Idrial's Quest

By Lady Annalease

Chapter One - Eregion:

I knew there was an Elven outpost near at hand; it would have what we needed in the way of equipment and healing supplies. I also knew that there was danger between here and there, roving bands of Orcs, mostly.

"Stay close to me," I ordered my companion, "you are not yet fully healed and would not last long in a skirmish."

We found his shield, lying in the grass where it had been thrown when his mount fled.

He secured it easily to his arm, obviously a veteran of its handling. It seemed he was already recovering some strength.

It was not long before we ran into our first battle. A lone orc, pathetic pray really, but with my companion still recovering from his wounds and myself weary from magic, the beast almost seemed formidable.

The Man proved himself hale enough to help though, and between us we defeated the creature. I was the only one to take a wound, as I took a strike for him, fearing another wound would overcome him in his already weakened state.

We kept walking and met more Orcs. I instantly gave up my foolish idea of not allowing a single blow to touch him - I was taking enough hits actually aimed at me to be taking his hits as well, and he proved sound enough to take minor blows.

We came through the battles weary, but alive.

He suddenly began talking to me. "I heard a voice…on the road," he said.

Fear griped me again. My Lady had caught up with me moments before I had left the city and warned me of a few of the things I was likely to encounter, other than enemies. This was one of them. It had been the voice of the Witch King calling to him, but he had not followed, and that was a good sign at least.

I could not let him see how much his news worried me.

"I know," I replied aloofly, hopefully ending the conversation.

It seemed, rather, to annoy him.

"But-," he began

"Patience," I interrupted, cutting him off - I had sensed danger…and the topic of conversation was not much to my liking either.

He surprised me by planting himself in front of me, hindering my passage. "I am looking for Boromir of Gondor, have you seen him?" he demanded.

"No," I answered true. "But I do see Orcs ahead."

There were three Orcs in this group, even an archer - the beasts were almost becoming a challenge. Feeling somewhat recovered, I called minor water spirits to help in the battle, dousing the fumbling Orcs with torrents of water.

My companion was impressed and his annoyance turned to some sort of awe.

I was not entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He smiled at me.

I grinned back before I realised what I was doing and schooled myself once more.

We could soon see the outpost in the distance and we ran toward it gratefully. We were certainly somewhat recovered, but only the outpost's provisions and some rest could see us back to full strength.

The Man was impressed with the way-station. He was even in such a good mood as to tease:

"The Elves are very resourceful," he commented.

I turned away, hoping to hide my flush; it had been a long time since I had been flirted with. I retreated into my Elven aloofness and spewed some drivel about how long Elves had kept the way stations and such.

"I am Berethor, Captain of the Citadel Guard," he finally introduced himself, though I already knew his name, of course, and a great deal more. Luckily, I remembered in time that I was not supposed to have met him before.

"I am Idrial," I replied, "I serve the Lady of Light." There was no harm in telling him that, at least.

We found a good deal of what we needed and even some equipment that fit Berethor, to replace what had been damaged of his. What was most welcome, of course, was the rest.

I sealed up the outpost, using the magics that had been designed so lone or small parties of Elves could rest in safety without setting a sentry. I set out pallets for both of us.

Berethor was asleep as soon as he lay down, though he still clutched his sword tightly to his breast.

I lay down myself and was surprised to find how weary I was. I slipped easily into Elven reverie.

I was also the first to wake, of course, and checking the sun I found we had slept less than two hours. We could not rest any longer though.

I woke him. "We must continue," I murmured, "the caravan that I was guarding camped not far from here. If we hurry, we may catch them and they can lend us aid and more security for a better rest."

He nodded.

The moment we stepped outside, I knew something was amiss. Crebain spies suddenly swooped overhead, screeching, and the sound of Elven screams met my ears. "The caravan is in danger!" I cried. "Come, we must help them!"

"The crows seem guided by some fell purpose," Berethor commented. He obviously knew not what Crebain were.

"The White Wizard guides them," I explained. "He has betrayed us." It was safe enough to tell him that, it would be common knowledge soon enough.

We ran toward the sound of cries and clashing steel.

The caravan guards were in serious trouble, though there were few orcs, they had obviously ambushed the caravan and gained the upper-hand in surprise. The guards looked at Berethor and myself like we were gifts from the Valar as we charged in and helped them slay the menace.

"They will bother you no longer," Berethor spoke to the female guard as we felled the last Orc.

I do not know why it should have bothered me so when she nodded her thanks and smiled prettily.

She turned to me."You have found him," she murmured.

Of course I had told them of my quest, or the beginning of it anyway, so they knew that I would not be staying with them.

"What do you mean by that?" Berethor asked. I flashed a glare at the guard.

"It is nothing," I replied, a touch too glibly.

