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Eruwaedhen and Uidor slowly staggered along. Their tongues were thick with thirst as they proceeded on their weary way, heedless of the great trees and forboding boulders that passed them by.
By a merciful chance, Eruwaedhen and Uidor, alone among the maidens, had landed in a thick hedge after falling from the cliff-top, and were spared the crushing death that had befallen the others.
Suddenly, they heard a horse galloping behind them. They spun around, and saw that it was Aearon. He was pale and weary, and his face full of anguish.
"We have lost our lady."
Eruwaedhen's heart sank. "She is dead, then?"
"Would that she were! Nay, a fate far worse than death has befallen her. She is taken captive. We must return to Imladris with all speed."
A few moments passed ere Eruwaedhen spoke again, attempting to change the subject. "It is well that you have found us."
Aearon reached into his saddlebags and brought out bread and a skin of water. "I had never seen so many orcs before in all my life," Aearon said, slowly shaking his head. "All the other times, we outnumbered our enemy. I do not wonder that this may be a sign of darkness to come." Aearon looked up at Eruwaedhen and Uidor. "That is why I did not believe we would be overcome by the orcs when I spoke of it yesterday evening."
The companions travelled thus: the stallion slowly trotting, bearing the maidens, while Aearon ran alongside, armed with bow and blade. In spite of his wounds, the Elf was quickly recovering, thanks to a healing potion that Eruwaedhen had administered.
For many days the companions journeyed north, unchecked by any foes. Now Aearon's head bandage had long been discarded, but the dried blood was still evident on his forehead, though the wound was healed.
"Aearon, you must wash your face," Eruwaedhen said that night as their horse rolled in the grass, its tack removed.
Aearon fixed her with a tired smile.
"It shan't take as long as you fancy." Eruwaedhen pointed to a mere a few yards distant. "You could wash in there."
Aearon sighed. "Very well."
Aearon stared into the water. The blood on his head was reflected in it. He dipped his hands into the cold brook and washed his face. The blood was removed. But my cowardice is not, Aearon thought.
"Verily a traitor thou art, deserting thy lady thus," he said through clenched teeth to himself. His head hung in shame, he trudged back to where Eruwaedhen was standing, gazing at the stars while quietly murmuring to herself the hymn to Elbereth. Uidor slept.
Ten days later, Elladan was reading one of his father's volumes concerning the Elder Days, and Elrohir was plotting on a map the probable location he reckoned his mother was at that time, when a pair of finches, a gift from Radagast the Brown, came flitting into the study and alighted on the table in front of them. It warbled insistently to the twins in the tongue of birds.
Elrohir, whom the Rhosgobel denizen had taught somewhat of the strange speech, turned to face his brother. "Brother, the company of Naneth has been attacked by Orcs, and all slain save for our mother, taken captive, and three others who were scattered and are even now making their way here.
Elladan's face grew hard and determined. "We must tell Ada!"
Elladan, Elrohir, Erestor, and a troop of other Elves set out east from Imladris with all speed. Lord Elrond had sent them forth.
On the third day the company rested in a small clearing. Erestor, on guard, suddenly glanced keenly into the brush.
"Halt!" Erestor cried. "Who goes there?"
"Aearon, servant of Lady Celebrían."
"Cast back your hood, that I may see your face."
Aearon threw his hood back and bowed his head slightly. "My lords. I greet you with joy and sadness. Much sorrow and loss have befallen us. We three alone" (here he beckoned for Eruwaedhen and Uidor to appear) "have survived the sudden onset of those accursed goblins in the Redhorn Pass." Briefly Aearon told of the attack. The newcomers were dismayed.
Elladan spoke up. "Eruwaedhen and Uidor, you must return home." He commanded the three youngest servants to accompany them.
"Yes, hîr vuin." The three servants rode back north.
"Aearon, we will need your services in leading us to the orc-hold. There, you will no doubt lend great aid in the rescue of our Lady."
Aearon, with shame in his heart but grimness on his face, nodded.
A/N: Hope you liked it! Reviews are appreciated and often responded to.
Sindarin translations:
Hîr vuin = My lord