Disclaimer:

see chapter 1

Rating:

PG-13

Chapter 5:  got you

Erestor strode from the room and quickly crossed the antechamber hoping that no one gathered there would ask him about what was happening behind the surgery door. He was much too agitated to deal with the worried inhabitants of the Last Homely House right now. He was aware that this should be his job, since no information had been distributed thus far, but in his current state of mind he was hardly the right person to do this.

He shut the door behind him forcefully and leaned his head against the cool wood while closing his eyes. What had come over him? How could he have let these dark feelings creep into his consciousness and pull him under?

Long ago he had exchanged his sword for a quill and vowed that he would not fight again unless his life or the life of someone he cared for was directly threatened. He had promised that never again would he let feelings like hate and revenge rule him. Too much damage had been wrought in the past and too many deeds had been done that he did not want to repeat, much less remember.

But the events of the past hours had reawakened these dark feelings and, although more restrained than in former times, he did partly welcome them to fuel his anger. How dare these ruffians come into the Last Homely House, a place of peace and tranquillity and attack an elf ever intent on helping; an elf who had his very soul dedicated to care for all in need, be it men, elves or some other race?

Hearing someone coming down the corridor, Erestor quickly left and slipped into his suite only a few paces away from the healing ward. With a sigh he closed the door finally no longer forced to pretend. He sat on his bed and took deep calming breaths. He had control over himself again, but this would not stop him from pursuing the men and bringing them to justice. Elves abhorred any sort of killing, even if these subjects did deserve it, but he would take care that their kin would take steps to administer the rightful punishment to the thugs.

Calm by now he opened the top drawer of his cupboard and removed a pair of black leggings and a tunic of the same colour, clothing he had not worn in centuries. After a short inspection he donned them and regarded himself in the mirror. Satisfied he opened the top-to-bottom door of the cupboard and removed a long scabbard.

Taking a leather-wrapped bundle from the corner, he removed the leather covering and stroked the polished surface of his bow with an unconscious, but practiced movement. How long had it been since he had last used it?  When had he fired the last arrow with the intent to kill? How long had it been that he had fletched these arrows? The weight of the weapon felt suddenly so familiar in his hands.

After stringing the bow and testing it’s readiness he grabbed his quiver and attached his sword to his belt. With a last look in the mirror he quietly left his rooms and slipped outside without anyone recognizing the black clad figure hastening toward the stables. On the back of his faithful mare he left Imladris determined to fulfil his self appointed task.

……………………………………………..

Crouched low over the neck of his mare he followed the trail the men had left. In their haste to leave the hidden valley they had trampled along, leaving behind signs that even an elfling would be able to follow.

Beside disturbed undergrowth and ripped leaves he spotted dark drops in regular intervals. At least one of the men had to be injured.

All the better, he thought grimly. This would slow their flight and he had a better chance to still reach them while in the near surroundings of Imladris.

When his mare tossed her head and slowed, Erestor straightened and listened carefully while his eyes scanned the way ahead. Some distance away he could make out a faint glimmer between the trees.

*They really had some nerve to start a fire that would give away their position!*, he thought. *Or were they so presumptuous that they did not expect to be pursued?* Slowly he slid from his horse’s back and ordered her to stay in the area and hide. Butting her head against his shoulder the beautiful dark animal turned and trotted from the path.

Erestor readied his bow, checked his sword and leaped up into the trees. For a few moments he remained sitting on a branch, trying to sort out the feelings coursing through him. How long had it been since he was in a similar situation? Pursuing someone, ready to fight and not knowing how this would end?

Slowly he shook his head. He would bring this to an end and return to the life he had chosen over the last millennia. He was content helping Master Elrond to run Imladris. He did not need the thrill of battle any more.

However, for now this feeling was back in his veins and it would sustain him until he had captured the men. With stealth that only an elf could muster he leaped from tree to tree the men’s voices becoming audible now. Directly above them he settled into the embrace of an old oak and surveyed their camp while listening to their conversation.

One of them, seemingly the leader, sat near the fire toying with an object Erestor could not make out from this angle. The man tossed it into the air and let it dance on his finger tip. When the firelight was caught at the smooth surface Erestor recognized instantly what the man was holding - the jewelled dagger from Master Elrond’s desk. It was a beautiful weapon with the finest workmanship Erestor had ever seen.