"I thank you for you assistance," the guard continued smoothly, "but I must beg you now to return to the passes. We saw a great number of enemies there; they cannot be allowed to remain to impede further caravans."

I nodded.

Berethor looked like he might protest, for I knew he would rather head for Imladris and Boromir, but he did not.

"The way is clear to Imladris," I spoke to the guard once more. "Go there, they will provide you with protection for the rest of your journey."

The guard nodded.

The caravan spared us what was left of their supplies, as they could restock at Rivendell, and one of the ladies also spared me a fauld, which I had not worn as a simple caravan guard, and a better sword for Berethor, as his had been near destroyed. I protested, but she smiled and reminded them that she would not have been using them for very much longer anyway.

It would have been nice to get some more rest, however the caravan was anxious to move on and we would lose time staying with them.

"Come Gondorian," I finally spoke, heading off toward the Pass, "we have work to do."

Before we even reached the Pass, we ran into Dunland warrior bands, three or four men in each. It made me wonder what Dunland warriors had done to merit being sent to rout scared groups of escaping Elves. They could not possibly believe the pickings were better, as the pilgrims carried little in the way of material possessions.

The wind began to roar and snow began to fall as we climbed the steep incline up into the Pass. The cold did not bother me, being an Elf, but I occasionally caught Berethor chafing his arms to ward off the weather. The tattered cloak he wore would do little enough.

I wished I had thought to bring a cloak of my own, if only so I could give it to him. However, I had known I needed to travel light and a cloak had been the least of things I had thought to bring.

I made it a point to walk closer to him and directly in front of him, hoping my body-heat would at least help to ward off the chill a little and my form block some of the biting wind.

We made another camp in the shadow of a hastily built bridge - probably wrought by the Orcs. It afforded a little protection at least. We could have used a fire, or Berethor could have at least, but there was little enough to burn.

The Man wrapped himself in his threadbare cloak, lay down and tried to sleep while I kept watch, but I could see he was still shivering, despite our being out of the direct wind and snow. I doubted anything would attack us this night, and I knew I would hear it before it became a danger, even if I slept.

I lowered myself next to him, close enough that my knee touched his back through the blanket.

He sat up and looked at me warily.

"Do you trust me?" I asked. "I can help keep you warm."

He flushed and looked down, I flushed too when I realised what he thought I meant.

"Not like that," I muttered. "My body-temperature is higher than yours. If you would allow me to share your cloak…."

He gave a curt nod, still not meeting my eyes.

Before he could change his mind, I lifted the edge of the cloak and slid down next to him, pressing my back against his. He lay rigid for a moment, but the instant my higher body temperature reached him though his armour, he gave up propriety and relaxed.

It made me smile to myself.

"Thankyou," he murmured grudgingly. He fell asleep with his head pillowed on his arm, his breathing soft and regular in my ears.

It has been said that my curiosity is likely to send me to an early grave, and such as that is, I could not help myself when I turned over and regarded him over his shoulder. I had seen him before, of course, in the Golden Wood, when he was unconscious, but this was different.

He was handsome enough for a Man, though he held nothing to the beauty of most ellon. His copper hair, cut short around his neck, was alien, most Elves did not cut their hair so ruthlessly, though I realised there must be some benefit to not having to tie it back for combat, and it brought out his face prettily.

What intrigued me most, though, was the stubble that lined his cheeks and chin. Elves have no body hair, except what grows on top of our heads, and though I had seen Men before, I had not been this close to one, not close enough to….

Without thinking about it, and if I had I would have stopped myself, I pulled off my glove and lightly ran my fingers across his chin. I smothered a giggle behind my palm - it tickled!

Berethor stirred and, for a moment, I thought that I had been caught, but he settled quickly again into sleep.

This time I ran my entire palm over his cheek, the stubble rasped pleasantly against my hand. I had a fleeting and wicked wonder about what it would feel like against the tip of my ear, or my belly or my own cheek…how it would feel if we kissed.

I could not believe my thoughts! I chased them from my mind and turned back over, settling down with my back to his again.

I slipped into dreams of copper-haired men with soft lips and rounded ears.

That was the first night we shared a bed….

We stared out early in the morning, though I could tell the Man was not eager to leave the warmth of our campsite. When we reached the top of the incline, we came upon another Man lying in the snow and I could hear the snarls of the advancing Wargs.

I pulled us to cover behind a bolder. I knew something was afoot when I realised the Man was alive…and a Ranger. I warned Berethor to wait, but the hot-blooded fool charged forward.

The Ranger leapt up and slashed at the Wargs, downing them easily.

"You live!" Berethor exclaimed.

The Ranger looked him over. "No thanks to you," he growled. "Can you not see I was hunting them?"

I stepped out from behind our cover.

"Dúneadan," I addressed him.

