A/N

Wow! I didn't think that many people would like this!! Hehe, thanks everyone for your reviews - I hope I replied to every one of them. Hmm...here's chapter one...it's a bit longer than the last one, but I didn't want to end it any earlier, so...yeah. Hope it doesn't put anyone off, with the length!

Well, that's about it from me.

Disclaimer: It's all JRR Tolkien's. Never said it was mine.

Chapter One: What does this mean?

"What is it that troubles you?" The golden-haired Elf whirled around in a blur of gold and white, her light blue eyes widened as she was caught unaware. She relaxed when her gaze fell on her silver-haired husband, who had a somewhat surprised expression on his face.

"My lord, we are far too old to be sneaking around, trying to startle each other," she commented, before turning back to the stone, water-filled basin that she had been staring at.

"Sneaking around?" Celeborn shook his head. "Something must trouble you indeed for you to not hear my approach." He stepped forward so that he was standing beside his golden-haired wife. "Tell me, Galadríel, what is it that troubles you?"

The golden-haired Elf bowed her head slightly, gathering her thoughts.

"'Tis nothing, my lord," she said, after a while. She looked up as a hand was placed on her arm, and met the concerned gaze of her husband.

"You have not been yourself for a few days now, my dear lady," said Celeborn, softly. "And I am not the only one who seems to have noticed this." He smiled as Galadríel shot him a questioning glance. "Your female attendants have noticed that something is amiss...much like your granddaughter has."

Galadríel could not help but smile.

"Ah," she said. "I should have done better then, to hide my anxiety." The smile disappeared from Celeborn's face, to be replaced with a serious expression.

"Will you not tell me what it is that troubles you, Galadríel?"

"You know that I will, Celeborn," said Galadríel, quietly. "But...I cannot fathom the meaning of...what it is that I saw."

Celeborn frowned. It was unusual for the Lady Galadríel of the Golden Wood to not be able to decipher the meaning of one of her visions.

"Mayhap it was not a vision, in that case...?" he suggested. Galadríel shook her head.

"Nay," she whispered. "It...felt too real...all too real..." She closed her eyes as she remembered the feeling of dread that had arisen in her, as she watched certain...scenes unfold.

Celeborn squeezed her hand gently.

"You need not push yourself, to tell me," he said, softly. "And I will not force you to do it. But, whenever you feel...ready to talk about, please, do share it with me."

Galadríel shot her husband an affectionate look as she listened to him, now remembering why she had refused her father's offer to finally leave Middle-Earth, when the host from Valinor had arrived to take care of Morgoth. She would not have had the love of this wonderful Elf-lord if she had left.

"Thank you," she whispered, turning back to the basin as her husband left the glade. Once more, as she peered into the water, the image of the dark-haired Elf-maiden appeared amongst the ripples of the water.

She turned her head slightly, but Galadríel still could not see her face. But she could not deny the fact that she had first thought that the Elf-maiden was her granddaughter. The next image that she saw lit up the whole clearing, casting an eerie bright light over the golden-haired Elf's troubled face.

Galadríel knew what the gleaming jewel was, the moment her eyes had rested on it, for she remembered, all too well, the beauty of the Silmarils of Fëanor.

When the image shifted, the light went with it, and an almost...wary expression appeared on the Elf's face as she stared into the bright eyes of the dark-haired Noldor Prince. The one Elf who, she supposed, the Eldar in Middle-Earth should thank, for bringing them to the land, as opposed to remaining in Valinor.

"Ai, Fëanáro," she whispered. "Must you trouble the Eldar once again, with your jewels? Have you not caused us enough trouble as it is...?"

Meanwhile, in Imladris:

Glorfindel leaned back in the chair, a frown on his face as he did so. His eyes had a somewhat distant look to them, as he stared ahead of him.

"-but they were not...are you even listening to me?" The dark-haired Elf seated before him stopped, raising his eyebrows as he did so. Glorfindel nodded.

"Yes," he said, "Do continue." Erestor sent him a strange look, before shrugging.

