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Tâd Edhel a Firion   by Fiondil

III: Haven’t Got Time for the Naeg

"Elrond! Over here!" Glorfindel waved at the Lord of Imladris who was searching for Estel further down the mountain.

It was Glorfindel who had realized that Estel had somehow veered away from the path that Elrond had made, easy enough to do, he reflected as he left Asfaloth and the packhorse marking the place while he continued on to find Elrond. The path itself had shifted slightly to the right but in the blinding snow Estel had continued straight and straight led right to a cliff. He had met Elrond coming back, for the elf-lord had also somehow realized that Estel was no longer behind him. The two elves made their way back to the horses, both standing patiently where Glorfindel had left them.

"He went straight instead of turning right," Glorfindel had explained to Elrond, shouting over the storm. "Probably didn’t even realize what he was doing. I just hope he didn’t go as far as the cliff edge."

Elrond looked stricken at the thought but simply nodded. "Can you follow the path he made?"

"Barely. It’s almost covered with snow but I suspect that if he didn’t encounter any obstacles he would just continue in a straight line. The horse would sense the cliff before Estel and would have stopped. Let’s hope Estel had the sense to listen to Mithfaron."

So saying, Glorfindel took the lead but he had not gone very far when he stopped. Motioning to Elrond he shouted, "It’s no good, Elrond. The tracks are completely gone. We’re going to have to wait until this storm passes otherwise we’re as likely to miss him as not."

Elrond chafed at the delay but knew that they had no choice, so he nodded and the two elves sought a nearby stand of pine trees where they huddled under the branches, the three horses standing in front of them acting as a windbreak. Neither spoke, each alone in his thoughts and worries about the youngest member of their party, now lost in the storm. Elrond wondered what he would say to Gilraen if he had to return to Imladris with her son’s body. Glorfindel, on the other hand, was remembering the crossing of the Helcaraxë all those long millennia ago, the bitter cold and the constant snow. It had been a brutal time and many had perished. None who had survived that hell had ever forgotten nor ever forgiven those who had left them behind to brave the Grinding Ice. He feared for the young Dúnadan, and his own body ached in sympathy for the cold the lad must feel, if he was indeed feeling anything.

Moments passed into eternity but slowly, almost imperceptibly, the wind began to die down and the snow fell less heavily. After several more minutes it stopped altogether, though the clouds still hung over them, dark and threatening.

"I’ll go right," Glorfindel said as the two elves stirred themselves. Elrond merely grunted in agreement and headed left, moving further down the mountain, looking for any sign that horse or Man had been this way, but it was Glorfindel who found the first clue.

"He came this way," Glorfindel pointed at a pile of horse droppings, now frozen, as Elrond neared. "He has to be around here somewhere. Estel! Where are you? Estel!" he shouted, his voice reverberating in the cold stillness.

They listened, hearing nothing at first and then, "Do you hear that?" whispered Elrond. "That was a horse’s neigh. It came from over there," he pointed down towards where the mountain had thrust up a wall of rock that blocked their view.

"Stay here," Glorfindel ordered, quite forgetting to whom he was speaking, as he grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows. "I’ll check it out." Then without waiting for Elrond to respond he went downwards to the upthrust of rock, walking lightly upon the newly fallen snow. Elrond watched in frustrated amusement as the captain of his guards moved cautiously towards the sound they had heard, hoping against hope that Estel was there with Mithfaron, assuming that it was Estel’s horse they had heard.

Glorfindel reached the rock wall and moved slowly around, an arrow nocked just in case, then relaxed visibly when he saw the grey gelding patiently standing there with a look that seemed to ask what had taken the elf so long. Glorfindel smiled and spoke softly to the steed as he approached, his palm up for the horse to smell. "So, my Grey Hunter, just where did young Estel get himself to, heh?"

