Chapter Twenty One

He reached the courtyard just as the second wave of riders appeared on the bridge, following the scout more closely than was habitual.

"How many wounded?" Erestor called to the scout.

"A dozen." He nodded gravely, filling up the infirmary corridors in his mind, counting beds. They had room.

"Keep them out until we have moved the wounded," he told Nairn, gesturing to the relatives and friends who had begun to crowd around the courtyard. She and Isowen herded the onlookers back into the garden or the colonnade.

He let three go past first, carried by a mixture of returning guards and healers Erestor had gathered. The fourth he took himself, half supporting an archer who limped up.

"I thought you would wait for a brief," his charge murmured as they climbed the steps.

"Then fill me in on the way, friend," answered Erestor with a forced smile.

"Cûinath is with us. Glorfindel is yet to come." The last of the rear guard, as he always had been, making sure everyone else was safe. Erestor swallowed hard, stopping his thoughts there.

"Thank you." Elrond pushed a chair across the room in their direction and the archer sat down. "Rest it well, friend."

The new influx if casualties shepherded safely away, Nairn and Isowen had let the onlookers greet their loved ones. Erestor hovered beside Gilotor who was counting heads under his breath.

"One more group to come." The rear guard for the rear guard.

"How heavy?" he asked quietly. How heavy were their losses, how many had been left behind?

"Glorfindel will have to return with fifth fold that which Cûinath claims he has with him if we are to keep every heart intact." The snow swirled around them, dull and heavy. Not since Maethor took control of the garrison had they lost more than one or two on a patrol.

"Have you had time to investigate why this happened?" Gilotor murmured. They could not afford to lose so many again and if Glorfindel did not return and tell them the Orc host had been utterly destroyed it would be their first defeat since they came to the valley.

"Cûinath will report once Glorfindel arrives and Elrond is no longer needed in the infirmary." He wanted to put off laying blame, yet it was also the fear of a simpler explanation: that their forces were too small to match their enemy.

"There will be a vote, of course," continued Gilotor. "Hesten-" Something snapped sharply inside him. It was wrong to begin to name Maethor's successor before any memorial had been given.

"I know," he answered a little too curtly, surprising Gilotor.

"You grieve for him." The simple statement hung in the air, almost an accusation and Erestor considered it. He had disliked Maethor, as a reaction to the Sindar's obvious hatred of him. Yet Maethor was his last link to Oropher, away in the east. The last person who knew even part of his past besides Isowen. Losing him was as if an old scar was suddenly healed, after he had become somewhat fond of it.

"You have a kinder heart than most would."

"We dislike each other, we did not wish the other dead." Gilotor was silent for a moment then started like a rabbit.

"There, on the bridge!" Tired horses trotted over the stone bridge, their riders sagging on their backs. Erestor's eye swept over them until a single golden head caught and held it. Glorfindel rode in the middle of his company, their banners having been discarded. The horses did not so much halt as drift to a stop in complete disarray. Slowly, some with the need of help, their riders dismounted. Erestor met Asfaloth, rubbing the white horse's neck gently, ignoring the sweat that stuck to his hand.

"Are you hurt?" he asked Glorfindel. Wearily the blond elf shook his head. Erestor reached up a hand to help him down, surprised at how readily Glorfindel leaned on him. They paused, in Glorfindel's case for breath it seemed.

"Thank you, my friend." Asfaloth whined, nuzzling his rider's chest before a groom led him away. Glorfindel's arm remained slung over Erestor's shoulder, almost essential for keeping him upright and moving.

"Elrond is still busy with the wounded. Come and rest." There was no objection and they made their way slowly towards Glorfindel's room.

"You took your time." Isowen was smiling, just about as she jumped up from the floor where she had been waiting. "Are you alright?"

"Intact." She pushed her brother's door open and he sank into the nearest chair gratefully.

"Are you hungry?" asked Erestor, filling a cup from the sideboard to pass to him.

"Just tired. We passed bodies on the road." Isowen sighed as she took the seat opposite her brother.

"A tiny band, scouts most likely, we dealt with them. All but two of those you sent made it back."

"Hesten?"

"Is with the healers." There was little else Isowen could say. "Go to sleep, Glor. You will need it come morning." Gently she kissed his cheek and left them, closing the door softly on her way out.

"Come morning? Is there a reckoning to be had?" Glorfindel asked, his voice thin and strained.

"The guard will chose their captain tomorrow, or at least begin to discuss it. Then, yes, we will have to know how this happened. If we were too few-"

"We are too few. Far too few to have ridden out in such a fashion. The enemy is larger than we expected." Glorfindel rubbed his temples as if that would keep him awake longer. "I do not know much of the situation beyond our borders, but we cannot hold out against forces of that size for long." Fear laced the silence between them, almost tangible and all too present.

"I will go and fetch you supper," Erestor said quickly. "You are too tired to begin talking to the others now." He had a sinking feeling he knew what Isowen was planning and keeping her brother away from that for at least one night was no bad thing.

"How well did Pengolodh teach you?" Glorfindel asked just as he opened the door. Erestor froze.

"Badly. The Noldor knew nothing of command." With that he left to fetch a tray of food.