Disclaimer: Still the same, nothing is mine, all Tolkien's and Co.

Word count: 2488/3502

Chapter 2

It was late at night as he finally entered his rooms, wrapped into a warm robe, his hair still damp from having taken a hot bath upon his return. Even though they had searched for a long time and ventured far into the woods they had not been able to find any game and finally they had given up, cold, hungry and tired, and had hurried back home.

Glorfindel didn't bother to light any candles; the moon shone brightly in the sky, filling his chambers with silvery light. He poured himself a glass of wine, stepping up to the huge glass doors leading to his balcony, staring out into the night. He shivered slightly in the cold that seeped through the windows, but it didn't matter. He had felt the cold of death, the cold of life couldn't harm him anymore.

Sipping his wine his gaze travelled across the valley to the wood where Gildor and he had hunted earlier. His thoughts kept turning back to the strange encounter deep in the woods and he wasn't able to shake off the feeling that he had missed the most important part. Glorfindel had seen much in his former life and even though this new lifetime was still very young he knew what a wolf looked like. The creature in the woods had not been one of them.

Gildor had asked him several times on their way back what he had seen there, noticing how his usually already quite friend had grown even quieter. But Glorfindel hadn't known what to answer and had remained silent. Gildor wouldn't have believed him anyway. The warrior was not somebody who believed easily; he was the kind of person who needed to see with his own eyes to know things were true. If he heard strange theories about a creature that was no wolf, yet acted like one and hunted with their pack, it was very possible that he would have laughed at his friend, understandably so. Even to Glorfindel himself his suspicions sounded quite ridiculous.

He smiled slightly as he thought about how different it would have been in Gondolin. Back then, Glorfindel had been quite the chatty person, always eager to talk and laugh with his fellows and to make the acquaintance of new people. But death had changed him, though he didn't really know what had brought about this change. He remembered almost nothing from his time in the Halls of Waiting. It was as if all his memories had been erased and all that remained were uncertain feelings; and none of them were pleasant ones. To think of the Halls of the Dead always made his skin crawl and he felt himself shudder.

Whatever he had experienced there, beyond the veils of life, had turned him into a quiet person. These days Glorfindel rarely spoke with anyone and kept to himself. When he had first returned to the world of the living some years ago all he had felt was confusion, suddenly finding himself thrust back into life, into a world that was nothing like the one he had left. He had simply wanted some time for himself, to think and to sort things out, but most of the elves of the Grey Havens hadn't understood his need and no matter where he went, he had always been surrounded by curious elves wanting to talk to him, wanting to touch his famed golden hair, wanting to hear about the Halls of Mandos, about Gondolin, about everything. Glorfindel had felt like a rabbit trying to hide from a hawk and after just a few days he had even been too frightened to leave his room, knowing just too well that there would be a horde of elves waiting for him if he did.

Finally he had left, not able to bear their constant nagging any longer, even if they meant no harm, and he had ended up in Rivendell. He felt far more comfortable here, but this experience still clung to him and he rather kept to himself and rarely joined others for company. In fact, the only elf he spent time with on a regular basis was Gildor. He still had no idea how they had managed to become friends, but they had, and they often spend their free time together, both finding satisfaction in the arrangement. Gildor respected Glorfindel's wish for silence most of the time and was eager to talk to him whenever his friend felt the need for conversation. He himself equally relished their meetings, enjoying not being surrounded by people trying and saying anything to get his attention and approval. It could hardly be avoided as Captain of Rivendell, but he much preferred to spend time with someone who could also keep his mouth shut and did not babble without end.

Save for Gildor there was only one other elf Glorfindel dared to confide in, the Lord of Rivendell himself. Elrond had been very understanding from the very beginning on, not hesitating one second to open his doors for the stranger when Círdan told him of the reborn warrior's wish to leave the Grey Havens. He had also made sure that the inhabitants of the Last Homely House knew to keep their distance and for the most part everyone had followed this order.

Glorfindel was slowly pulled out of his brooding when the clear call of a wolf echoed through the night, followed by a second answering call before the rest of the pack fell in. Staring at the small dark silhouettes of the trees far way Glorfindel wondered if this was the same pack they had seen earlier in the woods, and if the strange creature was with them. He listened for some minutes to the singing wolves, finishing his glass of wine. Finally he turned around, stepping back into his chamber with a last glance at the wood in the distance, sighing quietly. He left the curtains to the balcony open so that the light of the moon could fall into his chamber, moving away from the big windows. Slowly he started to strip, from time to time casting a glance outside, from where the calls of the animals drifted in.

He could not let this matter rest. Besides his chattiness there had been other traits he had been known for in Gondolin and to those belonged his great curiosity and stubbornness. And other than his wish to speak those one had not been diminished by his stay in the Halls of Waiting in the least. He was going to find out what was hiding in the woods.

Asfaloth snorted angrily, not liking it at all that she was forced to leave her warm, dry stable on a day like this. The snow covered the ground in a thick blanket, nearly reaching her belly, and she had to lift her legs high to be able to move forward. She had tried to make it clear to her master what she thought of his idea to go out on a day like this, but he hadn't listened to her and had insisted on leaving, even though the sky had just opened once more and it was beginning to snow. He had not even agreed to leave those dogs behind. The animals were following behind them in the path Asfaloth drew with her body in the deep snow, tails wagging excitedly and bright eyes surveying their surroundings, apparently far happier with their excursion than the horse.

Glorfindel himself was bundled up tightly in several layers of cloth to protect himself from the cold. Humans always thought that elves were unresponsive to any change in temperature, but that was not quite right. They felt the cold as much as any other creature; it just did not affect them in the same way. But as he intended to spend quite some time outside on this day Glorfindel had clothed himself in warmer garments than usual. Even an elf would get cold if he sat in the snow for too long.