The horse whinnied and took a step forward, almost as if he were pointing towards the cliff edge. Feeling somewhat sick to his stomach Glorfindel made his way past the horse to look down, dreading what he would see, and at first he did not see anything except a small snow-covered valley nestled between two folds of the mountain. Then his elvish eyes noticed a large hump of snow about twenty feet down in among a stand of pine trees, and protruding from the mound of snow he could just make out one leg. The elf closed his eyes briefly, sending a prayer winging to the Valar that the lad was still alive, and, of course, there were no eagles about to bring Estel up, which meant he and Elrond would have to do it themselves. Speaking of Elrond....

Glorfindel moved back around the wall and motioned for Elrond to come down, which the elf-lord did, bringing their horses with him. Without a word Glorfindel led him to the cliff edge and pointed down. Elrond’s only response was a tightening of his lips, but the pain in his fëa was evident in his eyes from the tears that threatened to come.

"We need to get down there and make sure," Elrond said quietly.

Glorfindel nodded and went over to the packhorse and found some rope in one of the bags it carried. "I’ll go down," he said. "I’m lighter than you are and you’ll need to bring us both up."

Elrond started to protest, but stopped when he saw Glorfindel’s expression and knew that he would only be wasting precious time arguing, so as hard as it was to acknowledge what Glorfindel had said was true, he nodded his acceptance and helped his captain to secure one end of the rope about a pinnacle of rock standing not far from the cliff edge. Before Glorfindel could start down, however, Elrond grabbed his bag of medicinals and thrust them into the elf’s hands.

"You may need this," Elrond said quietly, pain lacing through his voice at the thought that it might well be too late for any medicines, but Glorfindel smiled encouragingly.

"He’s alive, Elrond, if injured. Have faith that it is so." Then he slipped the bag’s strap over his shoulder and grabbing the rope, made his way down the face of the cliff.

Estel had not fallen straight down, he noticed, but had managed to fall somewhat away from the cliff so that he had landed where the snow lay thickest, and from the looks of it he must have also hit the outer branches of one of the taller pines, for many of them were broken off and lying about. It’s possible that hitting the branches might have helped to slow the lad’s descent.

Reaching the bottom of the valley, Glorfindel made his way to the mound of snow and feared that Estel might have suffocated if the snow had completely covered him, but to his relief he found that the lad had somehow landed so that his head and shoulders were underneath the trees where the snowfall was much less and it had barely covered his face. Brushing off what snow covered his head, Glorfindel felt for a pulse, but he could not feel anything. Cursing to himself, he opened up Elrond’s bag and rummaged around for the small mirror he knew was in there, used to see if a person was still breathing and, after finding it, placed it under Estel’s nose. At first there was nothing and Glorfindel feared the worst, but then a faint mist of breath clouded the tiny mirror and he breathed his own sigh of relief.

"Hang on, pen neth nîn," he whispered to the unconscious mortal, "we’ll get you out of this soon." Then, moving back out from under the trees he stood up and waved to Elrond. "He’s alive, but unconscious. I’m going to check for injuries and make a travois that we can use to haul him up."

Elrond nodded. "I’ll send down blankets and get a fire started."

Glorfindel went back to Estel and began removing the rest of the snow from his body so he could check for any injuries. There did not appear to be any blood loss, though his body was unnaturally cold to the touch. If Glorfindel hadn’t seen that faint sigh of breath on the mirror he would have sworn the lad was dead. As he continued to examine the body for broken bones Estel moaned and his eyes fluttered open.

Glorfindel stopped and went to him, laying a comforting hand on his forehead. "Estel, it’s Glorfindel. You’re going to be all right. Can you hear me, pen neth?"

"Gl-glorfindel?" Estel’s voice was barely above a whisper but loud enough for the elf to hear. "Wh-what are you doing here? D-did you fall off the mountain, too?"

The relief the elf felt at those words was too much for even him to handle and even while Estel sank back into unconsciousness Glorfindel found himself laughing hysterically at the lad’s words, all the tensions and fears of the last few hours finally taking their toll.

"Glorfindel, what in Elbereth’s name is going on down there?" Elrond shouted from above, the frustration in his voice obvious even from a distance.

