Still having such trouble with ffnet- so this chapter is posted in two parts. Sorry.

Beta: Wonderful Anarithilen

Note: Tindómion is Spiced Wine's character, son of Maglor. In Spiced's story Maglor forced Fanari, Tindómion's mother although she had always been in love with him. In Spiced' s great fics, Tindómion has sworn an oath to avenge her and to kill his father. In this fic, I have Maglor having heard the stories about Tindómion but for his own complicated reasons, shame, denial but also because he would be the victor and so have to defeat his own son, or his own son become a kinslayer –guilty of patricide, he will not acknowledge or meet with Tindómion.

Thanks to Spiced Wine for the loan.

*Gildor was the Elf who met Frodo in the Shire at the start of LOTR. He is described as one of the wandering companies of Elves.

Beta: The very generous and fabulous Anarithilen. Thank you for sticking with me.

Chapter 23: Tindómion

The Moon was low in the sky as morning approached, though it was still dark as Tindómion led his small troop through what had once been the arched gateway to the old fortress of Amon Sûl. Now there were just heaps of rubble where the Nazgûl had driven their beasts, bringing down the ancient watch tower.

Within the fortress' crumbled and ruined walls were numerous small fires that lit the clearing and pushed the edges of the dark to beyond the walls. Little knots of the wounded warriors clustered about the fires, some bandaged or leaning on one another, but there was an air of excitement and they turned with welcoming cries to greet Tindómion's small troop. Most warriors were busy and the camp was noisy and bustling. Orc carcasses were being dragged into a huge pile ready for burning and horses had been gathered at the far end, away from the blood and death. Their heads were low and many stood resting one hoof, tails switching at imaginary flies, for in spite of the carrion it was mercifully cold.

He spotted Elrohir talking to an unremarkable man whom he did not recognise. Tindómion frowned, confused, for he was sure the man had not been amongst the Mithlond elves. Yet something leapt in his blood, some strange sense of recognition. But he found it strangely difficult to hold an image of the man's face.

He turned back to his men. 'Go, take care of our horses first,' he told them. 'And then yourselves. I will report to Glorfindel.'

Tindómion turned back towards Elrohir again, intending to greet him first. The stranger to whom Elrohir had been talking was striding off quickly, purposefully.

'Tindómion!' A welcoming cry distracted him then and Saeldir limped towards him, leaning heavily on a crutch, a bloody bandage about his arm.

Tindómion pulled a wry smile. 'You have been careless,' he said. Saeldir grinned back. Annael too, he saw with relief, was with the rest of the horses. He could not see Glorfindel but as commander, he was likely to be amongst the Elves gathered about near one end, below the fallen tower. Galdor was there.

'To be honest, I was not sure we were even going to make it,' Saeldir confessed, clasping Tindómion's arm. 'We were besieged and failing until help arrived, unlooked for and unexpected.' He cast a quick glance towards Elrohir, who stood now, staring after the stranger to whom he had been talking. The man leapt lightly over the low wall towards the woods.

'Who is that?' he asked, frowning slightly, for the stranger soon was lost amongst the trees.

'Our help unlooked for,' said Saeldir softly. Saeldir's gaze followed the strange elf's path and it seemed to Tindómion there was regret in Saeldir's eyes.

A strange and deep unease crept over Tindómion as the stranger disappeared, like he had missed something. He shook his head slightly. 'One of Gildor's folk? Perhaps taking messages between the wandering companies?' He shrugged for those folk were strange to him, never settling in one place or another but lingering, tarrying a while before they sailed. To him it felt like a sort of fading. 'Did he come in with Galdor and Annael?' Tindómion walked slowly to allow Saeldir to limp slowly alongside him.

'He did,' Saeldir agreed. He was silent for a moment and seemed almost reluctant to speak more. Then he said, 'How relieved was I to see them, they arrived just in the very nick of time.' He laughed mirthlessly. 'A moment later and it would have been too late. But come, tell me what happened with you once you left us.'

Tindómion resisted offering Saeldir his arm to lean on for he was proud and would not wish that, but his steps were slow and painful. 'My small troop made our way swiftly to the narrow cleft where we had left the horses, but of course they had gone. The beasts had flown down upon them and chased them from the gully into the woods, but our sensible horses had led the beasts a merry dance, weaving through the trees and keeping under cover. There is much damage in the woods below,' he said remembering the huge old oaks that had been smashed by the heavy beasts as the horses fled before them.

