Many thanks to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 24: Imladris

“Adar, will you take this cast off?” asked Elrohir.

Elrond looked up at his son. Elrohir was sitting on a log, his casted leg stuck out in front of him, while braiding his hair. Fast fingers wove through the mane, but when they slowed to clip the braids, Elrond could see that fingernails were about half grown in on the fingers that had been missing them.  Nearly a week had gone by since Elrohir’s dramatic improvement; time enough for an elf’s broken limb to heal.  Elrond looked into the clear gray eyes of his son and saw acceptance of whatever answer his father would give. He smiled, for that alone told him how well Elrohir was doing.

“Tonight I will examine your leg,” he replied.

Elrohir smiled enthusiastically, then resumed whistling as he prepared himself for the day.  Leaning back against the tree he was sitting under, Elrond watched as the camp was broken. Already cook had cleaned up his supplies and the guards had dismantled the tents. The horses were being walked in preparation for the coming march, and laughter could be heard coming from the general vicinity of where Glorfindel was.   Celebrían held Arwen in her arms as she stood with her parents, looking south.  While he could not hear the words being spoken, seeing his wife with her parents reminded him of the first time he had seen Celebrían. 

“Adar?”

Elrond forced his gaze away from his wife and turned to his son again. Elrohir had a silly grin on his face. He lifted one brow quizzically when Elrohir did not continue

“You looked like Elladan does whenever he sees Lothriel,” replied Elrohir finally.

“Hmmm.” Elrond thought for a moment. “If seeing your mother makes me look like a lovesick lamb, and Lothriel makes your brother do it, who causes such a response in you?”

Elrohir laughed, but flushed pink right up to his ear tips. “No one, Adar.”

Elrond laughed as he stood, then tossed Elrohir his crutch.  They walked together to Alagos, where Erestor took the crutch and Elrond helped Elrohir mount and then leapt onto the horse himself.  As Elrohir settled back against him, he said, “Soon, Adar, you will have your horse back to yourself. I wonder if Alagos will be glad?”

In response, Alagos nuzzled the cast at his side and then neighed loudly.  Elrohir patted the horse’s neck affectionately.  “One more day, Alagos!”

Elrond was silent. While Elrohir’s enthusiasm was catchy, the memory of how close he had come to losing this child made him wish to never let him go.  Yet he had learned not to hold too tightly to that which he could not control. Elrohir was his own person; he and Celebrían and their house had given each child wings to fly.  Each time their flight led them home was a gift to be cherished, but he could not clip their wings.

“Look at the eagle, Adar,” said Elrohir, pointing to the large bird gliding lazily in the morning sky. “He has had a good night’s hunting and is returning to his eyrie. Someday I want to climb to one of their nests.”

“I suggest you ask their permission to visit,” replied Elrond seriously.  “The eagles do not suffer fools kindly.”

Elrohir laughed. “This fool will ask permission.  Have you ever met one of the eagles, Adar?”

Elrond watched as the eagle drifted further north into the mountains. “I have spoken to the Lord of the Eagles.  They are magnificent birds, emissaries to Manwë himself. Seldom do they involve themselves in the affairs of Middle-earth, but they will at the direction of the King of the Valar and sometimes of their own curiosity.”

“In the War of Wrath, they acted at Manwë’s direction,” stated Elrohir, recalling the stories and tales he had learned as a child.

“Yes, that was at Manwë’s direction.  But the great Eagles have come to the hidden valley, to see what the elves were building,” answered Elrond. “They were curious about us, for this was the closest we had lived to their lands and nests. They aided us, for which I will be forever grateful.”

“Aided you how?” asked Elrohir curiously. “I have never heard this tale.”

Elrond smiled at the memory. “Imladris was under siege for nearly four years, though the enemy did not know precisely where we were.  The Eagles seldom paid attention to goblins and orcs and trolls, for they do not hunt them, but I believe they enjoyed aiding us against them.”

Elrond glanced at Elrohir, who had twisted slightly so he could see his father’s face.  He laughed at the curiosity he could see emanating from Elrohir.  “The story will continue tonight, and you must wait until then, or your siblings would be most unhappy with us.”

