Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author’s note:

As always many, many thanks to my wonderful beta reader

Lady Lindariel.

Summary:

The Peredhil Family visits Tharbad. What should be a joyful excursion ends in a tragedy.

Rating: PG-13

Chapter 1: a long-desired journey

Master Elrond, Lord and renowned healer of Imladris smiled inwardly while rearranging his bag, when he heard his young daughter fly past his open office door with a gown spread over her arms, and multi-coloured ribbons flowing after her.

“Nana, Nana, this one has to come too. I cannot travel without it. I will take it to the pack horse.”

The healer had only to wait a few seconds for a retort.

“Arwen, please join me in my room,” he heard the slightly irritated voice of his wife.

Elrond sighed. They would need an extra wagon if they wanted to take along all the items Arwen had been carrying back and forth the whole morning. However, Elrond had every confidence in his wife to stop their 60-year-old daughter emptying half of Imladris for the planned excursion.

Since he had announced their journey to Tharbad and the visit to the great market held there every year, Arwen´s excitement had driven most of the Last Homely House to the edge of endurance.

A market was held there every year, when merchants from all corners of Middle-earth offered their goods. Exotic smelling perfumes, and luxurious fabrics, as well as herbs and many more things, could be purchased there.

While his wife and daughter were excited about visiting the great market, he would use the chance to meet with Galador, the actual leader of the Dúnedain of the North. It was high time to discuss matters of State.

Bad news had recently reached Imladris that experienced rangers had disappeared without a trace. No effort had brought any clue as to what had happened to them, and so increased worry and unrest had arisen that a new malice was stalking the angle.

Most of all, however, Elrond wanted to spend a few carefree days with his family in the flourishing town. The initial worry for their safety was quickly replaced by the infectious happiness of their daughter, who was leaving the valley for the first time.

Nevertheless, Glorfindel would accompany them; he had insisted anyway. His twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, eager to visit the market themselves, had re-scheduled their duties and would travel with their family.

The great day finally arrived, and the family was preparing for their departure. Elrond could already hear his wife arguing with their daughter and decided not to intervene. The two packhorses were fully laden anyway, and their stay would be brief.

He checked the items in his healing bag again; he would never travel without it. He looked up at a knock on his door.

“My lord, a message from your sons.”

Elrond strode toward the door and took the note from Lindir, his personal assistant, thanking him with a nod.

When Lindir left, he read the parchment and frowned. His sons should have been here by now.

`Adar, we will do some more investigation about the disappearances and will meet you at the bridge of Tharbad.

Love El+El.`

Elrond raised an eyebrow. Maybe his sons had found a clue as to what was roaming the woods. He folded the parchment and shoved it in his pocket. He would learn soon enough.

“Bad news?”

The healer looked up to see his wife standing in the door, a frown on her face.

She was dressed in black leggings and a dark-grey tunic, completed with a light grey cape and knee-high boots the same colour. Her silver-blonde hair was braided in a single plait down her back. She looked simply beautiful.

“Elladan and Elrohir will join us at the bridge.”

He was not willing to worry Celebrían. It would lead to a never-ending argument about their safety. He had not yet told her of the problems the Dúnedain faced,  for there would be plenty of time to explain the situation to her later.

“Are they in trouble?” she asked, not satisfied with the curt answer.

Elrond sighed. So much for distracting his wife.

“No, they are still with the Dúnedain and will meet us on the way.”

Only half the truth but no lie.

When Celebrían nodded, Elrond closed the distance and embraced her.

“Let us enjoy some carefree days. The day after tomorrow will be our wedding anniversary, and I plan to celebrate it.”

Celebrían raised an eyebrow.

“I hope our abode at Tharbad will be far from the centre.”

Elrond only laughed and followed his wife out of the room.

When he stepped into the courtyard, all was ready to depart. Arwen was already mounted, the two packhorses impatiently stomping their hooves and Erestor standing to the side to see them off.