Slowly the small group made their way through the valley, heading towards the wood where Gildor and he had hunted a few days ago. Glorfindel himself wasn't quite sure if this was a good day to go out, looking for whatever it was he had seen there, but something had told him that today would be a good opportunity, especially as most of the other elves were gathered in the Hall of Fire, drinking, singing and making merry. Glorfindel much preferred the quite peace of the snow covered valley to the noisy warmth of the house.

The wood appeared in front of them; the dark skeletons of the trees only dark shadows behind the curtain of falling snow. Asfaloth's trot grew slightly faster, eager to get under the trees, where the ground would not be covered quite as thick with snow as on the open field.

Even though they had by far not yet reached the part of the wood where the mysterious encounter had taken place Glorfindel already looked at his surroundings attentively, noticing every paw print in the snow and every spark of colour in the white of the ground.

But even though there was no lack of tracks on the frozen and snow covered ground – not long ago a doe had crossed the path Asfaloth was following just now; over there, vanishing behind a bush, were the tracks of a fox and a short distance away a squirrel had upended one of its hiding places – there was nothing that seemed to be either a wolf or an animal Glorfindel could not place. Glorfindel couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, despite knowing full well that they hadn't entered deep enough yet to have a chance of discovering one of the wolves. He told himself to be patient, but still he couldn't keep his eyes from scanning the ground.

The further they rode into the woods the more anxious Asfaloth grew, turning her raised ears frantically in all directions, nostrils wide to catch even the faintest scent that might indicate danger. She remembered only too well the last time she had been in this area and had been stalked by a pack of wolves. She really did not intend to end her life in the belly of a wolf and neither should Glorfindel. She feared for the poor elf. He did not seem to be aware at all in which danger they were both heading. She considered simply turning around and running away, to save his life and of course hers as well. But she doubted Glorfindel would see her good intention. The only thing he'd do would be forcing her to turn around and go back, which would only result in them being out even longer until he had done what he had come for. In the end Asfaloth settled for some snorting, warningly, trotting deeper into the woods to get done with it as quickly as possible.

Glorfindel extended a hand, gently patting the horse's neck. "It's alright," he murmured quietly. "I won't let them eat you." They were drawing closer to the wolves' area and he didn't need Asfaloth's nervous behaviour to tell him this. Glorfindel's gaze fell upon something in the snow and he made Asfaloth halt in her steps, dismounting to examine his discovery more closely.

It was indeed the paw print of a wolf. And it was a fresh one.

A content smile crossed Glorfindel's face. At least he knew know that he was on the right track. A low growl behind him caught his attention. Slowly he turned around, partly expecting to see the owner of the paw print there. Instead his gaze fell upon the dogs he had taken with him. The animals were growling quietly, ears flattened in a dangerous angle, teeth bared, staring at a spot somewhere in front of them, hidden by trees and bushes.

Slowly Glorfindel rose from the ground, careful not to make any quick or threatening movements. He trusted in the animals' instinct and combined with the traces on the ground he could only too well imagine what had made their hackles rise. With a movement of his hand he told the dogs do stay where they were and the pets reacted instantly, ceasing their growling and settling onto the ground next to Asfaloth, ready to protect her.

Content that the animals were as safe as they were going to be Glorfindel started to carefully creep forward, making his way through bushes and trees. Part of him knew how dangerous his actions were, advancing on a pack of probably half starved wolves, without even the protection of the two dogs he had left behind, but his curiosity demanded to be satisfied and he counted on the wolves instinct to tell them he meant no harm.

His heart started to beat fast in his chest as he finally saw movement in front of him, accompanied by soft growling and the clear sound of snapping teeth. Halting his breath in expectation Glorfindel knelt down to push the twigs of some bushes aside, allowing himself a better view onto what was in front of him.

There, just a few metres away, lay the carcass of a small deer in the snow. The animal's limbs were frozen stiff, probably having died from the cold and lack of food. Apparently others were quite happy over the deer's death, however. Two wolves were tearing at the body, ripping bits of meat out now and then and swallowing them hastily. The wolves, however, were not what caught Glorfindel's attention.

It was the elf next to them, equally thrusting his head into the deer's belly, feasting on the softer bits of the entrails. He was as thin and starved as his wolfish companions; even from where Glorfindel was hiding he could see every single rib sticking out under the pale, slightly blue tinted flesh. His long, black hair was a knotted mass of hair, twigs, leaves and the Valar knew what else. There was also no mistaking that the elf was male.

A loud growl drew Glorfindel from his stupefied trance. One of the wolves had stopped in his meal, staring right at him, making it clear he would not hesitate to protect his prey. Instantly the other two reacted, turning their attention away from the carcass at their feet and to the elf hiding behind the bushes.

Glorfindel stared mesmerized at the elf in front of him, moving on all fours, mouth opened wide in a more than threatening growl. He would have loved to continue to watch the elf and the wolves, but the gesture was unmistakable, and he didn't want to try his luck. As quickly as he could without giving the impression of presenting any danger Glorfindel withdrew from his hiding place, carefully making his way back to where he had left Asfaloth with the dogs.

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As already mentioned, this story is the result of for once being attentive in pedagogy lessons when discussing the topic of feral children, (http://en. children who have apparently lived and/or been raised by animals, in most cases by wolves or dogs. There some doubts as in how far this is fact or fantasy, but for this story I'll just assume it's possible. I'll also try to stay as close to the pedagogical facts concerning such a case, but for the sake of the story I'll take some liberties (and as he's an elf and not a human). I apologize in advance for slow updates, but this story involves lots of research, wolf and pedagogy wise, so I probably won't be able to give you weekly updates. Hope you stay tuned, nonetheless.