Intermission

Time passed - 269 years, to be exact. Lathron grew and flourished under Elrond's care. His skill with the bow and blade improved enormously. By the time he was 20, he became Imladris' chief hunter, leading forays out into the Trollshaws to hunt game to bring back to Elrond's table. Despite this, Lathron never seemed to get on with the other Elves. Whether it was the memories of his past haunting him still, or a natural hardness of heart that had developed through facing so many hardships, he never truly befriended the other Elves, although he felt most comfortable around Elladan and Elrohir, who were closer to him in age. They and Elrond was his sole confidants.

As he aged, Elrond encouraged him to study the craft of the smiths and woodworkers there. With all the time in the world on his hands, he progressed rapidly. Eventually he crafted himself a bow of dark yew wood and two thin steel swords, which he was very proud of.

It was some while before he felt prepared to set out from Imladris and see the world, as he had intended. All of Eriador was now open to him, and he roved across the countries, visiting first the wilds of the Lone Lands and North Downs. He felt a kinship with these places, and the wilderness seemed to call to him. He spent nights alone atop Weathertop, gazing at the stars. He ran across the rolling hills of the North Downs, revelling in the wind on his face.

Then, he visited the bustling town of Bree. There, he saw his first Men, and the strange race - like Elves, but unlike - intrigued him. He spent many a night in the Prancing Pony, which was then but newly founded, developing a taste for Men's ale, although he was generally the dark stranger in the corner, rather than the life and soul of the party. Often, people were unaware they had met one of the fair folk.

Lathron also wandered the green, homely land of the Shire. He soon learnt that, small and humorous as the Hobbits were, they were fiercely mistrustful of anything they deemed 'unnatural', and Lathron, tall and beweaponed, dressed in dark cloaks and headscarves, fit that description perfectly to the Hobbits. More than once, he found himself chased off a farmer's land by an angry, pitchfork wielding Halfling, or packs of dogs. He knew they posed him no threat, but eventually he stayed out of sight when travelling through the Shire, or stayed on the east side of the Brandywine. The Brandybucks proved more hospitable, and he made himself known to them. It was from them that he heard tales of the Old Forest, and he roamed its borders, although he never went anywhere near the Withywindle Valley; the trees there unnerved him. Once, he thought he heard singing, but never found any sign of the singer, which troubled him, as his tracking skills were legendary among the Elves of Imladris. From there, he once ventured into the Barrow Downs. After that visit, he was determined never to return; Wights, even when seen from a distance through fog, were no pleasant encounter.

No matter where he travelled, Lathron had a deep seated fear of wolves. Their howls kept him awake at night if he heard them in the wilderness, and if he found their tracks, he would walk far around to avoid them. Nevertheless, he never hunted any creature needlessly, wolf or not, but in the Fell Winter of 2911, he found himself in the Shire when the Brandywine froze over and the white wolves invaded, he was happy to aid the Hobbits in driving them off, though they did not know it. He received no thanks, but the act in itself was reward enough.

He also could never quite bring himself to trust Dwarves. Oh, the travelling merchants he encountered on the road and in Bree were friendly enough, but his experiences at the hands of Skorgrím's folk left him deeply suspicious of their kind.

From the Shire to Imladris he roamed freely, but there were invisible bounds that he had set himself, which he would not cross. He never ventured far enough west to see the Ered Luin where he had lived long ago. The Misty Mountains, too, reminded him too much of home, and Eregion brought back memories of Talagan, so he would not venture into them.

In the year 2933, a Human woman and her son came to Imladris. It was the first time Lathron had seen their kind in the valley, and naturally he was intrigued. The woman, he learnt, was called Gilraen. Her son, Elrond said, was to be called Estel.

Estel grew fast, and soon wished to learn the ways of the sword and the bow. As the best hunter in Imladris, the task of teaching him fell to Lathron. The two became very close - Estel looked up to Lathron as a young boy, and as he grew older and entered manhood, they became fast friends. When Gilraen died, it was Lathron in whom the young man found solace. Eventually, however, Estel left Imladris to find his own way in the world, and so Lathron was once again alone. Estel, or Aragorn, as he was now beginning to call himself, returned to Imladris once or twice, but he always seemed distracted, as though his mind was somewhere else. Lathron also met the Grey Pilgrim several times during his travels, although only briefly. The old man in his robe and hat never stopped for long, but was always ready to provide conversation and advice for a short while, before striding off on his way.

In the Autumn of year 3016, Elrond received a troubling dream. Within the dream, he said, a voice spoke to him, conveying this riddle:

'Blood-red footsteps

Upon snow coloured black,

Where the Dour King walks

To take back his throne

And finish what was begun.'

There was much confusion within the Last Homely House as to what the riddle could mean, but one thing was certain to all - the 'Dour King' was Skorgrím.

Skorgrím - the very name sent shivers down Lathron's spine, and made his face ache. He had hoped never to hear it again, but Elrond was worried. There had been no word from Thorin's Hall for a long while. Not, in fact, since the Company of Thorin Oakenshield had set out to reclaim Erebor. Then, the message had been that Thorin had left his steward Gormr Doursmith in charge. The name awoke suspicions in the minds of Elrond and his folk - all was not well in the Ered Luin, and a party had to be sent to investigate. Elladan and Elrohir were to lead, but it was decided that, in the interests of safety, the group should be large. Those in the party would have to know the area around Thorin's Hall well, and have previous experience of dealing with Skorgrím's folk. Lathron's spirits fell when he realised the truth.

As winter drew in, as it had all those years ago, he shouldered his pack and, with heavy heart, took his last look at Imladris for what would be a long time to come.

He was going home.

And that's how you deal with a very dull, several hundred year gap in the narrative.

Hi all, my last upload of this batch, and it was a canonical nightmare, so I thought this would be a good place to stop. I am editing the next lot, don't worry. Actual narrative is so much more fun to write.

Favourite, review... oh, you know the drill by now.

Lathrond Aleniel, Elf Hunter, Firefoot Server.

Disclaimer: almost all of the names of people, places and general things are owned by Tolkien Enterprises, New Line Cinema or Warner Brothers, and are fictitious, or if real are used fictitiously and solely for the purposes of entertainment within boring disclaimers. The others are owned by me. Any similarity to any real life person, alive or dead, is probably almost but not quite certain to be entirely uncoincidental.