His eyes widened. He realised he had dismissed Berethor as a fool far too quickly; a Man travelling with an Elf was a different game entirely.

"My lady," he greeted me, looking me over. "I did not see you." His lips quirked up as an idea came to him. "As you obviously meant to help me, so perhaps you may. I-."

I suddenly heard the sounds of more approaching Wargs. I swung my blade up.

"Perhaps we should finish off the rest of the pack first," I suggested.

The Ranger was an impressive archer. He reminded me of my brother, Aronel, and I gave a moment to self-pity - I had always wished I was able to handle a bow as well as he was. My own talents had always tended toward the magics, however, and I was also a fairly sharp hand with my sword.

Our new companion, who revealed his name was Elegost, and little more, decided to join us, if only to hunt down the rest of the Warg pack for the moment.

Berethor asked what he was about and he agreed to tell us, but he first wanted to reach a healing altar.

I had to agree with him there, we could all use a rest and the healing of our wounds.

The snow stopped as we descended from the Pass; I had not minded it, for I had seen snow little enough even in my long years, though its cease made footing easier. I was glad for my companions, however, and most for Berethor, since he had finally ceased shivering.

I was slightly disappointed that the stoppage of the snow had also stopped the need for our heightened proximity - I would not admit it to anyone, but I had verily enjoyed that aspect.

We soon came across a recently used campsite.

My companions and I looked over the dregs and our Ranger read the footprints - three men, an Elf, a Dwarf and four Hobbits.

I knew that combination by heart. "The Fellowship," I murmured.

The Ranger nodded, knowing what I spoke of, for all the Dúnedain had been briefed on the current happenings in the wider-world, but Berethor looked at me for clarification.

"Boromir passed this way," I elaborated, "in the company of friends. They camped here."

"They left in a hurry," Elegost supplied. "Something may have been amiss."

We soon came upon a ruined Elven outpost, guarded by Orcs. I knew what the place had been - it had once housed a sacred elemental altar, abandoned because we were no longer able to protect it. I wondered if any of the Elfstones still lay within, it would surely be a boon to us if they did.

We easily slew the Orcs guarding the altar.

The Ranger went about kicking them and shoving his sword through them as if he had something to prove.

"What provokes you so?" I asked.

"You want to make sure they are good and dead, some of them are mighty hard to kill," he murmured.

Berethor and I looked at him askance.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"How do I know I can trust him?" the Dúneadan suddenly asked me, indicating toward Berethor with his sword.

My anger rose. "I vouch for him in the name of the Lady of the Galadhrim," I spoke haughtily. I quickly realised that had been a mistake as Berethor glanced sharply at me.

The Ranger nodded thoughtfully. "Very well then," he murmured. "An Orc attacked us in the pass near Caradhras, and stole something very important."

"Us?" I questioned.

"I was travelling with a Dwarf…a friend, actually. They came upon us so hard and fast, and the Dwarf fought like one possessed, but there were too many."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste at the thought of a Dwarf.

"I have to find him," the Ranger finished.

We had been ignoring Berethor, and it seemed as if he had reached his limit. "You Rangers are all the same, all secrets and cloaks and daggers," he cried. "Why can you not give a straight answer?"

He quickly turned to me. "And who are you to speak on behalf of a ruler of Elves?"

I, once again, retreated to my aloofness. "You must come with me to Lórien so I can tell my Lady Galadriel about the dangers here. There you shall get your explanations." I realised I was just digging myself into a bigger and bigger hole.

"We should find one of their healing altars first," Elegost suggested. "After the beating the Dwarf and I gave him, the Orc who stole my map will need some healing himself."

I nodded.

I quickly searched the altar and found a few cracked fragments of stones, though they were better than nothing. The magics laid on them would help us in our quest.

We dealt them out according to our talents.

"Come friends," I said, once we were done, "we shall go find this Orc. We will attend to my own matters in due course."

We made camp soon after, in the lee of an outcropping of rocks, and Elegost told us his tale.

He told us of the bewitched fight him and his Dwarf ally had fought and the loss of the map that they had carried. He knew the map revealed the location of the entrance to Moria and he told us what very little he knew of that lost realm.

He then asked us to help him find his Dwarven friend, who would be nearby, for the Ranger was sure he had not been killed in the landslide that had carried him away.

Berethor did not look pleased by yet another delay, and I was not pleased with the thought of helping a Dwarf, but we both agreed to help.

Elegost lit a fire with the flint he carried in his belt and the dead wood lying all about.

I knew Berethor would not need my warmth again tonight. So I, again, took the watch and allowed my human companions to sleep.

Naught attacked us, once again, and I spent my time considering what I was to do now. I knew Berethor knew I was holding things back, but I could tell him no more under the orders of my Lady Galadriel. Elegost seemed to trust me either way - it was bred into the Rangers to trust Elves…I just hoped our leaders would not betray that trust.

