A/N: Hello again! Here's the next chapter. Everything you read here about Glorfindel is canon, so don't go ranting at me. Standard disclaimers (oh, if I owned the LotR-verse I'd be exploring it, not writing) and all that stuff. Enjoy!
Cold mist rushed past Celebech's head, rushing downriver, spiralling up to a point no more than ten feet away. Spray from the churning water rose up to join the swirling fog as a shape emerged from the madly spinning moisture. A howling, gale-force wind pushed him under, and the silver-haired Elf had to fight to get back up. When he finally did, it was only to get a lungful of freezing fog as the shape howled in rage.
"She is mine!" is shrieked, and only then did he see that the elleth had been lifted up on a pillar of muddy river water, almost encased in the murky, liquid tendrils.
Glorfindel strode forwards, down to the riverbank, as he drew his sword. It glittered in the low afternoon light, even more so as miniscule droplets of moisture settled on the steel. Suddenly he was no longer a Lord and a Captain, but a Balrog-slayer, fearless and strong in the face of danger.
The golden-haired Elf stared at the apparition in the river and the elleth trapped by it for a moment before speaking, his voice deep and authorative.
"She is a free elleth," he said. "You will let her go!"
"Never!" the river-sprite hissed. "She is mine, and you are a fool to oppose me!"
Glorfindel raised his sword and stepped into the water. A strange light flickered around him, and where the rays hit the river-sprite, it recoiled, holes and tunnels appearing in the water. A hiss like billowing steam escaped from the creature's lips.
"I am Lord Glorfindel of Imladris. I slew a Balrog at the Fall of Gondolin and was sent back from the Halls of Mandos by the Valar themselves. I guard Lord Elrond and all who dwell within his domain. We are within the borders and you have taken an innocent Elleth captive. Let. Her. Go."
The river-sprite howled in rage and denial, but the murky, icy cage was wavering and diminishing, before disappearing completely and dropping the elleth into the water with a loud splash. Celebech willed his numb limbs into action, swimming sluggishly over to her. He grasped her hand, then her head, and pulled her carefully towards the riverbank. Glorfindel met him where the water was waist deep, taking the elleth in one arm and assisting his friend with the other. The rest of the patrol caught up with them then, almost dragging all three out of the water in their hurry.
Some hectic minutes later both the golden-haired and the silver-haired ellyn had changed to dry (but not, Glorfindel noted, clean) clothes. Baraew, the brown-haired elleth, had changed the mysterious elleth into a set of her own clothes and was tending to her along with their Healer.
Glorfindel went over to them, crouching down to study the elleth more closely. Her face was fine-boned and delicate, her skin smooth. Her breath was calm and easy though a little shallow and her eyes moved restlessly beneath closed lids. But the slight glow that surrounds all Elves was weak, diluted somehow, around her. She wasn't exactly fading, but there was something terribly wrong with her. His Healer's instincts itching, he let some of his own light shine on her, only to see hers flicker and change, like light playing on rocks beneath the water.
Baraew and the Healer had noticed this as well, and were discussing what it could be. Glorfindel joined in as Celebech began readying the group for departure.
"Whatever it is, it is bad. Far beyond my skill," the Healer said. Baraew nodded.
"There is no physical damage we can see, only hypothermia," she said.
Glorfindel looked thoughtfully from the river to the elleth and back again.
"She was taken by a malevolent spirit, and while it did not touch her, many spirits do not need to." He paused. "And yet… this one was not altogether evil, but angry," Baraew and the Healer nodded.
"It seemed to want her and only her," the brown-haired elleth offered. Glorfindel gave a thoughtful nod.
Just then Celebech came over. "My Lord, we are ready to leave once you give the word," he said. Then his gaze fell on the elleth.
"Is she supposed to be that colour?" he asked. Alarmed, they looked down at her. Her skin had taken on a ghastly blue-ish grey pallor, her lips slowly turning purple from cold.
Glorfindel rose. "We make for Rivendell," he said, his voice commanding. "Celebech, you lead the patrol. I will take the elleth and ride. We need to get her to Lord Elrond," the Healer rose as well.
"But my Lord, it will be a death ride," he protested. Glorfindel nodded grimly. "I know. But we have no choice, if we wish to save her. It all rests now on her will to survive," he mounted Asfaloth even as the elleth was set in the saddle. Holding her in front of him, he spurred his Elf-steed into a canter, leaving Celebech and his patrol behind.
A/N: Yep, that's it for now. For those of you who didn't quite get the "death ride" thing, it's when you take a seriously ill or injuried person and ride hard for a long time to get him/her to a Healer. It doesn't always work, hence the name.