'

'Captain,' Arastor protested, 'I am not sure I like you invoking that name at this moment…'

'Just relax.' Thiriston laid his hand on Arastor's shoulder from behind and squeezed gently. There was a sort of a sigh and the elder sagged back, a happy smile on his face. 'There we are, should be able to manage now. Canadion, can you steady him a bit and I'll do the pulling?'

Lying Arastor out along the length of the tree trunk, Canadion bracing his shoulders, Thiriston took hold of the knee and ankle of the elder's damaged leg. With his mouth set in a grim line of concentration, he pulled against the leg and it slid and twisted with strange little sounds until it looked much more aligned. Arastor giggled.

'Tickles,' he said.

'Well, don't you worry about that, it will not tickle for long,' Canadion assured him. 'You just rest there while Thiriston splints you up.'

A stout branch lashed on the outside of Arastor's broken leg provided stability and support and must have been of some help, but Thiriston shook his head.

'Make it harder for you to carry him, but he'll be able to stand a bit if we both have to do any shooting.'

'I am sure it will be better for him this way. But he will be giddy and sleepy for another twenty minutes at least…'

'I know. Gives you chance for a rest, though.'

Canadion sighed.

'I should not need it, but the forest is so heavy with all that is happening it exhausts me with its distress…'

Thiriston nodded and walked a few paces towards the trail. Looking up into the canopy, he sent out an identifier call.

'Hannith might be wondering where we've got to. Triwathon might be in earshot. Could do with some orders…'

After a few minutes there was a distant, faint rising and falling whistle, a pause, a repeat.

'Do you recognise…?'

'I think so, I think that's Celeguel.' Canadion sent out his own signal and the response came from closer. Presently the Captain came through the brush, alone, glancing behind her.

'Well met, mellyn-nin!' she exclaimed. 'Who have you here?'

'Village elder, broken leg, Námo special.' Thiriston shrugged. 'He should be making sense again soon. Well. As much as before.'

'Ai, it has been terrible, has it not? Wait for me, I will be but a moment.' She darted back into the cover and returned a few moments later leading a little cluster of elflings. 'These are my friends, Canadion and Thiriston,' she said. 'Captains, here are Alphel and Harnion and Talvon. Harnion is injured; I promised I would take them to safety.' She glanced over her shoulder back into the forest. 'Commander Triwathon sent me to patrol the outskirts and ensure nobody was left behind, and I found these brave souls trying to get back to their naneths… I have almost completed my circuit but no parents have been seen…'

'We saw no-one else,' Canadion said. 'Well. There are two in the forest, some half mile or so behind us, but from what we know of them, they did not have elflings with them. And now Lord Námo has them in his keeping, the elder's wife and his friend…'

'Ai! It is a sad night…'

'If your friends would like to stay with us, we can see them to safety,' Canadion went on. 'It might be easier for you, do you think?'

'It would, Canadion, if you and Thiriston do not mind… what is more, the… the majority of incidents…' she paused to make sure they gathered her meaning, that she was paraphrasing to protect the little ones before continuing. 'They have taken place around in open spaces, particularly the Heart Glade here at Elm; it is reasonable to assume other Heart Glades are as tempting… my point is, the denser forest, the trails back to the New Palace, will be less risky…'

'Was thinking, no point struggling back to meet up with the Commander, not with Arastor here, if you can pass word what we're doing. Best we head back to the New Palace. Gladly take your youngsters, always glad to help an elfling,' Thiriston said with a smile. 'Come and sit, younglings. Got a flask of water here, if you're thirsty?'

'Thank you,' Celeguel said as Thiriston took charge of the little ones. 'Keep sending out your calls; Commander Triwathon has started evacuating the village – the people are reluctant to leave and he has had to split the company to send guards to take them back… your paths may converge, possibly. There are rumours of other elves in the woods tonight, but it is all vague… I must go, there will be more for me to do I am sure…'

The smoke thickened and stung noses and eyes as the company approached Beech Village. Rusdir shook his head as he took in the devastation even on the furthest outskirts.

Ahead, Hannith sent up an identifier. After a wait that seemed too long, an answer came back, the danger sequence.

'Really?' Roh muttered. 'Danger? Who would have thought…?'

'Quiet, back there!' Hannith signalled again, waved her command forward. 'Slowly, now; keep to cover…'

More signals, hurried, the danger sequence. Ahead, the sky was clear and Hannith dropped to one knee.

'Nock arrows, aim high…'

A flurry of shadows converging, all of a size, wheeling overhead with harsh cries.

'Loose your shots!'

The hiss and rush of arrows flying upwards. In the storm of shafts the shadows writhed. Two lost control of the air, tumbled down to crash separately in the forest; the third fled and a ghost of a cheer went up from ahead.

'Come,' Hannith ordered. 'To the village, and hurry.'

'I don't understand,' Lumormen said, looking upwards where the shadows were circling. 'We killed one, but there are more, not fewer dragons in the sky.'