"Where was I...? Ah, yes, here." He shook his head. "Gondor, it seems, suspects that Rohan might have something to do with the kidnappings, but, as we all know, that is false. The last time Mithrandir was here, he mentioned the fact that Théoden was hardly acting like himself, and was not associating with his people much. Even so, I do not believe that he would be capable of such...horrid deeds."

Glorfindel nodded.

"Aye, Théoden son of Thengel would not stoop so low. Besides, he has no need for slave trading." He tilted his head to a side. "Who do you think is responsible...?"

Erestor said nothing for a while, as he stared hard at the parchment in front of him.

"Well," he said, slowly. "I suppose you could say that Men are responsible, for, who else can kidnap the youth of Gondor and smuggle them out of the city?"

"But...?" pressed Glorfindel, listening intently to his friend. Erestor sighed.

"There is a missing link somewhere," he said. "Why would any slave trader require such a large amount of slaves? The Haradrim already have their fair share and more of illegal slaves, and the Easterlings...well, I do not see why they would wish to have more slaves than they already have. Besides, it is the nature of the Easterlings and the Wild Men to kill those in their captivity..."

Glorfindel nodded, although there was a slightly confused expression on his face.

"What are you trying to say, Erestor?" he asked, after a while.

"This is no mere...issue of slave trading," said the dark-haired Elf. "There is something more to it. I would like to know where these 'slaves' are being taken; for I do not believe that their final destination is Harad, or any of the dwellings of Men."

"You think there is something more to it," mused Glorfindel. His light eyes narrowed. "...Are you implying that Sauron-"

"-That is possible," admitted Erestor, "but no, I do not...I am not sure if he is directly involved, for he is much too weak to be doing that at this very moment."

Glorfindel frowned.

"You have successfully confused me, mellon-nin," he said, as he rubbed the sides of his head, remembering his earlier confusing conversation with Elrond. "Honestly, is it 'let us all confuse Glorfindel' day today?"

Erestor raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. "If you do not believe that the recent kidnappings have been carried out by slave traders or by...Sauron himself, then who do you think is responsible?"

"Have you ever wondered, Glorfindel, of what the Avari have been up to, these last few Ages?" Normally, Erestor would have been amused at the way Glorfindel's eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing into his hairline.

"The Avari?!" exclaimed Glorfindel. "Erestor, what in Eru's name made you think of them?"

"Why not?"

"They have not seen the light of Valinor, that is true, but I do not believe that they would have turned to evil." Glorfindel shook his head. "I know not where exactly their realms are, but they are known to wander across the wide lands, far from the sea, having no contact with the rest of the Eldar."

Erestor nodded.

"That is true," he agreed. "But mayhap you have not yet heard of the ancient reports of Mirkwood?"

"Mirkwood?"

"Aye. For before, in Oropher's time and when his kingdom was rightfully called Greenwood, some of his...scouts noticed that there were signs of other life in the edges of the forests, closer to the river."

"I have heard of this," said Glorfindel, "but...I thought it was decided that it was Sauron's servants, trying to enter the Woodland Realm."

Erestor nodded once more, before absently brushing a few strands of his dark hair from his face.

"There was one report, one isolated report, made by Calenaglar, the 2nd in command of Oropher's scouts." He paused. "Calenaglar mentioned that...there were some...rather Elven elements to the things that they saw-"

"-Could it not be possible that he had mistaken the tracks of one of the Sindar themselves?" Erestor shot him a strange look.

"The Wood Elves, Glorfindel, are the best trackers amongst the Elves of Middle Earth." Glorfindel nodded, sighing. "Besides, he wrote in his report that they had found a number of cloaks and a few swords."

"What?"

"The cloaks," continued Erestor, ignoring his friend's interruption, "were embroidered with images of the stars; of Carnil and Luinil, Nénar and Lumbar and of Alcarinquë and Elemmírë; the stars wrought by Varda Elentári to herald the Awakening of the Firstborn. Who else but those of our kind could have done such a thing, Glorfindel? For even now, in this Age, there are very few Elves who remember the tales passed down from generation to generation in their families, about the Awakening of the Elder children of Ilúvatar, and how the Elves grew to love the stars of Varda."