However, before Elrond could say his good-bye´s, Glorfindel came up the pavement, his horse trailing behind him.

“Are we not waiting for your sons, my lord?”

The healer shook his head.

“They will join us at the bridge of Tharbad.”

Glorfindel only nodded, and Elrond was glad for not having to answer once again questions to which he had no answers himself.

“Then let us be on our way, my ladies,” the fair-haired warrior said with an overdue bow toward Celebrían and Arwen. The daughter of Elrond laughed at the antics of the warrior. She could barely rein in her horse – as impatient as she to start their journey.

“The daylight will not be up forever.”

Glorfindel mounted his horse and led the way toward the entrance to the great lawn.

“I will take good care of the house,” Erestor said to his lord, which Elrond answered with a slight squeeze to the other´s upper arm.

“Of that I´m sure. Farewell, Erestor, we will be back when the moon is full.”

The Last Homely House´s administrator nodded and patted the nose of his lord´s horse while the healer mounted.

“A safe journey, my lord,” he said softly.

Elrond nodded his thanks and turned the great black stallion around to follow the elves already crossing the lawn toward the gate of Imladris.

“What can happen? We have the great Glorfindel with us,” Elrond said, unusually playful. A derisive snort was the only answer from the warrior riding at the column’s head.

They had been on the road three days now. Even if the elves could see well enough by night, Elrond had just decided to call for a stop when he heard the high-pitched cry of his daughter, followed by a commotion and the irritated whinny of a horse.

Frozen for only a second, he spurred his horse forward to the head of the column.

“Please stay here, I will investigate first.” Celebrián, riding next to her husband nodded mutely, even if her first impulse was to storm forward and see for herself what had befallen their daughter.

When the healer had reached the front, Glorfindel was already kneeling next to his daughter who was sitting on the ground. Both pairs of eyes were directed straight ahead at a mountain lion crouching low before them on the path. The ears of the great cat were flattened, and it snarled, its long tail whipping the ground.

Elrond dismounted slowly and crouched, so as not to startle the irritated animal.

“Arwen, are you alright?

Elrond had kept his voice low, yet the lion swivelled its head around and looked at the new threat with glowing yellow eyes; another angry snarl followed.

“Yes, Adar,” Arwen answered with a similar low, albeit shaken, voice.

Glorfindel motioned for Arwen to move behind him and slowly toward her father. The maiden nodded and rose, her eyes still on the cat.

`Do not look it in the eyes and no turning your back. ` Arwen thought while swallowing.

She was aware that a few bows were directed at the animal. She did not want the death of the beautiful cat, yet she also feared an attack. Mountain lions were known for their swiftness and strength.

When the cat was making no effort to spring up, and Arwen had taken two steps in his direction, Elrond reached out and pulled his daughter into his arms.

Instantly he began assessing her state and let out a breath of relief. His child was only shaken and, apart from a few scratches from the fall, was not injured. A warrior came slowly over and escorted his Lord´s daughter further back where Celebrían was waiting impatiently.

Glorfindel had meanwhile risen, never letting the lion out of his sight. The big cat was still snarling threateningly.

When a warrior raised his bow, Glorfindel held up his hand.

“No,” he said softly. The aggressiveness of the mountain lion indicated that there were most likely cubs in the underbrush;  the entourage had startled the mother.

Glorfindel clapped his hands and let out a shout, yet against his expectations the lion did not flee but attacked instantly.

Surprised by the sudden leap Glorfindel stumbled backward and, a second later, the lion was above him. He could feel the hot breath on his throat, and, with all his might, he tried to hold the cat´s mouth away from his skin.

He punched the cat on the left ear, and the mountain lion reared, snarling and swivelling his head to the side. Instead of ripping out his throat, the cat embedded its long fangs in the warrior´s right shoulder.