'My guess is it's an entire brood. Probably pushed out from their habitat before the young have learned to fend for themselves,' Glorfindel said. 'It seems to me that the big one is a parent – probably the dam – and is giving them an emergency lesson in hunting. Sometimes when there's a lot of young, the parent will split the brood into two or three so if one group runs into trouble, the others have a better chance of survival.'

'I see,' Lumormen said. 'But what possible trouble could they run into? Who could harm a dragon?'

'Hadn't you noticed? Us.' Glorfindel narrowed his eyes as he contemplated the shapes overhead. 'And I would guess there's been more than one dragonet killed tonight, and this is all that's left; they've regrouped…'

'All? There are three – no, four small ones and then the parent…'

Arveldir lined up his bow and drew back his arm; the circling dragons were losing altitude now and heading towards their position. He waited, drew in a breath, held it…

…released…

The arrow flew hard and hissing through the sky to land in the belly of one of the juveniles. It convulsed in the sky and made more of a target of itself so that three singing Lothlórien bows shot their arrows home with deadly accuracy and the dragonet fell.

'Three,' Glorfindel remarked. 'We'd better get off the trail a little. I think we annoyed the mother.'

But after circling several times, the dam wheeled away, drawing her remaining three offspring behind her; one seemed awkward in the air, as if injured.

'Excellent. Come on, we'd better get going again. What do you think now, Arveldir? Head towards the villages, still?'

'I am anxious lest too long has passed, now, for us to be much use there.' Arveldir said after considering the matter. 'We should send out our calls, and try to make clear the trails towards the palace for any other refugees, try to fight these dragons if we can draw them near enough. The large one will take more weaponry than we have, I think, but we can certainly attack the young.'

'I don't suppose anyone else here is thinking, poor things?' Glorfindel asked. 'Because if so, well, I know. Hard to kill something that's only trying to survive. But… if we don't get them, they'll get us.'

Closing on the village, Hannith lifted a hand to call another halt, point up and across. 'Did you see?' she asked. 'Far off, but there were five shapes. Now there are four. That has to be good news; other elves are killing dragons tonight and I do not think it was Commander Triwathon's elves, it was the wrong place in the sky. Now. Advance.'

The village was burning. Around the Heart Glade, the undergrowth smoked and sparked, mostly burned out. Overhead, trees crackled and the talain flamed; it was heart-breaking and Elrohir passed through after Hannith with his heart heavy; there was no need to look at his spouse to feel Rusdir's fear and horror of what they might find.

At the far side of the Heart Glade, off down a side trail, they saw the first of the villagers, an elleth beckoning and indicating the edges of the approach. Hannith lifted a hand.

'Under cover, head across. Do not stray into clear space.' She scanned the area and sighed. 'And try not to look.'

Roh wondered what she meant, but instead took charge of his spouse, doing all he could to shield Rusdir's view until they joined up with the village elleth who almost pulled Hannith after her, speaking softly and furiously.

'We are so helpless, it is not fair, but… oh, Captain… come, we are with the children near the water tanks, so that we could put them in if we had to… so we dared not use the water to fight the fires… I am sure it was the right thing, but…'

'Yes; you can always rebuild, but lives lost are terrible. How many?'

The elleth shook her head. 'Several, for certain. I saw…. Oh, Captain! Is that Captain Rusdir? Rusdir, do you remember me, do you recall Edemes?'

'Yes, it's me.' Rusdir came forward. 'Mistress Edemes, of course. I… you must know… My family…?'

Edemes nodded emphatically.

'Maludor and Calemirdor are here, safe. They have had a little scare, well, have not we all…? Dolon, will take Captain Rusdir to the elflings.' There was something about the attempted gentleness of tone that alerted Elrohir that all might not be well. 'And I am glad you are here for them, for… for their mother… we…' She lowered her voice to a whisper. 'We remember Rhoscthel…'

'What? No, it cannot… you must be…'

'I am sorry. We are all sorry. She was not the only one, nor the only mother…'

Elrohir came forward, touched Rusdir lightly on the shoulder.

'Do not, Roh!' Rusdir said, flinching away. 'Do not tell me I have to be strong for her sons, I know I have to, but I want to know how…'

'I was only going to say, shall I take charge of them for a few minutes while you hear the full story? I… Rus, my sister's going to die one day, forever, and my mother sailed, I have a bit of an idea how this hurts… I am sorry,' he said. 'I remember Rhoscthel. How welcoming she was of me, a Noldo, a peredhel, how she saw that I loved you. How she honoured us both for that.'

Rusdir took a breath and stiffened his shoulders, reminding Elrohir of his husband's former service in the guard; the military bearing helped him keep control.

'Thank you, Elrohir. You are right, the how will keep. Yes, of course the boys will remember you. Master Dolon, my husband Elrohir will go to my nephews with you… Ai, Edemes…! We arrived yesterday at the New Palace and allowed ourselves to be talked into staying for the night… if we had not…'

'Then you might have died also,' Edemes said. 'Dolon, take Master Elrohir to the younglings now.'