They traveled in silence, Elrohir gradually relaxing more and more against Elrond as he drifted off in some daydream. Memory filled Elrond, as a century fell away and he held again a small and eager child, wide eyed at tales of days gone by.  A vivid imagination carried this son on the path of dreams to lands far away, and Elrohir would come to them with his own stories of Valinor and Beleriand, and of the lands far to the east where the elves first awoke.  Elrond thought of the many times he would listen to his sons as they lay in their beds at night, when Elrohir would regale Elladan with his dreams put into words, made up stories in which the twins were knights of great honor and strength, valiant and proud.  In the middle of the night, when Elrohir’s imagination caused him to awake fearful of those same enemies he had earlier battled, Elladan comforted him and chased away the nightmares by repeating the valiant and brave deeds Elrohir had told him about hours earlier.  So alike they were, and yet so different.

Elrond felt Vilya press into his side as Elrohir shifted against him and his thoughts drifted back to the age of their storytelling. They had fled, unaided by hope, hiding in a valley besieged by enemies that stood between them and the west.  They had withstood those who wished only to annihilate them, and spent centuries building Imladris into a remote outpost for the elves. When the opportunity came to defeat Sauron, Imladris had launched the armies of Men and Elves.  No kings had returned from that battlefield.  The One Ring was lost. Desire filled Elrond as he considered Vilya, and then his family and his house.  For so long they had lived without hope in the dark years of the Second Age. Knowing, as he thought he did, that evil would ere rise again in the Third, he would use Vilya to preserve and protect what tranquility and beauty they had forged, and more importantly, to protect his family and his house.  His hope.

He felt a nudge against his leg, and turned his head, his eyes focusing after a moment on the laughing warrior beside him.

“Really, my lord,” teased Glorfindel merrily, “if you are both going to daydream, I will assign a guard to watch over you.”  Alagos snorted in disdain at the words, for he had kept them perfectly in step with the party, and Elrond patted his neck affectionately. Elrohir had started against him at the sound of Glorfindel’s voice, and now Glorfindel turned his attention to the young elf. “And where were you, Elrohir?”

“In the Eagle’s eyrie,” replied Elrohir without stopping to check his words.  He blushed as Glorfindel laughed again, knowing he had just admitted carelessly daydreaming to his captain. Elrond felt him tense, waiting for the words to come, even in jest, that Glorfindel would look forward to teaching him some discipline when they were home again. But the words did not come.

“Perhaps I will take you on the next scouting trip into the far north, where the Eagles have their great platform nests.  We can see them from a distance, though an invitation to visit is possible,” mused Glorfindel.  He grinned as Elladan rode up next to them. “And we can probably even take Elladan along now that he is old enough not to try to jump from a nest and fly.”

Elladan laughed in remembrance. “We had just heard the tales of Uncle Elros and his jumping from the cliff to fly. I wanted to fly too!” He winked at Elrond. “I am still saving all the Eagle feathers I find in hopes of making my own wings one day.”

Elrond listened to the banter that followed, and thought of his life as a young adult in Gil-galad’s court in Lindon.   He had at first been amused by Ereinion and Círdan, especially after Elros had sailed with his people to Andor.  They had seemed to want to revert him to childhood, a childhood he had never had and therefore did not miss. Logically, he had known what they were doing. Gil-galad had explained it often enough: that after the carefree and innocent years of childhood came the years of exploration, where young elves explored their world, learning more deeply of nature, music, animals, lore or any subject that piqued their curiosity.  While Elrond’s childhood years were spent at war and helping prepare the Men for their new life, now he had opportunity to do those things. Elrond had smiled, a bit smugly he now thought, for in his own mind he did not need special time to explore his world; he could still be Gil-galad’s advisor and do all of that.  It was Círdan who had knocked him down a few pegs, in his gruffly loving way.  Gil-galad was not quite a century older than Elrond, and he had not had the opportunity he was trying to gift Elrond with, nor could he take it now, in his position as king.  Then Círdan had reminded him that he did not need to earn their love.

Those words had cut Elrond like a knife, laying bare his insecurities and his pride.  Seeing his insecurities had come easily to him. He barely remembered the time he had spent with Maedhros and Maglor, yet he could recall his fear of being harmed by them, of wanting to please Maglor in particular, that he and Elros might gain his favor.  Certainly he had done that with Gil-galad and Círdan, unconsciously trying to prove his worth to them so that they would never have cause to regret taking him in. In contrast, he had not recognized his pride for some time, but Círdan’s words had unlocked a part of his own mind that he had never looked at closely before.  Gil-galad was not rejecting him by lessening his duties and encouraging him to explore and learn, but offering him a gift that he could not give himself even as a king.  To accept what Gil-galad had offered seemed selfish to Elrond; yet when Círdan had explained it in those terms, he recognized the gift for what it was, and his pride as well.