Glorfindel was looking more and more troubled as his friend spoke. "And their swords, although keen and light as our swords would be, bore strange carvings on their hilts and sheaths."

"What were the carvings of?" asked Glorfindel, wondering why he dreaded the answer.

"Grond." A tense silence fell amongst the two friends as Erestor uttered the name, the name that none of the Elves would ever forget, even if they had not been in existence at the time the name was first made known to the world.

"Grond?" echoed Glorfindel. Erestor nodded, a grave expression on his face. "The...Hammer of the Underworld. Morgoth's great mace, known particularly well to Fingolfin..."

Glorfindel suddenly felt...sick. "This report that you speak of, where is it now? Would it be in the vaults of Thranduil in Mirkwood?"

Erestor shook his head.

"Nay." He saw the expectant expression on his friend's face and shook his head once more. "It is not here in Imladris either."

"Then where is it?" questioned Glorfindel.

"It was destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Glorfindel's eyes widened. "Why on earth was it destroyed? It was an important report, was it not? Who would be foolish enough to---"

"Oropher's advisors." Erestor understood the stunned expression on his friend's face; he too had felt the same when he had heard of what had happened. "They felt that the people of Greenwood would...panic, if they were to find that the Avari had indeed, by the looks of things, forsaken the side of good. They wanted to protect their people."

"So, Oropher just let them destroy the report?" hissed Glorfindel. Erestor shook his head.

"Nay, Oropher never got the chance to set his eyes upon the report. It was destroyed before it reached him."

"How do you know this...?" Erestor smiled.

"If you remember correctly, I am part Noldor, part Sindar," he said. "Calenaglar was the son of my mother's brother –my mother being of the Sindar. He was my cousin."

Glorfindel said nothing for a few moments.

"Why did he not re-write the report?" A brief flash of emotion passed across Erestor's face.

"He was sent out to Lindon, with a message to Cirdan and Gil-galad, soon afterwards. His troop was attacked on the way." Dark eyes narrowed. "He passed on while being treated by Gil-galad's Healers. I was there, Glorfindel, in his last moments. He felt it important to tell someone about it, and he did. He passed on shortly afterwards."

"Ai, I am sorry," said Glorfindel, truthfully, as he bowed his head.

"He led a good life," was all that Erestor said.

"Does Elrond know of this...report?" Erestor nodded his head.

"Aye, he does," he said, "and he would have liked to send messengers to Oropher, informing him of it all, but at the time, it was not possible to spare the Elves needed." He paused.

"And Oropher was not really on very good terms with the Noldor, was he? He would not have taken your word for it, even though you are part Sindar yourself." Erestor shook his head. Glorfindel leaned back in his chair. "This is not good news, Erestor. If, as you say, the Avari have forsaken the side of good...what does this mean? Does this mean that they have sworn their allegiance to Sauron?"

"Judging from what Calenaglar witnessed, the presence of the carving of Grond on the sheaths of the swords tells me rather that...they have sworn their allegiance to Morgoth."

Glorfindel nodded.

"Aye, but since he is imprisoned in the Void, and watched over by the Valar, is it not safe to assume that they would have sworn their allegiance to Sauron at some point in the last Age?"

"That is possible..." agreed Erestor, before letting out a long sigh. "But we cannot be certain, Glorfindel. There are a great number of possibilities, and while it is important not to lightly rule them all out, it is impossible to ascertain the truth, is it not?"

"True, but still there---" He was interrupted by a dark-haired Elf who ran into Erestor's office. "Lindir, whatever is the matter?" asked Glorfindel, as he saw the troubled expression on the Elf's face.

"The second patrol is returning, my lord," answered Lindir. "They seem to have suffered some kind of attack, for the scouts have sent word that their numbers are less than when they set out."

Glorfindel was out of his seat and out of the office in a flash, all thoughts of his conversation with Erestor pushed to the back of his mind as he ran.

Exchanging startled glances, Erestor and Lindir followed him, at a slightly more sedate pace.

A little while later:

There were anxious expressions on the faces of Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor and Lindir, as they awaited the arrival of the second patrol in the courtyard of the refuge. They did not have to wait long, for soon, horses galloped into the courtyard, breathing heavily as they were called to a stop.