Glorfindel forced himself to stop laughing and moved back into the open. "He’s regained consciousness, if only for a moment. Wanted to know if I’d fallen off the mountain too."

"Well, unless you want me to push you off this mountain, hurry it up. He needs warmth and food. What are his injuries?"

"Nothing broken as far as I can tell, but I suspect he’s going to be one large bruise for the next few days. I’m going to start working on the travois now."

Elrond nodded. "Here are the blankets and I’ve included a bottle of miruvor. Give him some of it. It should help."

"Good. I looked for some in your bag but couldn’t find it."

Elrond lowered the blankets and Glorfindel grabbed them, carefully untying them and the small bottle of cut glass that contained the precious miruvor. He took everything over to Estel, who was still unconscious, and wrapped him up with the blankets. Then, carefully lifting the lad’s head, he called out Estel’s name several times until the young Man began to respond then pressed the miruvor to his lips and bade him drink, which he did before slipping back into unconsciousness, though now Glorfindel noticed that color was returning to the lad’s body and his pulse became steadier as the cordial did its work.

Satisfied, Glorfindel began gathering the broken branches and with his knife began trimming them, singing softly as he worked. In short order he had the frame made and as gently as he could he lifted the still unconscious mortal and laid him in the travois, securing him with rope before heading towards the bottom of the cliff, dragging the travois behind him. Once there, he tied it to the rope from which he had descended and when all was secured he yelled up to the waiting Elrond.

"He’s still unconscious, which is to the good, as this is going to be a bumpy ride up for him. He’s as secure as I can make him. Throw me another rope and I will climb up alongside him just in case."

Elrond nodded and shortly thereafter, as the Master of Imladris slowly pulled the travois up the cliff face, Glorfindel climbed up next to it, occasionally putting out a hand to steady it. It was not a long distance, but it seemed to take forever. Luckily, Estel remained unconscious throughout.

Once up on top, the two elves brought the travois over to a fire that Elrond had started, well away from the cliff’s edge, on the other side of the rock wall where it was more sheltered. Glorfindel handed the medicinal bag back to Elrond and the healer made a quick but thorough examination of his foster son and determined that except for a possible sprain in the young Man’s left wrist and some lacerations at the back of his head from when he hit the pine branches, there did not seem to be any major injuries, but he found the continued unconsciousness worrying.

"He may be concussed," Elrond said to Glorfindel. "I would like it better if he had stayed awake. There is the danger of him slipping into a coma if he remains unconscious for too much longer."

"Do you want to try to rouse him, then?" Glorfindel asked as he gently stroked Estel’s forehead.

Elrond shook his head. "I would prefer he awaken naturally, but if he has not stirred in another hour, now that he is more comfortable, I have some gîl-e-geven which should bring him around and then we will see if we can’t get some liquids down him."

"I can make a meat broth if you like."

"Yes, thank you. And boil some tea as well. I know I can certainly use some and it is nearly dark. I little like this place for a camp but I don’t want to move him too much at this stage."

"Well, I’ve camped in worse, and so have you, so I think we can survive one night here. Perhaps tomorrow we can find a better location. I’ll start putting together some broth."

With that Glorfindel went about securing the necessary ingredients for the broth while Elrond ran his hands over Estel, singing softly, sending healing into the battered body of his foster son, even as the sun set and night hastened in. After a while he stopped, adjusting the blankets around Estel’s body and checked the young Man’s pulse again. Satisfied, he stood up to stretch. Glorfindel was busy on the other side of the fire stirring the broth and making the tea. The whinnying of Tologyll off to one side of their camp reminded him that the four horses also needed to be tended to and he stepped away from the fire to speak to the steeds and see to their needs.

It was while Elrond was busy with the horses and Glorfindel was pouring out the tea that Estel stirred, moaning in pain as he came back to consciousness.

"Gl-glorfindel?" Estel moaned.