He had come to know a little of how Gil-galad and Círdan had felt as he himself mentored Erestor.  Erestor had parents who had seen to his upbringing, but even after he came into the service of the king Elrond had seen that all opportunities were open to him.  Now as a father of young adults, Elrond felt keenly what Círdan had tried to explain to him long ago.  While need might demand that they be trained as warriors, this would not be all there was to their life.  If using Vilya could somehow help to protect Imladris, freeing his sons and other elves to explore their world and learn all they wished to learn, was that not a good thing? If the refuge of Imladris were safe, then the House could be as Celebrían dreamed – a place where any and all in need could come and find rest. He had once thought her dream lofty, but she explained that she was only expanding upon what he had already made.  A sudden vision of Gil-galad teasing him and telling him to marry Celebrían came to his mind, and he felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart skip a beat in memory. Blinking back the tear he felt at the corner of his eye, he realized Gil-galad had never given him bad advice. Thankfully, he had learned to heed it.

“Adar, you are clutching your side like you are in pain,” said Elladan, interrupting Elrond’s thoughts.  Elrond immediately released his grasp, and felt Vilya slip back to rest softly against his skin.  Elrond felt Glorfindel’s eyes upon him, but Elladan continued, sparing him from having to meet his keeper’s gaze. “Enough reflecting on whatever you are reflecting upon, Adar. Erestor has determined we will make camp early, for we will arrive home tomorrow.”

Elrond laughed at the cheer that went up around him.  Many were looking forward to warm baths and then a night in the Hall of Fire, listening to music and singing.  Some, like Arwen and Elrohir, were looking forward to sleeping in their own beds.  Arwen had been so tired this morning and Elrond was looking forward to returning her to her normal routine as well. She loved sunset and starlight, and had never liked waking early in the morning except for special days.  The events of this trip, her injuries and he felt possibly a spurt of growth might all be contributing to one tired child. Elrohir wanted to be free of the cast, but Elrond felt sure that once it was removed and after one good night of sound sleep, he would be as healthy and normal as he had been prior to the trip.

Elrohir slid gracefully to the ground, pointedly ignoring Glorfindel’s hand held out to him for balance.  His crutches were nowhere in sight, however, and though the cast was thickly made to prevent injury in subsequent falls, it was not made for walking.  Elrohir hopped a few times, and Elrond felt a rising sense of trepidation as his son danced around on one foot.  Elladan must have as well, for he suddenly charged at his twin, grabbing and tossing Elrohir over his shoulder.  The casted leg stuck straight up in the air while his other leg bent and both hands flailed, playfully beating Elladan on the back.

“Adar, if you are going to remove this cast, you had better do it before this fool falls and breaks his other leg.  Where do you want him?” called Elladan as he thwacked Elrohir hard on his backside, earning himself a yelp in the ear. Elrohir settled down immediately though, and instead took advantage of his position to play with Elladan’s hair and flick his ears, both of which he knew would annoy his twin.

Elrond dismounted, waving Elladan to the camp. He heard the sound of flesh hitting something solid, followed by another yelp and Arwen’s giggling.  Elrohir began laughing, and Elrond followed the noise through the branches of a copse of trees to the spot selected for the camp.  Elladan still held Elrohir, though there was no reason beyond the simple need to torment him.  Arwen had spanked him and now Celebrían was tickling him.  She had one of his arms pinned and Arwen was tugging on the other, leaving Celebrían with one free hand that Elrond knew from experience was enough to make anyone on the receiving end beg for mercy.

“Naneth!” Elrohir finally cried, breathless from laughing.  “You win!”

“Of course I do,” agreed Celebrían, and she kissed his forehead as Elladan set him down.  “Now sit.”

