8

Thranduil thought he caught some movement far ahead. It was too far too see clearly but something was there. He stroked his horse's neck and bent to whisper to him yet again. He knew the horse sensed his agitation and he silently thanked him as he felt the animal's gait speed up just a fraction.

They continued to ride, as the sun moved overhead, mid-day passing into afternoon.

There was no sign of any other riders ahead that Thranduil could see now. The trail was still clear but as he followed it ahead he realized there was a change. He raised his hand and the company slowed to a halt.

He dismounted quickly and looked at the trail, Lossendir joining him. "The warg tracks are muddled here, Lossendir." Thranduil stated, catching sight of the path branching off, as Glorfindel had earlier in the day. He brought his voice down to a bare whisper in Lossendir's ear. "Orc tracks leave the main trail. Leave a guard with the horses here. We follow this track now." Lossendir nodded and moved slightly away. Thranduil drew his two swords, as his men moved behind him, ready to follow this new trail.

"Hir-nin." said a voice and Thranduil froze. It was coming from ahead, not behind. Some thick hedges hugged the mountain as the trail curved around. Thranduil stared into the hedges, motioning for his men to hold behind him. He wanted no stray arrows flying yet. Thranduil gazed in shock as Randir materialized from the hedge to run to him and kneel at his feet, hand on his heart.

"Randir," Thranduil's voice broke on the name.

"Forgive me, my King." Randir bowed his head briefly then looked up at Thranduil. "Come my King, the Queen is here." And Randir lightly came to his feet, motioning Thranduil to follow him.

Thranduil felt his heart begin to race as he followed his guard around the mountain curve only to feel it seem to stop beating as he saw what lay behind that edge.

"Cyllessil." He breathed, racing ahead to throw himself down on the ground next to the unconscious form of his wife, barely registering that Glorfindel and the Peredhel were there.

"Thranduil!" Glorfindel grasped his shoulder tightly. "Thank the Valar you have found us. I had not hoped to find help along this road."

"Cyllessil." Thranduil repeated, his wife's hand enclosed in his one hand as his other stroked her forehead gently.

"Thranduil. She's seriously injured." He heard Elrohir next to him. "I've done what I can but we've got to get them to Ada." Thranduil had already felt the heat of her skin and seen the tinge of her lips. His heart had started pounding again at seeing her eyes stay closed, even as he said her name. He moved quickly, lifting Cyllessil into his arms and turning to face Glorfindel.

"You are making for Imladris?" He asked bluntly, cradling his wife's limp body to his chest, his eyes scanning and then stopping on Celebrian's form just a few feet away.

Glorfindel nodded. "Lothlorien may seem closer but the way through the High Pass will get us to Elrond faster." He paused. "We need to get them to Elrond, Thranduil. Their injuries are many but I fear the poison is what we cannot treat out here in the wild."

Poison. Thranduil's grip tightened on Cyllessil as his mind went blank to all but that word. He shook his head to clear it and looked at Glorfindel again. "I sent a rider to the Golden Wood. They should have found the ones left behind by now." Thranduil said, glancing at the position of the sun.

"Then we ride together to Imladris." Glorfindel turned his head. "Madirion, douse the fire." He turned back to Thranduil. "The orcs we have killed but the wargs are likely to return by sundown. We must not wait."

Thranduil nodded and moved to take Cyllessil to his horse. Glorfindel gripped his shoulder to make him pause. He stared into Thranduil's eyes, concern, kindness and sadness shining through. "Thranduil, I cannot promise you she will make it to Imladris," Glorfindel confided quietly. "I cannot be sure either of them will," he said, with a quick glance at Celebrian, Elladan now carrying her as Thranduil held Cyllessil.

Thranduil stared back at Glorfindel. "Thank you for rescuing my Cyllessil, Glorfindel. I am in your debt for that." He nodded his head briefly at the golden-haired elf. "Now let's get on the road," he added, moving towards the original trail and the horses waiting there.

The combined company took some time to get settled on horseback. Elrohir gave Thranduil a brief account of Cyllessil's injuries and his concerns, as Thranduil settled his wife in front of him and held her unconscious form to his chest in preparation for the ride.

"How fares Celebrian?" Thranduil asked Elrohir when he was done cataloguing Cyllessil's state. He could see Elladan positioning himself in a similar fashion on his horse, Celebrian cradled in front of him. Thranduil caught a brief look pass over Elrohir's face—anger, horror, fear—before he schooled his features to answer Thranduil.

"Much like Cyllessil." He answered shortly, then paused, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing briefly. "I fear she may be fading," he finished in a lower voice, meeting Thranduil's eyes quickly, before gazing at his mother again.

Thranduil flinched at the words and held Cyllessil tighter to him. He had not seen much of Celebrian, other than to note her damaged face as Elladan had lifted her. She was wrapped in a cloak and he could see little more now.

He had tried not to think of that possibility as he rode to find his wife. Had tried to keep it from his mind, knowing he could lose all control if he let his mind go that way. He knew that orcs rarely took captives and what it often meant when they did. He had shuddered from that thought earlier and it nearly overwhelmed him as he thought it now. But Cyllessil's clothing had been intact he said to himself, repeating it in his mind. He raised his eyes to Elrohir's and saw the Peredhel shake his head slightly.

"Not Cyllessil," he said to Thranduil, as if reading his thoughts. "It seems they were content to use only their knives and fists on her." He paused. "It looked as though she tried to fight them off. She had killed at least two in the cave that I saw and was set to strangle a third when we got there."

Thranduil gazed down at his wife and sighed gratefully. She had been spared that at least. He could not imagine she had not fought them. He knew she had killed at least one orc during the battle, his thoughts going to the knife he had found in the orc's throat earlier.

Elrohir's words came back to him then. "Not Cyllessil," he repeated, suddenly shooting his eyes to Elrohir's. "But Celebrian. . .?" he questioned.

Elrohir nodded. "I believe it is why she fades."

Thranduil's eyes softened as he looked at Elrohir. "I am so sorry, mellon-nin. I do not know what to say but I know I can never thank you enough for saving my wife."

Elrohir sighed. "I cannot forgive myself for allowing her to be captured, hir-nin. The least I could do was get her back." He looked around. "And I cannot guarantee I have saved her. We must get to my father. Glorfindel!" he called. "Are we ready to ride?"

Glorfindel approached them. "We make for Imladris through the High Pass. Do not spare the horses." He moved to the head of the company and raised his arm. "Now we ride!"