The golden-haired elf stopped what he was doing and knelt beside Estel, stroking his hair. "I’m right here, Estel. How are you feeling?"

"Hurt," was the one word reply.

"I just bet you do, pen neth," Glorfindel said with a smile in his voice. "Here, drink some of this tea. It’ll help and later I’ll give you some broth."

"Wh-what happened? Is Mi-mithfaron all right?" Estel asked after taking a sip or two of the tea. It had never tasted so wonderful as it did at that moment.

"Oh yes, Mithfaron is just fine and no doubt wondering at his rider’s mental deficiency. I think next time you’ll listen to your horse before stepping off a mountain, neh? He has much more sense than you do, apparently." He kept his voice teasingly light, though the import of his words was serious.

"I-is Adar angry at me?" Estel’s voice was almost plaintive.

"Angry? Elrond?" Glorfindel feigned shock. "Nonsense. Why he’s having the time of his life."

"I am?" Elrond called out softly from where he was brushing down Asfaloth so only Glorfindel could hear, his voice sounding amused.

"He is?" Estel asked, sounding doubtful.

"Oh, yes," Glorfindel answered brightly, quite ignoring Elrond as the elf-lord rejoined them at the fire. "Why I haven’t seen him have this much fun since... well, since the siege of Barad-dûr."

"That much, huh?" Elrond quipped as he sat down next to Estel.

Glorfindel continued ignoring the Lord of Imladris as he helped Estel to drink some more tea. Estel could see Elrond over the rim of his mug smiling at him, then he cast his eyes towards Glorfindel as if wondering if he were the object of some elvish joke between his adar and his friend. As he lay back down, though, a ghost of a smile crossed his face and he motioned for Glorfindel to come closer and, sure that his foster father would have no difficulty hearing him, whispered loudly, "If that’s the case, I think we need to get Adar out more."

Glorfindel threw back his head and laughed and Elrond joined him.

"That’s the spirit, pen neth," Glorfindel said.

"Let me take a look at you, iôn nîn," Elrond said, coming over to check Estel’s condition. He had the young Man follow the movement of his finger and made him sit up, which he was able to do with a little help, complaining of feeling bruised, but the world did not spin and his eyes remained focused, if full of pain.

"Try to have some of this broth, and then I’ll give you something to relieve the pain, though I suspect you’re going to be sore for a while."

Glorfindel handed Elrond a bowl of the broth and a spoon and the elf-lord began to feed Estel, much to that young Man’s disgust. "I can feed myself, Adar," he exclaimed, trying to take the bowl from Elrond’s hands, but Elrond neatly evaded him.

"I’m sure you can, Estel. Just indulge me for a bit."

Estel gave a sigh, then glanced at Glorfindel and said sourly, "Definitely has to get out more."

The two elves merely laughed and Elrond continued feeding his foster son until the bowl was empty. Afterwards, he made a decoction from rîf-e-dathar to help relieve some of the pain in Estel’s body before allowing him to lie down again.

"Will we go on tomorrow?" Estel asked as he found a comfortable position. "Frankly, I don’t want to stay on this mountain any longer than I have to."

"We’ll see how you feel in the morning," Elrond replied, refusing to commit himself, "before deciding if we will go on or remain here for another day or two. I would prefer it if we could at least move further down to the foothills tomorrow. I think it will be warmer in the valleys below and therefore more comfortable, but it will depend on how you are feeling."

Estel sighed, feeling frustrated and somewhat embarrassed by the whole thing, but decided it wasn’t worth arguing about, so he nodded and closed his eyes, letting the medicine do its work, finally drifting off to sleep to the sound of Glorfindel and Elrond singing softly over him.

****

The next morning dawned bright and clear, if cold. When Estel finally awoke the sun was already two-thirds of the way up the sky, climbing towards noon. Glorfindel was nowhere in sight but Elrond was carefully pouring some hot liquid into a small cut-glass bottle. Without looking up from his work, he greeted his foster son.

"Fair morning, iôn nîn, and how are you feeling this morning?"