'I sent the archers ahead and up into the trees and then the rest of us attempted to draw as many of the beasts as we could away from here and towards the hidden archers. We bombarded them with arrows as they swooped overhead, focused on the horses and us of course… Those foul creatures are hard to kill.' He sighed, remembering the terrible pursuit, the charge through the trees with the huge lizards in pursuit. Two of the beasts now lay in the forest, their huge carcasses would be carrion for many weeks. But the rest had escaped, returned back to Amon Sûl to attack the depleted forces that stayed with Glorfindel to fight the Nazgûl. 'After that we heard a skirmish and knew that the Orcs had taken prisoners…' He was silent for a moment, remembering the terrible screams and the sight of the mutilated Elf. 'Galdor was already there and once we joined him it did not take long to dispatch that group of Orcs… but there were so many. It felt like a slow tide pressing down on us.'

'By then the Orcs had surrounded us too,' Saeldir observed. 'We really did not think we were going to survive until Annael turned up with his force. 'You stayed to fight the Orcs from below, amongst the trees?'

'Yes. I took a very small group of horsemen who would be able to move very quickly and strike, punch holes in the Orcs' ranks,' Tindómion said matter-of-factly. 'Annael and Galdor returned to you. They took all the other horses so it would appear that there were more warriors than there were.' He looked about the old fortress with grim satisfaction. 'And they seem to have been very effective.'

He glanced at Saeldir who grunted but said nothing. He seemed to concentrate on walking; his breathing was harsh and labored and he leaned very heavily on the crutch which Tindómion now saw was hastily made from the haft of an Orcish spear. Then he said with disgust, 'These foul beasts stink worse than the cesspit at Bree.'

Indeed the beast stank. Its flesh already smelt like a rotting corpse though its blood had only stilled a little while ago. Tindómion looked at it in revulsion; the head was more wormlike than serpent, a slow worm perhaps with that revolting silver smoothness gleaming. He grimaced.

'How many have we lost?' he asked, for the Elves who had fallen beneath the tower, or been killed by Orcs, had already been carefully laid out upon the muddy ground upon cloaks, as if keeping them dry might somehow make their rest easier. They were laid out in a line.

Saeldir gestured to where two warriors lay at the end of line of bodies, eyes closed and hands folded over their swords which lay upon their breasts. 'Rothgalon and Lominion.' Saeldir knelt beside them and stroked the hair back from Lomion's still face.

Tindómion looked down in pity and sorrow; the rest were all Elves from Mithlond. One man had been wrapped tenderly in a rich cloak that Tindómion recognized as Galdor's own. He leaned in a little to peer more closely at the face of the dead man and then covered his mouth with his hand; this was the man who had been dragged over the wall by the Orcs. He had been horribly tortured- his ears cut off, eyes gouged out.

He felt Saeldir's hand on his arm, steadying him. 'His sacrifice means that other will not suffer this fate.' Tindómion nodded; he knew this was true, that a victory by Sauron would mean that no elf was safe in Middle Earth and Orcs would flood the roads west to prevent them fleeing, those that would.

'And poor Anguirel,' Saeldir added. There, a little way beyond the line of dead elves, was the torn and bloody carcass of Anguirel. Tindómion crouched beside the horse, and drew his hands over its wide and staring eyes, trying to rid himself of the image of Anguirel struggling in the talons of the beast, blood gouged from his flanks…He could not. It would stay with him forever. And so it should, he told himself.

As should the image of Gil's beloved face, so still in death…

Even now… Even now amongst the blood, even now so many years later. Even now when his limbs and lust were still sated from Legolas Thranduillion who walked East into Mordor.

He pushed himself to his feet, used to the heaviness in his chest, used to the pain of loss and regret.

'We will take them home now,' Saeldir said quietly. He let his hand fall onto Tindómion's shoulder.

Tindómion looked up in surprise. 'Now? Will we not continue on to Mithlond?' he asked. 'Surely that is our task? To lure the Nazgûl away to the west.'

But Saeldir shook his head and looked down. He kicked an Orc's arm out of his way, onto its chest with his uninjured foot

'No. Our ruse is discovered. They nearly had Glorfindel.' He wiped his mouth on his hand and Tindómion saw specks of blood when he took it away. 'Had we not had help, they would have killed him.'

'What do you mean?' Tindómion rose swiftly to his feet and looked around him: Glorfindel was not there. Panic churned in his belly. 'Where is he? What has happened?'

'He was touched by a morgul blade.' Saeldir paused to shift the crutch under his arm.