It did not take the gathered Elves long to notice that there were only eight of the twelve horses that had set out from Imladris; and that there were only nine of the original twelve Elves.

They did not have time to ponder on this, as Elladan jumped down from his horse, not even bothering to greet his father or friends, as he turned to his brother's horse, holding onto a cloaked figure as his brother dismounted.

"It is good to see that you have –"

"-Adar, there is no time for greetings. She is gravely wounded. You must see to her," cut in Elrohir, as he wearily followed his brother, who walked towards their father with the cloaked figure in his arms.

"Her?" asked Elrond, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Elrohir nodded.

"Yes, she-"

"-Adar, she has internal bleeding and is half-unconscious. The shock that kept the away the pain of her injuries is wearing off now, Adar."

Without another word, Elrond reached out and pulled the half-unconscious Elf into his arms. Nodding at his sons and the rest of the patrol, he spun on his heel.

"Glorfindel, Erestor, I would like the details of everything that has happened, as soon as possible. When you are done, come to the Healing Wing. Elladan, Elrohir, get some rest and then join me in the Healing Wing." With that, he walked briskly up the stairs, a sense of urgency in his posture as he moved out of sight.

A few moments later:

With a grim expression on his face, Elrond further ripped the tear in the dress that the Elf-maiden had on her; the tear that revealed the gash on her stomach. Judging from the way the cut-skin had crusted over, he knew that the wound was a few days old; at least four days old, if he wanted to be exact. It worried him that it still bled freely.

Using a clean strip of cloth to absorb the blood, he ran his hand over the cut, trying to feel if there was anything in it, thinking that there might be a piece of whatever weapon was used to make the cut. Finding nothing, he washed the wound out with fresh athelas water. The Elf did not move as he treated her injuries, for he had given her a pain-killer.

He knew that what his sons had said was right, that her shock had been wearing off and that, should she fall unconscious, it was possible that she would not wake again, yet, by the time he was treating her third gash, the shock had completely worn off, resulting in muffled screams and panicked writhing.

He had had no choice but to give her a concoction of pain-killer herbs, albeit knowing the risk he took in doing so, for a pain-killer of even the mildest strength, caused drowsiness.

Wrapping a bandage around the gash on her stomach, he glanced at her prone figure, taking note of the injuries she had on her arms and legs. Calling one of the female healers to him, he stepped away from the bed.

"I will be outside for a moment, please change her out of that dress and into one of the healing-wing gowns," he said, moving towards the doors.

"But...my lord, her other injuries...?"

"I have seen to most of her injuries, but I would much rather she get out of...what remains of her dress before the blood dries up, and before the cloth sticks to her bruised skin. I can deal with her other injuries once you are done."

A few moments later, he was ushered back into the healing wing, and found the prone Elf-maiden dressed in the simple, pale yellow gown that patients in the healing wing usually wore. Rolling up the sleeves of the gown, Elrond cleaned up the wounds on her arms, and repeated the process for the wounds on her legs, noting that she was far too thin for one of her height.

Ai, it is a wonder that she has survived so much...with such large amounts of blood loss. A wave of anger flashed across his face. What kind of vile creature would do this to a young maiden?

Grabbing a clean strip of cloth, Elrond dipped it into the bowl of fresh, warm water, before gently moving it over the Elf's blood-covered face. He saw that she had a few cuts on her face, but they were not deep and would heal without leaving a scar as time went on.

When the blood was cleaned off her face, the Half-Elven lord was allowed his first glimpse of the Elf-maiden's face.

And his eyes widened, first with fear, then with a sense of familiarity. For he knew this face, with its high cheek bones, sticking out prominently –probably as a result of malnutrition; he knew the pale red, cracked lips and the elegant button nose.

Ai Elbereth! It was her, I am sure that it was her that I saw in my...vision. She bore a likeness to Arwen and yet, was also quite unlike her.

Grey eyes narrowed in thought. What did this mean?

A/N

Well, that was a bit longer than the previous chapter, but I didn't want to stop this at any other point. Heh, hope that was interesting!

Until the next chapter!

Siriusgirl1