Estel moved slowly, fearing the pain he had felt the night before, but he felt merely sore, as if he had over-exerted himself on the training field. Stretching experimentally, he yawned. "I could use a hot bath right about now."

Elrond smiled as he placed the enamel pan down and corked the vial, sealing it with a thin coating of wax, before putting it aside to cool next to three other vials already filled. "Baths are out, I’m afraid, but I think we can manage some hot water for washing. Do you need to get up?"

Estel nodded and with a little help from Elrond managed to rise, if a bit unsteadily. His body ached and he limped a bit as circulation slowly returned to his extremities, but otherwise he managed well enough and soon was back beside the fire, sipping on tea laced with honey and munching on some waybread. Meanwhile, Elrond heated water in the largest of their cooking pots and found a sliver of soap scented with lavender and a towel for Estel to use. It was a brief affair and not quite satisfying, but the hot water felt good and he felt marginally better afterwards.

While he was washing he asked after Glorfindel, who still had not appeared.

"Glorfindel is out hunting," Elrond said as he helped Estel off with his tunic so he could wash and Elrond could check his bruises, which looked uglier than they felt. "And scouting for a better campsite further down the mountain. We really need to get down to the foothills. This area is too exposed and the horses are restless. They sense something they don’t like."

"What do you suppose they sense?"

Elrond shrugged. "Goblins, perhaps, or even wargs. It’s hard to tell. Most of the goblins in these mountains were destroyed fifteen years ago during the Battle of Five Armies, but there have been reports of small colonies starting up again. You don’t have any cracked ribs that I can see. How do you feel otherwise?"

"My chest feels tight and I find it hard to draw in a breath. Are you sure I don’t have any broken ribs?"

Elrond shook his head. "I can give you some more willow bark tea to relieve the constriction in your chest. I suspect it’s mostly due to residual pain more than anything else. And I have some mîdhaear oil that you can rub into your extremities. That should soothe any muscle pain you may have as well."

So saying, he went about making another decoction of the willow bark tea and when it was ready bade Estel to drink, giving him also a small jar of oil, then returned to the task he was performing when Estel awoke.

"What are you making, Adar?"

"Hmm. Some medicks from the plants I harvested in the woods below the mountain. It’s best to make these tinctures when the plants are relatively fresh."

"Do you really think we’ll need all of these on this journey?" Estel asked skeptically as he opened the jar and began rubbing the oil into his flesh, its pungent smell permeating the air.

Elrond smiled. "A healer can never have enough medicks, iôn nîn, as well you know. And I prepare these not in anticipation of needing them on our journey, but in anticipation that they may be needed sometime in the future. Better to have a medick that is never used, than to need it and not have any on hand. I’ve learned that rule from bitter experience."

Estel looked thoughtful as he continued sipping his willow bark tea and watched his adar take some leaves of a plant unfamiliar to him and add it and some athelas to the water boiling on the fire, stirring it occasionally. When he had finished the tea, Estel stood up to stretch.

"I’m feeling pretty useless. Isn’t there anything I can do to help?"

Elrond shook his head with a smile. "You might consider apologizing to Mithfaron for acting as idiotic as you did yesterday."

Estel frowned. "You don’t think I’m idiotic, do you?"

Elrond chuckled. "No, iôn nîn, I don’t, but your horse does and he might not be too happy to bear you unless you tell him you’re sorry and won’t do anything that stupid ever again."

"Or at least not for a very long while."

Estel turned to see Glorfindel riding towards them from above. He was carrying his bow and had a buck strapped to Asfaloth’s hind quarters.

"I see you found dinner," Elrond said. "What of the path?"

"Clear and we’re further down the mountain than I first thought. If we can be on our way within the hour we can be off this mountain by sunset."

"Yes!" Estel exclaimed, and then amended his response with a diffident tone. "That is, if you think we should, Adar."

The two elves smiled at one another in amusement at that and Elrond nodded. "I think we can manage. Why don’t you see to the horses while I finish up here and Glorfindel dresses the buck."