Of course the blade was valuable, but the value for the half-elf was more personal then substantial. Nonetheless the dark haired seneschal inhaled slowly. It was true then. These men were simple robbers, nothing less, nothing more.

Had the sight of the dagger angered him the object another men was handling infuriated the dark haired elf even more. With the formal circlet of the Lord of Imladris on his head the man rose and rounded the fire imitating the Elf-Lord in a taunting manner. The other men cheered and laughed unaware of the angry glares following their every move.

Having finally had enough of this display and without any sound Erestor readied his bow and jumped down right in front of the four men. With the comforting presence of the tree trunk at his back he made sure that no one surprised him from behind.

He drew his bowstring back and pointed straight at the shocked man’s heart. Two of the other men had sprung up; the last man kept sitting. From the corner of his eye, Erestor could see a thick bandage wound around his knee.

Altering his stance to have all four in his vision he re-directed his gaze at the leader who still tried to comprehend where the elf had come from so suddenly. “This, I think,” Erestor said with a low voice and pointed at the circlet with his arrow tip, “does not belong to you.”

Momentarily stunned into silence the four men recovered surprisingly fast from their shock. The one picked out as target relaxed and grinned mockingly at the irate elf pointing an arrow at him.

“Look. Look what we have here. A lone fighter trying to impress us with his bravery. What do you want, elf? To revenge your Lord? All alone, by yourself?”

Erestor did not blink. He barely suppressed the urge to kill the man still wearing Elrond’s circlet. But that was not his mission. He had to overwhelm them and deliver them to justice, but he had to be careful. Four to one could be dangerous odds, even for a practiced fighter like Erestor. These men had nothing to lose.

Not knowing if his Lord still lived and if he was facing murderers not just thieves, he narrowed his eyes and drew his bowstring back a bit more. The two standing to his side took a half-step back in fright. *So much for their acting unimpressed*, he thought. Only their leader stood there still wearing his silly grin.

“Surrender and I will spare your lives,” Erestor said still fixing the leader with his arrow. No sooner had Erestor uttered the words when the grin disappeared from the leader’s face and he unsheathed his sword, followed quickly by his companions.

But Erestor had released his arrow even faster and brought the man down with a startled cry, the arrow sticking out of his shoulder and coming out of his back. At this short distance the man had been pushed back a few paces from the impact. At the same instant Erestor slung his bow over his shoulder and pulled his own sword free to dispel the blows the others were preparing to deliver to him.

Although the men were no match for him, Erestor realized that they knew their business and he would not make the mistake of underestimating them. As much as he wanted to kill them for what they had done, he wished to bring them to justice more. He wanted to have them suffer for a long time for their crime.

But the men charging at him seemed to have no such qualms to let him escape alive. They had pure lust to kill in their eyes and soon he was hard pressed fighting for his own life.

After ducking a knife the one seated on the ground with the bandaged knee had thrown at him, Erestor spun around intent on ending this fight now.

He had barely finished this thought when he felt a searing pain flare up his leg. Confused he quickly looked down while his two opponents still charged at him. It was obvious that those two were not who had caused his injury.

The leader, the one with the arrow in his shoulder had recovered somewhat, crawled over and had rammed a knife into the dark haired elf’s upper leg with such force that it remained, penetrating his thigh. His vision momentarily blurred by the intense pain, Erestor still managed to raise his sword in time to deflect the blows the other two were raining down on him taking advantage of his distraction.

He managed to deflect the blows but was forced off-balance by the combined assault. He sank onto one knee, his wounded leg no longer supporting him. The two men instantly charged forward seeing their opportunity to kill.

Realizing this Erestor struggled to come back to his feet but the knife blade sent waves of intense pain up and down his leg. Before he had the chance to balance his weight on his other leg one of the men was above him his sword raised high to deliver a final blow.

Knowing that he would not have the strength to block this blow Erestor nonetheless raised his weapon unwilling to die without fighting back. When the blade crushed down he took a deep breath and readied himself to follow the call of Mandos.

But neither the call of the Valar not the striking blow came. Instead the man gave a gurgled cry and fell dead a few inches from the kneeling elf with an arrow protruding straight through his neck.