Glorfindel let out a pained cry, momentarily seeing stars. He could barely breathe, the weight of the cat pressing him down. The lion did not open its mouth, even after a few more punches from Glorfindel.

Suddenly, however, the heavy weight lifted, the searing pain instantly lessening in his shoulder when the lion opened his mouth roaring in pain.

Glorfindel blinked, seeing Master Elrond swinging his longbow a second time at the lion´s head and landing another hard blow.

Finally, the cat had enough and vanished into the underbrush with a mighty leap. Glorfindel cried out again when the strong hind legs used his torso as a take-off point leaving deep scratches.

Hearing the cat vanishing, Glorfindel closed his eyes breathing deeply to get the pain under control.

Only vaguely, Glorfindel sensed the healer kneeling beside him and resting a hand on his uninjured shoulder. Glorfindel felt a warmth spreading through his body and a further lessening of the pain.

Flurried activity started around him. While Elrond was slowly cutting away his shirt from his shoulder, the accompanying warriors were busy clearing the path. Luckily, a small clearing was located not far from the trail. Horses and bags were moved quickly from the road.

“Don’t move, Glorfindel. I first have to stop the bleeding and assess how deep the wound is.”

The warrior nodded mutely and complied gladly because every move sent a wave of pain right into his brain.

When he heard a depressed sob, he opened his eyes. Arwen and her mother had come over, and the young daughter of Elrond was crying in her mother´s arms, occasionally casting an anxious look at the warrior on the ground. When their gazes locked, Arwen mouthed an `I´m sorry. `

Just wanting to answer, Glorfindel gritted his teeth when Elrond probed the scratches on his belly. The pain flared again, even if he felt more burning than the stabbing from his shoulder.

When the healer had assessed enough from what he could see in the dark, he quickly covered the wounds with a wad and pulled the shredded shirt back into place.

“Ouch, thank you,” Glorfindel tried to lighten the mood, yet the healer did not even look up, the lines in his face tight.

“The camp is ready, my lord.”

Elrond nodded his thanks.

“Let us move him from the road,” Elrond ordered, indicating two warriors to help him lift Glorfindel.

“Elrond I can walk. It´s only a scratch,” Glorfindel protested, already trying to rise.

With a dangerous gleam in his eyes, the healer pressed the fair-haired warrior back to the ground.

“The last time I looked I was the healer, and you are in no condition to walk around, so keep still.”

This was no wish but a clear command and Glorfindel knew it was best to surrender.

He let himself be lifted and transferred to a soft bed. A canvas had already been spread overhead between two trees. He let out a sigh of relief; not moving was a good option after all.

For the first time since the attack he relaxed, listening to his body fighting the pain and injury.

Elrond nodded in satisfaction, seeing the warrior relax and activate his healing ability.

He rose and walked toward the low burning fire a warrior had established. Celebrían had hung a kettle over the flames to heat water.

Elrond thanked her with a kiss to her cheek. Picking up his bag, he rummaged through it. He quickly took out some leaves he would use as a painkiller. After that, he had to clean and bind the wounds.

“Ada, how is he?” Arwen asked her father while he began grinding some herbs on a great stone.

Elrond took a swift look around and nodded, satisfied when he saw a functioning established camp. Two elves had already taken watch.

He patted the log next to him and Arwen lowered herself, her eyes never leaving the resting Balrog Slayer.

After he had set down the grinder, Elrond took his daughter's cold hands in his.

“He will recover. The wounds are painful, but not life-threatening.”

Arwen nodded; her lips thinned. The Elf-lord knew exactly what thoughts crossed his daughter´s mind.

“We will return to Imladris, then?” Arwen asked her voice anxious.

Elrond took a deep breath directing his gaze at his wife just coming over.

“I deem it best, yet…”

“…we are much nearer Tharbad then Imladris. Maybe the shorter road is an option to consider,” Celebrían interjected.

Arwen looked back and forth between her parents. From experience, she kept silent. Pushing her father to a decision was one thing he did not appreciate at all.