With that they all went to their appointed tasks and within the hour they were indeed breaking camp, heading across the face of the mountain towards the path that would take them down into the foothills. They only made one stop to rest the horses and have something to eat before moving on, so that by the time the sun was lowering towards the horizon they had come among the trees and were looking for a place to camp for the night. The path off the mountain joined with a wider road, the Old Forest Road, also known as the Men-i-Naugrim, for it had been often used by the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm. The road crossed the Anduin below the Carrock and wended its way through Mirkwood south of the Emyn-nu-Fuin, to come out at the other end where the River Celduin began turning east to join with the River Carnen above the lands of Dorwinion. Within Mirkwood itself though the road was no longer used, for Khazad-dûm was no more and the Dwarves of the Iron Hills and the Lonely Mountain used other roads for trade. Also, with the coming of the Shadow into the southern reaches of the forest, it had become too dangerous. Not even Thranduil’s elven patrols went that far south anymore.

According to Elrond, though, they would use the road for a bit, turning north before it entered the forest to follow the edge of the woods to Annon-e-Daur, the Forest Gate that marked the western end of the Râd-en-Edhel, the Elf Path.

"We are bound to meet up with one of Thranduil’s patrols," Elrond had said when the three had discussed their route back in Imladris. "In which case, we will have nothing to fear of spiders or other such creatures of the Shadow. But you must be careful not to drink or bathe from any stream that crosses the path, Estel. Thranduil has more than his patrols as safeguards to his kingdom."

But that was still days away. For now they needed to find a place to camp for the night and Glorfindel found a quiet dell just off the road. Looking about Estel could see evidence that this dell had been used in previous times as a campsite, for a fire pit could be seen and someone had even stacked some wood for future use, though from the looks of things it did not seem anyone had used the place for quite some time.

"Probably the last people to use this place were Mithrandir and Bilbo on their way back from Erebor," Glorfindel muttered to Elrond as they set about making camp. Estel had been quiet for most of the trip down the mountain and even now was tending to the horses without his usual chatter. Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Later, after dinner, Estel insisted he was well enough to take the first watch and Elrond agreed. Glorfindel decided to stay up for a while to keep the Man company but Elrond, who had not slept much the night before, decided to turn in early. Glorfindel had agreed to take the second watch, so as to give Elrond more time for sleep, which the elf-lord appreciated, for he had been stinting himself since Estel had become ill.

After a time when Estel and Glorfindel merely sat in companionable silence, Glorfindel finally said, "You’ve been very quiet today, Estel. What’s wrong?"

Estel did not speak immediately, but after a brief sigh, replied with a question of his own. "Do you think I’m incompetent or perhaps just stupid?"

"Neither," the elf said, surprised. "You’re young, even by mortal standards, let alone elven ones, but as for being incompetent or stupid...Why do you even think that?"

Estel sighed again, idly stirring the fire with a stick. "Ever since I’ve been on this journey I’ve done everything wrong. I’m usually not so inept. I mean, this past spring I led the Dúnedain against the Gwathuirim who were harrying the East Road without falling out of my saddle, so to speak, but I’ve done nothing but since coming with you and Adar on this trip."

"Estel—no, Aragorn—what happened to you could have happened to anyone, or at least to any mortal. Mortals get sick."

"But I’ve never been sick in my life!"

Glorfindel merely raised his eyebrows at that.

"Well, almost never," the young Man amended, blushing.

"And almost never doesn’t count, does it?" the elf smiled knowingly. The two were silent for a moment before Glorfindel said, "Look, I know you think you’re being idiotic, but you’re not. Unlucky, if you believe in luck, maybe, but you’re not stupid and you’re not incompetent. You forget who trained you, and I don’t train people to be incompetent. This has merely been a series of misfortunes."

"I don’t think falling off a cliff should be considered a mere misfortune," Estel replied sardonically.

"Oh? And what would you call it?"

"Rank stupidity of the highest order."

