No reviews. . .sigh. . .: (.

It's not that bad, is it?

.>.

Elrond gazed at the cool, stone wall under his feet in silence. His posture, erect and yet relaxed, had not changed for near an hour. Time, however, soon ceases to be of any importance to an immortal. Its bars were not the prison to him that they were to the race of man. He saw them, and he pitied them, for he knew that they would have to bow down before Time, and he knew that they would have no way of escaping it.

Elves did. They were firstborn, and so were slaves to none. A human may be stunned and gripped with awe at the overpowering grace of a waterfall, or the sunlit glory of bird against wind; Elrond had gazed upon both for an eternity and more, and if he gloried in them, he also regarded them with a calm acceptance. The sun would rise, the bright-eyed falcon would soar, the waterfall would crash into lake and stream.

He caught a slight motion out of the corner of his eye, and gave a near imperceptible nod. Glorfindel had arrived some time ago, and had returned with what he had sought. Elrond could only pray that the assassin be worthy of the elves' hopes. For he knew, more than most, that the lives of many other beings would coincide with those of the elves of Rivendell.

One can only hope, and pray that that hope will prove enough.

He blinked, sitting forwards just the slightest in attention as the curving, oaken doors swung open. Elves stood at either side of them, a slightly disdainful expression on their faces.

Now why was that? Elrond couldn't tell quite what he was expecting. A warrior, perhaps, with armor of steel and a greatsword clenched in his fists. Or maybe an archer, with calculating, ice-blue eyes and a grip of steel. Or maybe even a barbarian nomad, armed with the exotic and clothed a flowing furs and leathers.

But probably not this.

Elrond had to adjust his gaze somewhat lower, as the glint of blackened hair he sought reached only the shoulders of the more diminutive elves. The hair he could not –quite –describe as ebony, for behind the travel filth it did not gleam blue gloss at the overhead sun. It was raven-black, seemingly slashed in a V and knotted ruthlessly together. The hair too short to be tied fell over the sides of her face, threatening to cover her eyes. Her eyes were pitch-black, but far from deadened; they spat fire, leaping flames instead of molten lava. They should have been considered oversized for her slight face and quickly pointing chin, but weren't somehow. They did, however, give him the impression of examining a feline. If she had lived a quieter life, Elrond had a feeling those slanted, oval eyes would resemble something akin to a doe's. Now, though, they bordered on a point of explosion, and he didn't think they ever quite left that point.

The woman, even though she didn't look nearly that old, may have been small, but Elrond could see immediately that her size concealed much about her strength. Her arms were slender, but wired with muscle, and her legs long and lean. Her shoulders were broad, and held stiffly back by knotted tension that appeared so ordinary to her, he would not have been surprised if she'd lived most her life without ever relaxing them. Worst even than most humans, he thought skeptically, who rush through their lives without once stopping just to admire the beauty of their very selves.

He couldn't help but noticing her gait. Pride and tension were written all over her body, and yet she didn't so much stalk in as. . .glide. The woman strode in with an economy of movement so completely that one step could hardly be separated from another. It was through that movement, and the sharply flicking gaze of a hunter, that convinced her for Elrond. Yes, this woman could do as well as any other. She was a panther, a predator, a hunting cat. She would not fail in this chase.

"Greetings," he said, voice ringing with authority, and just for the mortal, in common speech, "I see you have found what you sought, Glorfindel."

"Indeed I have, Lord Elrond," the elf's tone was slightly amused, but he replied similarly.

"Greetings, lady," he now inclined his head towards her, "You are welcome here. I am Elrond, lord of Rivendell."

"Sure I am," she muttered to herself sarcastically, apparently underestimating an elf's hearing ability. Elrond kept his face bland and smooth, but did notice another elf give a slight choke.

Louder, Tera continued, ignoring his silent request for her name.

"And what would you have me do? I am at your service, for now. There will be no need for diplomacy." Her voice was curt, blunt, and a trifle sardonic.

Elrond glanced for a moment at Glorfindel, and the latter gave an apologetic look and an almost imperceptible shrug.

"I fear that elves have a natural tendency for diplomacy, lady, but if you wish I will be more forward."

"I know that it is about the orcs. I know that an army masses around here, I know that they are controlled by a magical pendent, and I know that you need me to assassinate their leader. Am I missing much else out?"

The elf seemed, to her amusement, at a loss for words. He recovered much faster than she'd ever have given him credit for, however, and never changed his serene expression to one even of the slightest annoyance.

"All that you know is, indeed, accurate. Good. I have heard that you did well against the orc party who attacked the camp. The only thing you need now from us is the location. . . and perhaps the timing."

"The timing?"