Elrohir sank gratefully down on to the blanket someone had laid on the grass, then sprawled out on his back, letting the sun that was filtering in from the trees high above him soak into him as he caught his breath. But this time, while others began preparing the camp, all of the family gathered near as Elrond prepared his tools. Propping the cast on his own thigh, Elrond began the tedious job of removing the plaster.  As the cast split and he broke it away, Elrohir’s pale leg was revealed.  No wound had reappeared, and the skin appeared as intact as it did the night it mysteriously healed. The lower part of the cast was broken off and Elrohir wiggled his toes with delight.  Elrond bathed the skin with warm water, then massaged the muscles and manipulated the ankle and knee joints.  One eye was always on Elrohir, and not once did his child flinch or give any sign of pain, though he did squirm when Elrond ran his fingertip along the bottom of his foot.

Elrond stood, then held both hands out to Elrohir, who took them without question.  A huge smile crossed Elrohir’s face as Elrond pulled him to his feet.  Elrond could not help but remember the first time Elrohir had stood after being hurt, nearly falling as nausea and dizziness and pain had overwhelmed him. This time, his eyes shone and his cheeks flushed in delight as he took a few steps. Elrond let Elrohir withdraw his hands as he began to walk, the few steps on the blanket and back, and then to the edge of the camp and back, and then he hopped and jumped and twisted as he made his way back, and Elrond caught him as Elrohir flung himself into his arms.

“Thank you, Adar!” he cried. He kissed Elrond on both cheeks and then hugged him again.  Stepping back, Elrond could see that Elrohir’s eyes were alight with excitement. He took the shoes that his mother handed him and quickly slipped them on to his feet.  He began to walk, then run, away from the camp.  Elladan joined him, and Elrond knew that Elrohir would not be allowed to go further than he was able on his first day walking in nearly a month.

He watched as Elrohir ran like a deer, bounding in graceful leaps through the grassy area near their camp, whirling in circles and then racing forward again.  Always Elladan stayed just close enough to keep an eye on him, allowing his twin to frolic and enjoy his freedom. Suddenly, Elrohir raced to his twin and grabbed him by the hand. As when they were children, they grasped hands and whirled in a circle, leaning as far back as their arms allowed, their heads flung back in wild abandon and complete trust of the other.

Elrond felt a hand slip into his, and turned to see silver hair spilled along his shoulder.  He pulled Celebrían in front of him, wrapping both of his arms about her. She tilted her head back slightly, and as their cheeks touched he felt the warmth of her tears.  His own mingled with hers as they watched their sons play and chase like elflings again.

* * *

Elrohir ran breathless into the camp, leaping lightly over a log and then melting to the ground next to his mother.  He flopped his head and arm down on her thigh, then rolled to look up at her and his father.  His gaze was met by tender smiles, and he could see tears still glistening in eyes filled with joy.  He closed his eyes as his mother’s hand came to rest on his head, and he rolled back on to his side and sighed in pleasure as she combed out his tangled mane with her fingers.

“Are you happy, Elrohir?” she asked.

Elrohir could only nod. “How does your leg feel?” asked Elrond.

Elrohir smiled as he thought of how much restraint his father had to be using in not examining his leg. He laughed aloud, then rose to his hands and knees, crawling over Celebrían and squeezing his way in between them. Both moved to allow him space, and soon he was half sitting, his shoulders resting against his mother’s leg and his lower legs in his father’s lap.

“See for yourself, Adar,” he offered.

Elrond’s warm fingers played gently across his skin, feeling the area where the break had been and the muscles recently exercised, and Elrohir found himself treated to a rubdown like a favored stallion. He knew his spurt of exercise shouldn’t have been ended abruptly; and indeed, Elladan had made him walk for a while before sending him back to camp. He had wished to go with Elladan to help tend the horses, but his twin had said no and, knowing he was right and knowing he did not wish to argue with Glorfindel who would certainly take Elladan’s side, he had acquiesced.  Now under his father’s gentle healing touch upon his leg and his mother’s loving hand upon his head, he surrendered himself to the path of dreams.

* * *

“Our colt is sound asleep,” said Celebrían softly.

“He does remind one of a colt,” agreed Elrond as he continued to rub the overused muscles in his son’s calves. “Joy emanated from him like light from the sun this evening. It is important to Elrohir, I think, to return to Imladris riding upon his horse or walking upon his own feet.”

“No peredhil likes to be carried,” agreed Glorfindel as he joined them. 