'A morgul blade?' Tindómion stared aghast. He spun round in alarm and looked again towards the knot of men huddled near the most sheltered of the crumbled walls, and saw that there was a cloak cast over a man lying on the ground, long golden hair fluttered in the cold wind.

'Then is he lost?'' cried Tindómion and he pushed forwards, anxiety leaping in his heart and belly.

'No! No. He is resting,' Saeldir reassured him quickly and lay a restraining hand on his arm. 'He is alive and that is better than I expected.' He sighed and then said, 'Angmar crashed his beast into the tower and Glorfindel was caught beneath. Helpless. It was Angmar's desire for cruelty that seems to have saved Glorfindel, for he was so very slow as he pierced Glorfindel. It meant that our help arrived in time to stop Angmar.' Saeldir breathed deeply and then said more quietly. 'Thank Elbereth, it was not too late. We pulled him back from the Shadow.'

Tindómion felt cold in his belly. Like stone.

'Come. Elrohir must tell you part of this as well.' Saeldir clasped his shoulder kindly and steered him towards Elrohir who had sunk back on the cold ground and was sitting, knees drawn up and shoulders hunched.

'Gently with Elrohir,' Saeldir cautioned as they approached. 'He is weak from it. Remember how he was when Elrond had him help with Elladan.'

Tindómion nodded, and reached down to touch Elrohir lightly on his arm.

Looking up, Elrohir blinked almost owlishly,as if he were not quite awake. 'Tindómion!' His exclamation seemed half relieved and half anxious, guilty almost.

Saeldir was struggling to sit down and so Tindómion helped him to right himself and lay the crutch nearby. Sighing, Saeldir stretched out his leg. It was then that Tindómion saw the bloody bandage around his lower leg. More softly, more gently than he felt, Tindómion settled beside them and turned to Elrohir expectantly.

Elrohir looked exhausted. His eyes were half closed and dull and his mouth a thin, tight line. His hands were cupped around a tin mug with some athelas tea steaming its light fragrance. Tindómion's head cleared a little and he saw things as they were: Elrohir had healed Glorfindel, called him back from the Shadow as Saeldir said. But he could not have done this on his own; he had needed Elrond to help him with Elladan. He peered at his friend more intently, feeling a growing anxiety in his chest.

At that moment, Annael chose to join them. His steps were quick and light in spite of the blood smudged on his cheek. He had four bowls of soup in his hands and cleverly arranged along his arms.

'Foul Beast Stew,' he joked weakly, and handed a bowl to Tindómion.

But Tindómion deliberately set his aside and leaned back, his eyes now upon Saeldir, expectant and cool. 'Who is the stranger we saw with Elrohir a moment ago?' he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, and Saeldir shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting towards Elrohir.

Unaware, Annael plonked himself next to Elrohir and took the cup from Elrohir's hands, pushed a bowl into them instead.

'You saw him?' Annael's eyes were shining. He took a mouthful of lembas as he spoke, crumbs dropped from his mouth as he spoke and he brushed them from his tunic. Saeldir gave a warning growl and Elrohir's eyes were wide with alarm, but Annael was lost in admiration and too far gone to heed either of them. 'The Mithlond Elves say it is Maglor and I for one, believe it. Did you not see how Eärendil shone upon him, Saeldir?' he gushed. 'And that armour could only be from the First Age. Was he not glorious? Just as my father described him to me when I was little.'

Tindómion's heart pounded and his belly churned. He thought he might be sick. Maglor. Here?

'Annael.' Saeldir's voice was low and warning. It cut through the miasma that seemed to descend upon Tindómion,fogged his thoughts so that all he could think of was that his father had been here, breathing the same air! And had not even paused, not even turned to look at him, not even stayed to give him one word! He felt his fists clench and his teeth ground.

'Galdor said it too,' Annael sounded aggrieved now, looking at Saeldir accusingly.

'Annael!'

'It is not only me who says this. Some of the Mithlond warriors wanted to pursue him, to stop him but others wanted to speak to him, like me. Galdor would not let them. He said they owe him a blood debt now though others said he already owed it and there was still much to pay.' He stuffed another wafer of lembas into his mouth.

'Will you stop talking!' Saeldir reached over and thumped Annael on the arm, gestured violently towards Tindómion who said nothing but closed his mouth tightly.

Annael glanced up and suddenly stopped.

'Shit.' He closed his eyes mortified. 'I am a fool. Forgive me.'

But Tindómion had turned his face towards Elrohir, his face hard. 'My father has been here?'