Chapter 4:  Could the day get any worse?

The next day started cloudy and a fine, all-drenching rain was falling. Tents had been quickly erected to shield the rescued items, especially the ancient books and scrolls from further destruction.

Some kind of restlessness had settled among the workers; and elves and men alike, every so often announced the wish to return home.

Elrond was sure that many weeks or even months would not be sufficient to explore the whole interior of this tower. They had inspected all that was possible in this short time and even he felt the wish to return home soon.

Maybe for similar reasons and because he felt he had to return to his capital, Aragorn had already instructed his men to load the long row of wagons, of which five of them had already left the camp and had been sent ahead toward Minas Tirith.

A few men would stay behind to burn all of Saruman´s belongings down and bury the no longer usable items into the great hole surrounding the tower. Nothing of the Istari´s possessions should be left behind and maybe nature would one day reclaim what had been ripped from her.

One problem, however, was still not solved. Aragorn expected this moment to come with much trepidation. His foster father had in no uncertain words, stated that he would not take the elf-woman into his valley – at least not until they had determined what mystery was surrounding her.

Aragorn´s ears still burned from the heated discussion between the two Elf-lords. At their small camp, it was hardly possible to avoid listening to a conversation.

Last night the condition of the elf-woman had suddenly deteriorated, if this was even possible, meaning that her heartbeat had suddenly erratically increased, only to drop afterwards to an alarmingly slow level.

At the same time, a thunderstorm had set in as if to announce the final death of the woman. While everyone in the camp had silently hoped that the poor elf could now be released from her pain, Glorfindel had pressed the healer to help her again.

While Elrond had explained that there was nothing he could do to improve the woman’s condition Glorfindel had also in no uncertain words, stated that he did not believe that and had without another word had marched toward the tent where the woman was lying.

As soon as the thunderstorm had passed, the heartbeat of the woman had normalized yet the reserved mood between the Elf-lords had remained.

The troops of men were ready to depart and Aragorn had subtly been reminded twice that any delay was not opportune. He sighed. He had to remind himself again that he was now a king of men and that the affairs of the elves were no longer his focus and responsibility.

Even if he would rather have known how the Elf-lords would solve their dispute and more about the further fate of the woman, he gave the signal to depart. At pre-dawn he had already made his personal farewell with the elves; nonetheless he was glad when Elrohir came running over just as he was to mount his horse.

“Farwell, brother,” the younger twin said while he hugged the man.

“Do not worry, Adar and Glorfindel will be reconciled, they always have. Even if I share father’s caution, I do not see why we should not take her with us. We will be careful, I promise.”

Aragorn returned the hug in a heartfelt manner. Elrohir had answered all his unvoiced questions with his calm demeanour and his heart was much lighter now.

“Farewell, Elrohir and let me know how things progress,” Aragorn replied and mounted his horse. Finally, he gave the signal to depart. Within moments, the camp was cleared and only the contingent Aragorn had assigned to raze down all that was possible remained to fulfil their duty. Elrohir just turned and stopped waving when they were out of sight.

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Three hours later the elves were on their way too and after a further discussion Elrond had relented and agreed to take the woman along, yet he had assigned two guards to watch her at every moment and Elladan had promised to monitor her mentally. Glorfindel was not happy about that but Elrond remained adamant. Either his wish was respected or the woman would not cross the borders of Imladris.

Glorfindel had only shaken his head. Was it not Elrond himself who had declared that this elf would never wake? Why now this over-reacting?

Elrond’s frown had deepened. Until now, it had always been his advisor counselling him to exercise caution at every turn and warning him that danger lurked in places you would never expect. What had happened to the ancient elf to cause him to abandon his own principles? Now there was yet another reason for the healer to keep an eye on Glorfindel and the woman.

However, Elrond was not to be moved and so the Balrog-slayer had given his consent but not without himself making certain that the she-elf was placed comfortably into the wagon. With a dark glare, he had looked at his own warriors that Elrond had ordered to guard the woman. Then he had mounted his horse and ridden forward without once glancing back.

The journey home was a slow one, the terrain over the mountains being difficult for the wagon. From time to time, Glorfindel climbed onto the wagon and wetted the elf’s lips with water and caressed her cheek. He had wrapped her into a thick woollen cloak; the nights were already chill in these heights.

Yet the woman remained lifeless as before; her skin still pale, her lips bloodless with a bluish tinge.

Elrond looked with worry at this process fearing that Glorfindel would not be as alert as usual should orcs decide to attack them. The actions of the ancient elf made Elrond wonder.

Glorfindel had never been a simple companion; he was a complex character and always was a hint of mystery surrounding him. Elrond was never so reminded of this fact than in these days. Believing that the woman stemmed from similar ancient times as himself, Glorfindel seemed to establish some connection to the she-elf that Elrond could not fathom.

Elrond expected the days to come to be anxious ones. How would his friend and best defender of his valley react? Would Glorfindel be forever dedicated to a living dead body? But about one thing Elrond was absolutely sure. Even if the she-elf did awake, what he greatly doubted, Glorfindel would be disappointed even if Elrond had no idea what exactly Glorfindel was seeking.

Was he hoping to find a mate or a similar mind from ancient days? Elrond’s concerns deepened. He had ever assumed Glorfindel was content with his life and the role he had found at Imladris. Apart from occasional strange behaviour when an anniversary of the fall of Gondolin or some other reminder of times long past occurred Glorfindel had never complaint or otherwise stated that he was missing something.

Yet, the ancient elf had never opened up fully to the healer. Very seldom and reluctantly he had answered question concerning his life before his death and never had he talked about what happened during his stay with Lord Námo.

Had all his pent-up emotions and experiences now found a vent to be released into or to be shared with? Elrond already dreaded the moment when they would find out either way.

What if the woman never awoke? Would Glorfindel be doomed to sit beside her, hoping for her to return for life? Would he accept in the end that her spirit had died a long time ago even if her body miraculously still lived?

And what if she did really awake? Would his hopes in finding a soul mate be fulfilled? Was she really from Gondolin and of the same race? Or was this all wishful thinking?

Elrond was, to put it mildly, shocked. Glorfindel had always been a very self-assured and confident companion. He was not to be deterred lightly. And he was ever sceptical about influences from outside. All the more disturbing now that he had fallen for a woman he had only seen and not even talked to.

Just as they had crossed the invisible border of Imladris Elrond was again reminded of a possible spell set about the woman. What if Curunír had really issued some spell reaching him at long last? Was he bringing a hidden threat into his valley?

To be continued……………………….