Elrond glared at his captain, but Glorfindel’s cheery smile finally made him laugh.  He had hated being carried after he was injured.  Trust Glorfindel to remind him that he had been, and possibly still was, as stubborn and prideful as his youthful sons.

“Not so,” disagreed Erestor. He turned so his back was to Glorfindel, allowing Arwen to slide off him and on to Glorfindel.  He looked back to see her held in strong arms, her legs stuck straight out and toes pointed, and one arm raised, like a dancer caught by her partner. She giggled at her pose, and then slid down to sit on Glorfindel’s lap.

“Adar, did you see Elrohir and Elladan dance in the grass?” asked Arwen, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb her sleeping brother. “Were they not beautiful?”

“I did and they were,” answered Elrond.

Arwen sat looking at Elrohir for a moment, then lifted shining eyes to her father. “Ada, I am so happy for Elrohir I think I might cry.” She turned and looked at Erestor solemnly.  “Erestor already did, and he said it is normal to cry about such things.”

Elrond looked at his advisor, who flushed slightly. “Erestor is very wise, Arwen.  He only gives good counsel, and that is good counsel for all of us.”

Glorfindel pulled Arwen back up against his chest and wrapped his arms loosely around her.  She rested her chin against his arm, and tears of joy did dampen his tunic while Glorfindel softly sang a song of joy over dancing in green grass beneath a setting sun and starry skies. His voice had drifted off when cook approached.

“And now we must have dinner!  Tomorrow eve’s meal will be cooked in a kitchen, bereft of the sweet air that flavors our meals cooked under open sky. Enjoy while you can!” he said cheerfully as he brought plates first to Galadriel and Celeborn.

“Hmm . . . perhaps so, but I am looking forward to a warm bath and my bed,” murmured Elrohir as he sat up, wakened by the laughter and smell of the dinner.  Elrohir blushed at the general laughter, but too many echoed the sentiment for any feelings of guilt at his discontent to tarry with him.  “But I will miss stories around the camp fire.”

“We have this night, at least, to hear about the founding of Imladris,” suggested Elladan.  He glanced at his mother. “Naneth, when did you see your Adar again?”

“After Sauron was driven from Eriador and Eregion, your daernaneth and I traveled north, hoping we could find the hidden valley. It was not easy!” she laughed at the memory.  “But we were not there through the hard years.”

“The years of the siege were trying at times,” agreed Elrond. “We had limited resources, yet an increasing population as all who fled from Sauron joined us….”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Fall 1697

Elrond followed the hiss of low elven voices to find Glorfindel and Erestor in debate.  The roar of a nearby waterfall drowned out their conversation, leaving only a scattering of words to be heard by those with keen elven hearing.  Neither looked up as he approached.

“The rationing plan will have to change; it is as simple that,” said Glorfindel firmly.

“If the answer were really that simple, it would already be done!” snapped Erestor tiredly.

“The answer is that simple; however, I admit the administration of it is complex,” sighed Glorfindel. His voice softened. “Erestor, I could hardly turn them away.”

“I know,” acquiesced Erestor. He stretched slightly, running his hand through his hair. “Mortals require more food than elves. If all of these human children are to grow properly, we must provide them with more to eat.” He paused. “Did you see the smallest of the family?”

“I carried her myself,” said Glorfindel sadly. “I could feel every bone. She weighed no more than a quiver of arrows. They have been nearly two months in the hills, that mother and her four little ones. I am still in wonder that they are alive.”

“I have not even asked about our warriors.  How do they fare? Do they need any provisions?” asked Erestor.

Glorfindel smiled. “In your despair at seeing more mouths to feed, you did not see the meat they sent back to camp.  These hills are alive with rabbit and deer.  While the guards cannot roam far, they are spending their time wisely. Soon winter will fall hard upon us, but until then they are locating nuts and berries and harvesting what they can carry.  They need more baskets to do this adequately. The mortal women were already skinning the animals and beginning the work on the hides.  That work is much a part of their daily existence.”

Erestor blinked hard, and Elrond stepped next to him, making his presence known and squeezing the elf on the shoulder.

“Already the women are down at the river’s edge, gathering reeds they can make into baskets.  Several are willing to go out and harvest, but I will only say yes to this request if the areas are well protected,” he said.