I had said I wished to take Berethor back to Lórien, though I do not know why I said it, for there would be little point in it - the Lady herself had said there was no more she could do to aid him.

I decided I would worry about that when the time came.

I knew our delays chafed Berethor, for he wanted to find Boromir; I knew also we were close on the tails of the Fellowship, and thusly Boromir, but I could not tell him so, for that would be compromising the entire Ring situation, and I could not do that as of yet.

The morning arrived, cold and grey, and we continued on.

We found a helmet that had been laid aside by the road; it was not rusted, though it was beaten fairly well.

Still, Berethor argued, it was better than nothing.

I agreed in principle, anything that protected him further was a boon to me, but I half wished it did not hide his pretty copper hair - watching the light dance in it had quickly become a favourite pastime of mine.

...I would just have to find something else to stare at.

After more hours of mindless walking, we found another abandoned spirit altar, and more shards of Elfstones. They were not very powerful, but we again divided them up.

It felt good to me to be cleansing these sacred places of Orcish taint.

Continuing, we crossed an old Elven bridge, covered so it could also be used as an outpost - it creaked beneath our feet, but it was still sound and I thanked Valar for it.

The next altar we found was in a grove of sorts, water from a nearby waterfall covered the ground. It was beautiful.

The Orcs guarding it were stouter than the ones we had encountered before, but they still fell before us. One of them dropped an Elvish breastplate, much like the one I usually wore, though this one was ancient, but in remarkable condition. It fit well too. The stupid Orc must have found it among the treasures here, or back at the outpost.

We had still seen no sign of Elegost's Orc, so we tarried little, though I would have been happy to stay endlessly, before we continued.

We passed through a frightful area next; the trees were bare limbs. I sensed the evil about this place the instant we set foot in it. When we discovered the last altar, I knew the reason. Unlike the others, which had just been being guarded, some foul magic had been worked upon the final altar and it served the Orcs.

Once we cleared them, and retrieved Elegost's map, I used my magic to cleanse the taint from it and the Elfstone shards. We lingered not in that place, I would not have it, and instead we kept on until we reached where the trees were again lush.

From the map, we were getting close to Moria. As we considered stopping for a break, I heard the sounds of battle in the distance…accompanied by a litany of Dwarven curses. I looked to Elegost.

"We may have found your companion," I commented.

The Ranger soon found his companion's footprints and we came upon the Dwarf... battling a cave-troll.

I must admit that the Dwarf, Hadhod, was an excellent fighter. We would have had a difficult battle with the troll had he not been there.

I do not like Dwarves, I am an Elf after all, but they do have their uses, I suppose. Elegost trusted him and I trusted Elegost well enough, so I would allow him along. We would also need him to help track the Fellowship to, and possibly through, Moria.

We climbed from the troll's pit and continued along the steep path toward the old Dwarven realm. In the distance we could see what used to be the Elven bridge, now rent in the middle.

We found Moria's west gate flooded and blocked by rubble, the water was deep, cold and black. Nothing in all Arda or Valinor could induce me to set foot in that.

I warned the others that it was certainly not aright. A patrol of Rivendell Elves was on the further shore, engaged in a battle with some Orcs, their leader called out to me, telling me to keep away from the water.

Suddenly, a long sinuous tentacle darted out and seized one of the Orcs. It was dragged screaming into the massive creature's gaping maw. The Elves and Orcs cried out in horror and fled, their battle forgotten.

The beast then turned its gaze on us. It was a fearsome enemy and there were moments I thought we might all fall to its wrath. However, Elegost's bow proved to finally overcome it and, in the throes of pain, the creature tore the sealed doors of Moria asunder.

"I knew it was good for something," Hadhod proclaimed.

We walked slowly into the darkness of Moria. I would have been just as happy not to enter it, however I had nowhere else to go and I would not let fear and superstition rule me.

Hadhod shoved me back as we entered, proclaiming a Dwarf would be the first to enter.

I thought about taking my sword to his neck, but when he fell to his knees and cried out, I saw that this place had become a tomb, the ruins of a decades-old battle were strewn across the floor.

Hadhod talked of the abomination witnessed by the great statues of the Dwarven kings.

I actually agreed. Touched by the Dwarf's tough mien being broken and the godly and goodly power I felt from the statues, I impulsively placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Let me help you reclaim it for your people," I spoke. It was the right thing to say.

No Dwarf has insulted my honour as of yet and I do try not to prejudge people, so I shall give this Hadhod a chance - his grief runs deep and I think we shall all need to be allies, if not friends, for our quest to continue.

Translations:

Imladris - Rivendell

Ellon - male Elf

Dúneadan - Ranger, literally Man of the West