"Yes, well perhaps," Glorfindel chuckled, "but I think it was more a consequence of you having been ill earlier. You weren’t thinking straight and you made a bad choice. Had you been in better health you might not have done what you did."

"Or I might have even so."

"I think you’re being too hard on yourself, pen neth," Glorfindel said with a smile. "And if you want an example of rank stupidity you need look no further than your adar over there."

"Adar!" Estel said in surprise, glancing across the fire to where Elrond was lost in dreams. "Adar’s not stupid!"

"Normally not, but he has been known to suffer a lack of judgment now and again, as do we all." Glorfindel stood up and poured more tea into his mug before settling down next to Estel.

"What did Adar do?" Estel finally whispered, not sure he wanted to hear something that would impugn the elf-lord’s reputation.

Glorfindel did not speak at first, sipping on his tea, gathering his thoughts. Finally, he replied, "Elrond was well into his second millennium and had been Gil-galad’s herald for some time when Sauron began to overrun Eriador and besiege Ost-en-Edhil. Gil-galad sent Elrond with an army to the aid of the elves of Eregion and with him was Erestor, who acted as Elrond’s chief scout."

"Erestor?" Estel asked in disbelief.

"Oh yes. You only know him as the irascible administrator of Imladris, but he was one of Gil-galad’s best scouts long before that."

"And were you there, with Adar, I mean?"

"Yes, I was there and wishing I were anywhere else but."

"So what did Adar do that was so, uhm, you know...."

"Stupid?" Glorfindel finished for him with a light laugh. "Well, let me tell you...."

****

"What do you mean we’re lost?"

Glorfindel glared at Gil-galad’s herald as they stood there in the pouring rain, the rest of Elrond’s army standing dejectedly about them, looking as miserable as he felt. "Lost, an adjective, unable to find one’s way, like this army, misplaced, like Gil-galad’s trust in you, no longer in one’s possession, like your mind, unable to act—"

"All right, all right!" Elrond raised his hands in defeat. "Valar! I get your point. What I meant was, how do you know we’re lost?"

"Morgoth’s balls, Elrond! Look around! Do you see anything remotely like the hills we should be looking at according to Erestor’s last missive? No. Instead, what do we have? Mud, and more mud. We’re lost, plain and simple."

"But the map—"

"Maps can be wrong. In fact, it’s been my experience that they very often are. Why did you not follow Erestor’s instructions? What’s the point of having a scout if you’re not going to listen to what he tells you? Honestly, Elrond, Gil-galad didn’t give you Erestor on a whim; he assigned him to you because he’s the best scout you’re ever likely to find. The least you can do is have the courtesy—and the brains—to listen to him!"

Elrond wiped futilely at the rain dripping down into his eyes and glowered back at his second-in-command. More like elfling-minder, he thought to himself sourly, wondering if he shouldn’t just give command of the army over to Glorfindel, who obviously had more experience in such matters than he did.

As if reading his thoughts, Glorfindel shook his head. "Command of this army is yours, Eärendilion. Yours are the decisions, but commanders need to remember that they don’t have all the answers. That’s what advisors are for, and I’m advising you to forget the damn map and listen to what Erestor tells you. He knows this land better than anyone, especially you who have never been east of Lindon before now."

Now Elrond grimaced in embarrassment. Suddenly he felt as if he really were still an elfling being reprimanded by one of his tutors for failing to follow instructions. He sighed and glanced around through the downpour at the ellyn standing about listening with unabashed interest at their argument. "Never argue in front of the troops", he could hear Círdan telling him, and he and Glorfindel were doing just that, though, truth to tell, there wasn’t much point in finding somewhere private to talk because they were out in the open surrounded by swampland, the mud from the incessant rain almost up to their knees.

He looked again at Glorfindel and nodded. "What do you suggest we do?"

"First sensible thing you’ve said all day," Glorfindel snarled, then, relented somewhat. "Why don’t we find somewhere where there’s less mud?"