Glorfindel nodded, then turned to the construction.  “When will the framing be completed?”

Elrond laughed. “I have reminded our Noldor craftsmen that while they may enjoy sleeping on the snow, those with mortal blood will not tolerate such accommodations. Nor will I. By first snow we will have two structures finished and connected – one for sleeping and living and the other for the horses.”

“They cannot do anything without great thought taken for both function and beauty,” agreed Glorfindel.  “But already the nights grow cool and the tents do not provide adequate warmth for the children. I have stated this, but the prevailing attitude is that the comfort and well being of these humans is not their concern.”

Elrond felt heat rise in his face. “That will not be the prevailing attitude any longer,” he stated.  “I had not heard this, Glorfindel.”

“They are careful in your hearing, Elrond, though they do not count your heritage as those of what they consider lesser men.  These humans were their neighbors and they willingly used their bridge at Tharbad, and there was respect between them.  Tempers and hospitality wear thin, though, when supplies are short and the need of the newcomers is great.”

“They shall not be allowed to so quickly forget their own need,” replied Elrond, and anger welled in him as he considered how many soldiers of Lindon had died in Eregion.  The elves were these soldier’s relatives and their people, and Elrond suddenly realized that in some way, he considered these Men his people too, even if these were not descendents of Elros.

“Glorfindel is annoyed because they have accused him and his warriors of seeking out refugees as they scout and patrol for the enemy,” commented Erestor dryly.

“I am not annoyed at the accusation, for it is true,” said Glorfindel disdainfully. “I am annoyed that they would wish to see anyone starve, suffer privation or be killed at the hands of our common enemy rather than share their rations and shelter with them.”

As Glorfindel spoke, a shadow appeared in the sky to the west, and the cry of an eagle sounded as the large bird circled lazily above them.  Elrond watched fascinated, for several times now he had seen the eagles come this close. To his amazement, the eagle continued to drift slowly down, finally landing as near to them as his massive wingspan allowed.  He folded his wings in close against his body, and then turned his head so that he might look at them clearly.

Glorfindel walked to the Eagle, placing his hand over his heart and bowing his head slightly.  The Eagle acknowledged the bow by dipping his own head.

“My lord Eagle,” said Glorfindel. “You have our gratitude for your aid today.”

The Eagle nodded again, but his eye seemed fixed on Elrond.  Elrond swallowed the awe rising in him and walked forward, also covering his heart with a hand and bowing.

“This is my lord, Elrond son of Eärendil, son of Tuor and Idril, daughter of Turgon of Gondolin,” said Glorfindel. “Gwaisael, Lord of the Eagles, has assisted us twice today, locating the woman and her children, and leading us to the orcs who lay in wait for them.”

The Eagle stepped forward until he towered over Elrond, his sharp golden talons within a few feet of Elrond’s feet, and then he bent over to look closely at him. Elrond felt his breath catch at being so near to the magnificent bird.  The setting sun cast a ray of sun onto the golden head of the bird, seeming to reflect off each feather as the eagle slowly moved his head to peer at Elrond. His eyes were piercing, but Elrond met them steadily.

“Our fathers fought together in the Great War,” said Gwaisael finally. “He spoke of the bravery and daring of Eärendil in his ship of silver as he fought the dragons over Thangorodrim.”

“I watched that battle,” replied Elrond. “I know not which was your father, but it was the Eagles who turned the tide.  You have my gratitude also for aiding the elves today in battle and leading them to the lost family. We will care for them.”

The great Eagle turned to look at the structure under construction on the grassy plain, and then at the tents and camp where elves and humans were busy with meal preparations. “Have you enough to eat?”

Elrond looked to Erestor, who nodded. “With what our warriors hunted today, yes.”

“We shall watch over you, Elrond son of the star Eärendil, and take note of the presence of your enemies.  If you are in need, we will aid you if our hunting is profitable. Farewell, may your eyries receive you by winter’s start!”

Elrond bowed again. “May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks!”

The Eagle stepped back a few paces, then turned once he could do so without his tail feathers knocking Elrond aside.  He began to run, then leapt into the air, the wind as his wings beat down so strong that had the three not been prepared it would have swept them from their feet. Gwaisail sailed out toward the river, then turned back into the northern mountains.