"The orc leader, Sarn, is more often than not beyond our sights. He comes, oh about every fortnight, to a small army posted not thirty miles from us. Then is the only time that I can give you a trustworthy location of his whereabouts, I am afraid."

"And when has he last been here?"

"A week and a little more ago. You are welcome here until then. We can provide you with an armor and weaponry fit for lords, and our stable –"

"My lord I am warning you speak nothing of her horse," Glorfindel hissed in elvish.

Tera, however, was hardly listening. Elrond could almost see the wheels in her brain turning as she pondered the turn of events. If she refused point-blank to stay, it would be a great hassle to hurry her back in time.

"My gear is fine," she murmured absently, tugging a lock of hair away from her eyes. Yes, she would have to stay, like it or not. There wasn't much of a way around that fact.

"So I shall stay here for four, five days? I will need housing, in isolation if possible, in someplace quiet if not," she decided.

Elrond breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"The accommodations will not be a problem, lady. Glorfindel will show you to your room," Tera knew a dismissal when she heard one, and was prepared to pretend otherwise just for spite.

Glorfindel, however, also caught the dismissal, and answered politely before hurriedly steering Tera out of the room.

"You know," he said conversationally into Tera's ear as he positioned her safely in front of him, "I can tell when you are going to start anything. There's this little glint that appears in your eyes, rather like a hobbit's."

"Hmm? Glint in my eyes?" Tera was already mentally erasing glinting eyes from her list of habits, "thank you, I'll change that."

"That, lady, was supposed to be something to be laughed at. The little glint only helps remind me that you are, indeed, human."

"And that I'm not supposed to be?" She asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

Glorfindel gave a little sound of frustration.

"Do you see ill in everything around you? The comment was made in jest."

Tera gave a little snort as she strode on.

"I would think that I have a reason for suspicion. Do not judge me, elf, with your kind. I have lived through more than you can ever imagine."

"And what is that?" the elf's voice was low and soft and spoke of more than annoyance.

But Tera merely glared and increased her pace, ignoring Glorfindel's question.

Insufferable elf, she raged silently, knowing full well that the reason she had been in this mood was because of her vulnerability. There was no darkness here. She had no command over this realm. If they would have her executed now she might be able to escape, but once outside she was helpless. Her only defense she could fall back upon was her anger. Her anger to mask her fear, her anger to mask her helplessness. If nothing else, she had her anger.

It seemed, however, that her silence was the last straw for the already annoyed ellon.

Tera felt the hard slap of back against wood as she was slammed against the hard oak of the wall. Instinctively, she ducked her head and slammed her arms forward. Mistake, she knew instantly, as she felt lithe, strong hands wrap around them, pinning her further to the wall. Growling, she used the support of those hands, launching her leg upwards until it not –quite –slammed against his throat.

Stalemate.

She felt her breath come harshly through a low, feline snarl as she watched the elf's eyes fly open in surprise.

"Believe me, elf, I am no easy prey," she hissed, feeling his grip on her loosen and lowering her leg in turn.

"You test my patience, mortal," he growled back, softly.

They glared at each other, feeling tension growing, neither willing to drop their gaze, when a voice came from beside them.

"Lord Glorfindel? I would inform the lady that her room is ready. It is the first down to the left. Isolated, just as she requested," the quiet voice was questioning, and Tera noted how the elf would not acknowledge her.

Fine, then.

"I believe that I can find my own way," she fell back to her dark, exotic accent that seemed to offend elvish propriety, nodding mockingly to the elf as she shouldered past.

"Lord Elrond would have me escort you," Glorfindel's tone showed just how distasteful that very notion seemed, even as he strode forward to keep up.

Tera stopped abruptly and whirled around.

"Believe me elf that is not necessary," she snarled, eyes blazing in anger.

Glorfindel didn't reply, merely took the left turn to her room, leaving her to catch up. Growling in ill-suppressed rage, she stalked after him.

They reached her room without speaking a word, and Glorfindel departed without a backwards glance. So be it. She had no desire to talk to anyone, much less him.

Fury saw her smashing her fist onto the door, slamming in shut and giving herself a not-so-pretty bruise in the process. Eyes slit, she stalked across the room and flung herself onto the silken-white softness of the bed.

That, she thought, was a disaster.

But she had given her word on going through with it, and her word was something Tera never broke. So she was stuck in this little quest. And the worse thing about it was that she was the one to blame.

Do orcs have jewels, she repeated mockingly in her mind, idiot, idiot girl, think before you do anything.

Still, it was too late to do much about it. She hauled herself out of bed, and grabbed a fresh set of clothing.

She'd ponder on this until she gave herself a headache. . .later. Right now, she needed a bath.