For the first time in days Elrond actually smiled. "I believe the water is less muddy over there," pointing to a spot three paces to the right where the mud did indeed appear to be only marginally less deep than it was where they were presently standing.

Glorfindel looked to where Elrond was pointing then turned back to his commander with a smile of his own and before long they were both laughing, joined by the warriors surrounding them, but the mood was quickly dampened when thunder rumbled above them and the rain seemed to fall even harder, if that was at all possible.

Raising his fists in frustration, the golden-haired elf yelled, "And will someone turn off this thrice-bedamned rain!"

At once, or so it seemed, the rain did indeed stop, and the clouds, though still purple-black and ominous-looking, began breaking up and a single ray of sunlight struck the place where Glorfindel stood, as if being kissed by Arien herself. The warriors, mostly Sindar and Silvan, stared at the golden-haired Noldo in awe. Even the few Noldor among them suddenly remembered who this elf was and where he had come from and involuntarily stepped back with the rest, Elrond included. Glorfindel, ignoring them all and acting as if commanding the weather was all in a day’s work, grabbed his hair into a single braid and wrung the water out before throwing his head back, placing his hands on his hips and smiling with a radiance that rivaled the sun.

"There. That’s better."

****

"Oh, Valar, oh that hurts," Estel wrapped his arms about him, holding on, trying not to laugh, but failing miserably, the pain in his chest making him dizzy. "You made that up."

"Oh no," Glorfindel grinned. "Every word of it is true."

"Did Adar really get the army lost? I can’t believe that."

"Not only did he get us lost but we were nearly two weeks climbing out of that mudhole he led us into before we were able to find the correct path that Erestor had laid out for us."

"But Adar is so, so self-assured and he always knows what to do."

"Now, but back then he was still a novice in the art of warfare, for all that he had been involved in the War of Wrath, but that was mainly as a healer and he did not lead any troops, though he did fight when necessary. No," Glorfindel shook his head, glancing fondly at Elrond’s body lying in deep sleep, "Your adar had much to learn, as do you. So give yourself credit for perseverance if for nothing else. The rest will come in time."

"Thank you, Glorfindel."

"My pleasure. Now, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll cover the rest of your watch for you. Go on," he shooed the young Man with his hands when Estel hesitated. "I’ve had more rest than either you or Elrond, so I’m fine."

Estel nodded, then found his bedroll and carefully lay down, soon fast asleep.

"Why do you insist on putting yourself in the best light, mellon nîn?" Elrond asked without rising, having waited to ask his question until Estel was fast asleep.

"So you heard that, did you?" Glorfindel smiled. "The answer to your question, mellon nîn, is that I’m practically perfect in every way, so naturally I’m always in the best light."

"I’ll remember that the next time you trip over Elrohir’s foot," Elrond replied with a soft chuckle.

"Go back to sleep, Elrond," Glorfindel said. "I’ll wake you soon enough."

Within a few minutes Glorfindel was the only one awake, listening to the soft night songs of the trees and communing joyously with the stars above.

****

Naeg: Pain.

Fëa: Spirit or soul (though, according to Tolkien, not quite either).

Gîl-e-geven: Star of the Earth; an alternate common name for Bennet (Geum urbanum), a perennial that has been used by herbalists as a restorative.

Rîf e-dathar: Willow bark, from the white willow (Salix alba). Its natural pain-reducing properties has been known for at least two thousand years, and was only recently replaced as a popular remedy by the synthetic aspirin, which contains a similar ingredient found naturally in the bark of this tree.

Mîdhaear: Literally, "dew of the sea", the actual meaning of the Rosemary plant (Rosmarinus officinalis), the oil of which is used as a salve for wounds and bruises.

Gwathuirim: Dunlendings, people of Dunland, literally "shadow-people".

Ellyn: Plural of ellon: Male elf.

Note: The story Glorfindel tells Estel about Elrond was inspired by a scene in Nilmandra's excellent "History Lessons: Second Age", but you'll have to find it.





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