She sighed. It was her fault Glorfindel had been injured. The well-being of Glorfindel was paramount without question. Yet, when her father decided that it was best to return home, their journey would be over before it had even begun.

“After a night´s rest, I will decide tomorrow at sunrise.”

Celebrían nodded and coaxed her daughter to help her provide the elves in the camp with something to eat. Arwen nodded reluctantly as Celebrían cast a twinkle at her husband.

`Go to Glorfindel. I will keep her occupied.´

Elrond took a deep breath. He did not need a hovering anxious youngling at his back.

He returned to the tent and was glad someone had placed a small lantern at the entrance.

“How do you feel,” he asked the warrior. Glorfindel had closed his eyes, yet Elrond knew he was awake breathing through the pain.

“My fingers are cold.”

Elrond nodded. Hopefully, the cat´s teeth had not ripped a sinew. He would see to it later.

“Drink this,” he ordered. Helping the warrior to drink, the healer waited until the herb took its effect.

After that, Elrond washed and bound the scratches on Glorfindel’s torso, and the bite wound on his shoulder. He covered Glorfindel with a blanket and waited until the breathing evened out.

Elrond stepped outside of the make-shift tent and stretched. Calan, one of the accompanying warriors, approached his lord.

“Master Elrond, how is the captain?”

“He´s sleeping now. It looked worse than it turned out. No doubt painful, but he will recover.”

The warrior let out a hidden sigh of relief.

“Thank you, my lord. Care to see what had startled the mountain lion?”

The healer raised an eyebrow. With a last look at the sleeping fair-haired elf, he motioned for the warrior to lead the way. He sent a reassurance through the bond he shared with Celebrían and informed her where he was going.

The warrior walked deeper into the wood and left the open area. After ten minutes of walking, the warrior stopped and parted a thick underbrush with his bow.

The healer bent forward and espied three tiny cubs, unmistakably mountain lions. Elrond inhaled deeply. No wonder the mother was so angry about their disturbance. He looked over his shoulder.

“The mother lion fled when I discovered the young. She will be back shortly,” Calan said quickly.

Elrond nodded. “Let us return.”

When morning dawned, Elrond left the canvas tent and stretched. While his daughter and wife had slept next door in their tent, he had spent the night beside the warrior, in order to give Glorfindel as much rest as possible to recover.

He had just re-bound the wounds and was surprised at how good they looked. Glorfindel appeared well enough and loudly requested they continue their journey; which Elrond had expected. He wanted to wait to see how well the warrior would take his breakfast and if he would be able to endure riding. The scratches on his chest were still angrily inflamed. The shoulder wound had closed and looked satisfactory.

“Good morning, my love.”

Celebrían kissed her husband, and Elrond sighed at the energy his wife was sending him. He returned the kiss, though well aware of many eyes watching them.

“How is Glorfindel?” Celebrían asked, pouring the healer a cup of

freshly brewed tea.

“Considering his wounds, he is doing well. I intend to continue, rather than return home. Tharbad is much nearer, and there I can care for him much better.”

“Of course we will continue, I´m well,” Glorfindel said, already standing behind the healer. Celebrian handed him a hot cup of tea also.

Elrond only closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. Without saying another word, he strode toward the still burning campfire to grab some breakfast for Glorfindel and himself.

Shortly after, the group continued their journey. Arwen rode with her mother in the back of the column, her excitement somewhat subdued. Elrond had a sharp eye on Glorfindel, though the warrior seemed to be doing well.

Two days later, the elves crossed a hill and the town appeared just before them. Elrond took a deep breath; they had arrived without further incidents.

Arwen cried: “There is Tharbad, nothing more can happen now.”

For the benefit of his daughter´s excitement, Elrond smiled, though the smile did not quite reach his eyes; it was as if he already knew that she was sorely mistaken.

To be continued…