Blinking but stunned only briefly, unlike the other three men gaping at their fallen comrade, Erestor recognized the familiar fletching of the arrow. Still on his knees he looked into the direction the projectile had come from and spotted the golden haired warrior running into the clearing another arrow ready.

Recovering, one of the two men still standing raised his sword to charge at the new enemy but found himself quickly on his knees too with an arrow sticking from his shoulder.

“One more such foolish try and I will forget my good manners,” Glorfindel warned pointing another arrow at the last man sitting on the ground. After some minutes of angry glares the men reconsidered and lowered their weapons. Glorfindel was not fooled however. All of them had nothing to lose and would not give up so easily.

After handing his bow to Erestor who had managed to stand while leaning against a tree trunk for support, Glorfindel moved over and disarmed them. He was not bothered by the cries of pain while he dragged the two injured men next to their companion with his wounded knee. The dead man he inspected only briefly.

Having made sure that none of the three could reach the weapons he quickly returned to Erestor´s side, who had still been unable to remove the long knife penetrating his upper leg. Carefully he helped him to sit after leaning his bow within easy reach on the tree trunk.

“How are you?” Glorfindel asked, looking concerned at the great amount of blood running down the councillor’s leg.

“I’m fine,” Erestor grunted with a grimace.

The ghost of a smile crossed Glorfindel´s face. “Yes, that I see,” he answered. “Now lie down, before you fall over,” he instructed, helping his friend to slowly sit down.

“I will kill you elf,” one of the men suddenly murmured while he struggled to find a more comfortable position. Shaking his head Glorfindel did not bother to answer. The golden warrior ripped the bloodied leggings open to better see how deeply the knife was embedded. He had barely touched the skin around the wound when all colour drained from the councillor’s face.

Glorfindel stopped his examination. He considered if he should remove the knife and risk a great blood loss, or leave it there to seal the wound. Believing that the wound would be too painful on the way home with the blade still impacting the elf’s leg, he decided to remove the blade.

Looking at his friend he sighed. “This will hurt, Erestor,” he said needlessly, not knowing what else to say. The councillor only nodded.

“Let him be,” the man who had spoken before could be heard again. “One elf less, who cares? Only a dead elf is a good elf.”

Stopping his ministrations Glorfindel closed his eyes. Slowly he stood up, but then quicker than an eye could follow he crossed the distance to the three sitting men and rammed his fist right in the grinning face of the one constantly taunting them. Instantly the man went slack.

Breathing deeply Glorfindel turned back, ashamed that he had let his emotions get the better of him. These men were not worth the outburst. With an apologetic look he knelt at Erestor´s side again and with a quick jerk he pulled the long knife out.

Unable to suppress a cry of pain, Erestor´s upper body bolted upright, only to sink down minutes later. “Thank you very much,” he grunted between clenched teeth, trying to get his breathing under control.

“I’m sorry,” Glorfindel muttered knowing that his friend was not really angry at him. Quickly he wound a bandage from his healing pouch around Erestor’s thigh to staunch the bleeding.

Distracted by trying to cope with the pain Erestor reacted a moment too late. Glorfindel´s head jerked up at the warning of the dark haired elf but it was already too late.

He felt a searing pain at his back and felt a blade sink deep into his flesh just under his ribcage. One of the men must have crawled over while the two warriors were occupied.

Not expecting that someone stabbed in the back would still be able to act the man looked around in panic, when Glorfindel rose.

He grabbed and pushed the man with a powerful shove against the next tree, where he slid down appearing lifeless. If he was dead or simply unconscious Glorfindel did not care, in fact he was not able to because the world began spinning before his eyes. He thought that he must be losing blood rapidly otherwise this strange reaction of his body was not explainable.

All colour was draining from Erestor´s face again, when he saw the quickly spreading red stain on his friend’s back. He gasped, when he saw Glorfindel sway and drop to his knees a minute later. The Balrog Slayer was obviously badly wounded.

Calling forth all his strength Erestor rose and wobbled unsteadily to where the blond had fallen registering with concern that Glorfindel was unconscious already.

Now he had not only four men to deal with, two dead and two wounded who only wanted his death, but he also had a severely wounded friend who needed help quickly. They were many miles from home and no one knew about their predicament.

 To be continued………………………………