Elrond sensed Erestor at his side, and turning, he noticed the deep weariness in the elf’s eyes.  Despite orders to rest, the elf did not. Responsible for the overall organization of the peoples who comprised the camp, Erestor had planned their living arrangements, food supplies and basic sanitary needs.  He tried to ensure that Glorfindel’s warriors, holding back Sauron’s troops beyond the river, and the Noldor craftsmen working on their shelter had adequate supplies to do their work.  Conflict had arisen, as could be expected, between what each group felt was most important. Erestor was one of the few who could see the smaller units as part of a greater whole, and Elrond had complete confidence in him.

“Where is the new family?” asked Elrond.

“Come, I will take you to them,” replied Erestor as the Eagle disappeared from their sight.

As Erestor led them back to the camp, Elrond noticed just the slightest favoring of his right leg. None but a trained healer would perhaps notice such a thing, but he watched long enough to determine that indeed, the elf was using consistent caution. They followed Erestor into the clearing ringed by tents and into the healing tent.  There they found the mother sound asleep on a pallet, two small children spooned against her with only their tousled hair visible above the blanket covering them.  Her oldest child, a boy of around ten, was lying on a pallet next to her, and her youngest was in the arms of Ethiriel, Eirien’s mother.  Elrond moved past Erestor to kneel down beside her.

“She is so weak, my lord,” said Ethiriel softly. She shifted the child slightly so that Elrond could see her.

Elrond pulled back the blanket slightly. The infant’s eyes were closed and her breathing was slow but regular.  Laying his hand over her chest and abdomen, he could feel how weak her spirit was.

“Her mother’s milk has nearly gone dry, but one of the other nursing mothers among the humans was able to spare a little milk for her.  The other three children and their mother have eaten a light meal, but I do not know if the mother’s milk will return.”

Elrond smiled reassuringly at Ethiriel. “This child is small and weak, but with proper nourishment, I believe she will recover.  There are also remedies we can use to stimulate milk once her mother is properly nourished.”

Ethiriel smiled with relief, her shoulders relaxing as she hugged the infant to her. Elrond stroked the infant’s head for a moment, then moved to sit next to the mother and her other children. He touched the head of each, sensing the state of their bodies and spirits and imparting his own healing energy into them.  Already asleep, they merely fell into even deeper sleep that would last throughout the evening and night. Their bodies would relax and heal, and Elrond knew they would awaken hungry but refreshed.

Elrond then prepared another pallet, placed in the far corner from where the children slept.  “Erestor, allow me to examine your leg,” he directed.

“My leg is without injury,” replied Erestor, turning instead to the tent entrance.  Glorfindel had followed them in, and he now stepped between Erestor and the entrance. “Excuse me, Glorfindel.”

“I believe Elrond gave you an order,” said Glorfindel mildly.

Erestor flushed slightly, opened his mouth as if to speak, but wisely closed it and instead turned and walked to Elrond.  He sat down stiffly on the pallet, and fumbled with his boot as he attempted to remove it.  His face was masked, but Elrond could sense the pain Erestor was in. Brushing the elf’s hands aside, he removed the boot with as much care as he could.

Elrond was surprised to see the size of the wound as well as the lack of healing.  Elves healed so quickly that even those injured in the fight for the city were for the most part returned to normal.  Glorfindel appeared at his side with a basin of heated water, bandages and medicines, and as Elrond began to clean the area, Glorfindel pushed Erestor down on to the pallet.

“This is an arrow wound, poisoned,” said Elrond quietly. “When did you suffer it?”

“A week ago I encountered an orc scout. He managed to shoot an arrow into me before I dispatched him. I tended the wound, informed Glorfindel who changed the perimeter coverage to include that pass into the mountains, and returned to my other duties.  It has just not wanted to heal,” he admitted.

“It never occurred to you to seek aid?”

“The wound will heal in time and there is much to be done in the meantime,” snapped Erestor. “Every day brings more to feed, more disagreement about how to proceed and more chance of snow.”

Elrond was reminded of a rooster with ruffled feathers he had once seen as a child living in Balar, upset after Elros had pulled his tail. He finished tending the wound, bandaged it and propped the leg up on a few rolled blankets.

“Dinner will be brought to you here. I will look at the wound tomorrow and determine when you may rise,” he informed Erestor.

Erestor’s eyes widened and he sat up abruptly. “No, my lord! I need . . .”