A cluster of half a dozen elflings of various ages, sizes, and states of grime and minor injury were huddled together under the care of several adults. Two elves with nocked arrows watched the skies, the third wiped faces and whispered kind words. As Elrohir approached, two of the elflings jumped up only to be hushed and quietened.

'Uncle Roh, uncle Roh, but it is him! Where is Uncle Rus?'

Roh dropped to his knees and opened his arms to allow both elflings to approach.

'Come for a hug, younglings! Your uncle is talking to Mistress Edemes. He won't be long.'

'Is it about the firebirds?' Maludor asked.

'Yes, we thought they were pretty, but they did bad things to our house…' Calemirdor put in.

'And went away again.'

'With Nana.'

'It was scary. When will she be back?'

Elrohir shook his head.

'Well, I do not know, I have only just got here, but…'

'The others say she will not be long. And that there are other naneths and adas gone to see the firebirds, so… can you tell her to hurry?'

'I don't know your signals, you know I am just a silly Noldo uncle, I am not a clever Silvan… I don't know how to call her…'

One of the adults interrupted.

'We do not know when the nanas and adas are coming back, but we know they love all their elflings very much and will hurry after us as fast as they can… we just…' she paused and her voice became more adult in tone. 'We are not certain where we should go or what to do about the village.'

'Captain Hannith has orders from Commander Triwathon,' Elrohir said. 'Not to sound threatening, but other villagers have resisted the Commander's orders to leave, even with armed escort, and Hannith is told to enforce his commands however she must.'

'I can understand… we fought hard for permission to live here, we built our own homes and… but there is nothing here we can save, except each other. Yet it is home.'

Edemes came through the undergrowth.

'Well said,' she agreed with a nod. And that is what we are going to do, leave the village. Captain Hannith and her troop will escort us to the New Palace with the elflings. Any who refuse to come…' She sighed. 'I do not know, there are some arguing that once the elflings are safe, they can use the water to fight the fires, but the captain is arguing it is not safe…'

Roh hugged his honour-nephews.

'I am just going to talk to the captain over there,' he said. 'Stay and be good, just for a little.'

When he and Edemes rejoined the villagers, the argument was in full spate.

'You've seen what the dragons can do,' Hannith was saying. 'I don't know if you also know that people are fighting them, there are fewer, they can be killed. My orders are to get you to the New Palace.'

'But our homes…'

'I know. Do you want to add to the list of dead? There are warriors and rescue teams in the woods already, let them work.'

'Take the elflings and those who are injured, let us fight for our homes…'

'If you come willingly, I can leave some of my troop here to fight the fires. If you are not willing, then you will be bound and brought and the elves who could have stayed to save your village will be too busy carrying you to fight the flames!' Hannith ended with an almost shout. 'And every moment you waste arguing is a moment when we could be moving!'

'Edemes, what do you think?' someone asked.

'I am the only elder left amongst you,' she said. 'And I do not say this lightly. But yes, we will leave, we will bring our elflings, and ourselves, to safety.'

'But we need to wait for…'

'Are there any amongst you who are not injured?' she asked. 'Who feel strong enough to fight fires?'

Two or three came forward, hesitantly; it seemed that when it came to it, the idea of leaving the group was less appealing.

'Captain Hannith, if you will leave some of your company here in case any of our missing people return, and to try to save our trees, we will be grateful. These brave individuals will stay and try to fight the fires from the stored water. But they will not get in your way, and they will follow orders of whomever you leave in charge. The rest of us will go with you and follow your instructions to the letter.' She lifted her chin and stared down the protesters. 'And if anyone tries to argue, I will shoot them myself.'

'So, Alphel, I do not have enough hands free, I am afraid, for I have to help Master Elder Arastor who was very brave and who has a sore leg. But here is my belt, and you can hold on to the loose end, there, and we will not get separated. Is that good?'

Alphel nodded. 'Lost is not good, but when there are dragons, it is worse.'

'Yes, indeed. But my husband and I have met dragons before, and you see, we are still here to tell the tale. Do not you worry. Harnion, is your leg hurting?'

The elfling nodded.

'Well, I think I can give you a pickaback, if you want,' Canadion said. 'But I will need to rearrange my bow and quiver so I can get to them… there, I think that will do. Thiriston, if you can help Master Elder Arastor and little Talvon…'

'Can manage that, I think.' Thiriston unslung his own bow and moved his quiver to his hip. 'Well, penneth, climb on. Carry you for a bit, then it'll be Alphel's turn, all right? Good. Elder Arastor? Do you think you can get up now, a bit? Lean on me, that's it, mind the elfling… if you can keep your foot lifted, just hop… there, that'll do… slow and steady…'

It was indeed slow and steady, but they were moving, at least. Knowing that Triwathon was not far away, that there were other elves in the wood armed and prepared to fight was some comfort, too. Even so, it felt that there was a long way to go and Canadion had a feeling the elflings would struggle, even with Thiriston and himself carrying. But for now, the trees were thick overhead and at least they were headed in the right direction – away from trouble and towards the sanctuary of the Old Palace.