“To rest. It will be difficult, but we will manage without you for a day or two. You are not to call in those whom you wish to give orders to either, as you will disturb the children.  Let the camp guards know he is not to leave this tent tonight, Glorfindel,” instructed Elrond.

Elrond nearly laughed at the dumbfounded look on Erestor’s face, but managed to contain himself and leave the tent. As he stepped back out into the open, he saw the cooks distributing meals. The elves were lined up, whereas the humans, primarily women and children, sat patiently waiting for whatever was left. He took a small boy by the hand and walked to the head of the line. The elves parted for him deferentially, but when he reached the cook he took the ladle in hand and filled a dish for the child.

“This is the portion for one his size. For the older human children, nursing mothers, and the elven younglings, this is the right amount,” he said, filling a second dish. “All other adults will share in what is left.” He set the dish in the little one’s hands, watching as the child carefully returned to his spot. He motioned for the other children to come, and called the human women by name.  “Feed them first. Tomorrow Erestor will be reviewing the lay out of the camp. As winter draws near, those least able to tolerate the cold will be provisioned nearer to the fires and with more blankets. We must speed enclosing our shelters soon, for I do not want our little ones to suffer from the cold.” He smiled at the women. “I see you have already completed the baskets for collecting berries. We will send them out in the morning with the patrol, and Glorfindel will inform you of any patches where you may safely harvest. I am looking forward to blueberries in the venison stew.”

Elrond returned the ladle to the cook, who quickly filled a bowl and held it out to him. “I will return after the others have been served,” he informed the cook. He took the sizeable portion, however, and put it into the hands of Angren. “Eat and sleep well, little one.”

Elrond met the eyes of the elves whom he suspected were behind the insensitive comments about the mortals as he walked past, then turned to look back at the food line.  A few of the elves had gathered up all of the children and mortals and were ensuring they were fed first.  The children were eating hungrily, intent on their food, savoring it, not even talking or looking around. As Elrond turned back, he saw the eyes of the Noldor smiths fixed on the hungrily eating children, and he realized they had likely always been eating themselves or were even finished before the children ate. The sight of the children eating would move the hardest of hearts, and Elrond knew the hearts of these elves were not hard, merely preoccupied.

“The fireplace is coming along well and looks pleasing as well,” he complimented one worker as he moved past.

“We will complete an area inside for the children soon, my lord,” promised the smith. “They will be warm and snug around that fireplace before the first snow.”

“Thank you,” replied Elrond, grasping hands with the elf as he moved past.

Elrond walked back to the spot on the hill where they had met the Eagle. He knew he would need to tell of the conversation at camp later that night, for adults and children alike had all been bursting to ask him what the Eagle had said.  Turning, he looked north to where the Eagle had flown, and then west.

“How long do you think we can hold this position?” he asked Glorfindel, who had followed him.

Glorfindel did not answer for a few moments, and Elrond knew any carefully considered answer from the warrior would be reliable. “The parties of orcs harassing us have decreased in both size and number,” he replied. “We have sent out scouts, and initial reports are that a great portion of Sauron’s army has entered Eriador and is approaching Lindon. Erestor’s line of scouts were under orders to retreat back to Lindon if they spotted the enemy; hopefully they have done that and King Gil-galad had warning.  If we were to face the full wrath of Sauron’s army here, I do not think we could hold even this valley after winter’s end.  By spring, they would be able to overwhelm us.  As long as the numbers do not increase, and we do not allow the enemy to surround us by coming over the mountains through passes unknown, we can hold indefinitely, though it may be a lean existence. We would have to hunt a wider range to find adequate food, and that will thin the ranks of our warriors.”

“The winter may be lean as it is,” replied Elrond.

Glorfindel smiled. “The mortal women have been digging roots and gathering acorns and other edible nuts. They speak of harsh winters after a summer of bad crops, and then point out this is not a summer of bad crop as there is still much to harvest.”

Elrond could not help but smile.  “Such optimism may help to feed our spirits through the winter as well.”

* * *

A/N: This chapter is split, as it has become way too long.  The rest of the siege of Imladris will continue in the next chapter, which is about 2/3 done.  Thanks to everyone for their patience!

Elrond's answer to the Eagle is borrowed from Gandalf in 'The Hobbit.'