Thanks to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 25: Imladris II: Years of Siege

Early Spring 1698

“You have a son!” exclaimed Elrond as he placed the red, squealing infant into a towel held by Ethiriel.  She briskly rubbed the infant, stimulating him and drying him off all at once, while Elrond tended to the smiling, exhausted mother. Once she was comfortable on her pallet, Ethiriel placed the infant in her arms. “Congratulations.”

The woman held him to her breast, and tears streamed down her face when he finally latched on and began to suckle. “Thank you, my lord, thank you,” she wept.

“You did all the hard work,” laughed Elrond. He touched his palm to her cheek, looking her in the eye. “Your husband would be very proud of you, and very proud of the son you have birthed.”

She gripped his wrist tightly, leaning into his palm, unable to speak for a moment. “My son will carry his father’s name.”

“Then I may announce it?” asked Elrond.

She laughed. “I am sure they know now that I am through making noise and they heard his cry that he is here.  Yes, please, Master Elrond.”

Elrond stepped around the heavy curtains that had been hung to separate the birthing area from the common sleeping room.  Glorfindel had kept up the singing and several harps had been played, and it had gratified the young mother to have some sound other than that of her own labors, and soothed the rest of the room as well.  The singing stopped as Elrond emerged, though the strumming on the harp continued.

“A healthy baby boy. His name will be Aldric, after his father,” he announced. “Tollyn did wonderfully, and is resting comfortably now.”

A cheer rose in the Hall, with clapping and calls of good will that they knew Tollyn would hear. Elrond accepted a cup of hot cider, made with the apples they had picked from the wild the previous fall, then sat down near Celeborn, who lifted his glass in celebration.

“The first child born in Imladris,” commented Celeborn. “Let us hope he lives to grow old in peace.”

Elrond sipped the liquid as he considered that. These mortals seemed to have little control over when they conceived their children, and indeed two of the women who had been found by Elrond’s warriors early in winter had been with child when found.  The first had died with her child, and disappointment and melancholy had settled heavily upon the elves, unused to such things.  The mortals had recovered faster, and it seemed each of them had a relative or friend who had also died in childbirth or had a child stillborn. Death was an accepted part of their life and culture. Tollyn’s husband had died of his wounds two days before Tollyn had been found.  Their first child had died in her first year.  To have this child born alive was a living legacy to the husband and child she had lost, and all of Imladris rejoiced with her.

As Elrond turned to answer to Celeborn, he saw a glint of light sparkle off a tear in the elf’s eye. Celeborn blinked it away quickly. “What are you thinking of this night?”

Celeborn smiled. “The birth of my daughter, Elrond. New life is a precious, wonderful gift.”

“I have heard that your Celebrían is as beautiful as her mother and is growing into the wisdom of her father,” said Elrond.

Celeborn laughed. “I am biased, Elrond.  She is the most beautiful elleth to grace Middle-earth and certainly the most charming and wise as well. But you will have to judge for yourself.  I do not doubt that Galadriel will find us as soon as she can make her way north from Lorien, where I hope they are safe.”

Erestor sat down beside them, a piece of parchment in hand.  “This is a list of all of the horses in Imladris, their ages and what lineage is known.  There are two stallions fit to sire their own lines.”

Elrond bent his head over the paper, eager to see what Erestor had done with his notes. “We will begin breeding this summer,” he determined.  “Your estimates are very conservative, Erestor, but I think appropriate.  I do not know how permanent this refuge will be, and do not want to add too much burden to what we must feed, but this number of foals a year from this spring seems reasonable.”

Erestor looked around the room with a satisfied smile. They were through the hardest part of the winter, and had suffered the deaths of only two, the mother and her child at birth. There had been a few lean days where the adults had gone without food, but the children and nursing mothers had always had food, even if the amounts were reduced. 

A call audible only to elven ears was heard, and Elrond watched Glorfindel rise from his position among the children where he had been singing with them. Celeborn rose as well, throwing his heavy cloak over shoulders as he followed Glorfindel out into the cold. Elrond and Erestor waited, and soon another call sounded. Elrond’s brow furrowed in thought at the message: five adults and two children.  Humans and elves fleeing Sauron’s forces continued to make their way north as word spread that a stronghold had been made.  Elrond knew that once spring came, Sauron’s forces would make another push west to Lindon, and many who lived in the path would flee or be trampled along the way.  He expected Imladris to swell with those seeking refuge.

A commotion was heard at the door, and a man stumbled inside, Celeborn holding tightly to his arm.  He looked wildly about, but Celeborn pointed to the corner where the smaller children played. Casyn, the mother found with four half-starved children by the grace of the great eagles, rose.  An inarticulate cry issued from her and she ran to him.

“Father!” cried Laran, the oldest child at ten summers.  He ran to him, but stopped, a look of confusion on his face as he saw his father for the first time in many months. Elrond watched as he swallowed hard, then gently took his father’s arm and wrapped his own arm about his father’s waist.

Elrond looked at the man, wounds festering, his feet bleeding and his ears frostbitten, but tears of joy ran down the man’s face as his wife saw only the husband she loved, and she held him.  Pulling her hands gently away from her husband, Elrond led her and her son to an area they had set aside for the treatment of the wounded while Celeborn scooped the man easily into his arms. “Come, we will care for him here.”

Celeborn laid the man on a pallet, then left, rejoining the other newcomers outside.  Casyn was already preparing a basin of warm water and finding the soft cloths she knew would be needed, for she had aided Elrond with the injured and ill before. Laran knelt at his father’s shoulder, tears running silently down his face.

“We thought you were dead, father,” he sobbed. “I saw the orcs take you!”

“And I thought you dead, my son, for when I went in search of you I found not a trace,” the man spoke slowly, his breathing a little labored. “Godry and Veran rescued me, for they saw the smoke at Rhalid’s farm and suspected we would be next. They killed the orcs, and then we went to aid Tinen, for part of the orc band had gone to their farm.  No one survived at either place, but then we went in search of you, and you were not to be found.  I have been at Tharbad, which is only partially held.  Then one day word came of the miracle of a woman and four children rescued by the elves. I came as soon as I heard this news, in hopes it might be my wife and children.”

Elrond and Casyn had listened to the story as they removed the man’s ragged clothing and began cleaning his wounds. Casyn finally sat back on her heels. “But how have you come to have such injuries?”

He smiled grimly. “I met up with a family burnt out of their farm and two elves, and they wished to find the refuge of the elves, if possible. We had to come through the lines of the enemy. I was rear guard, and we were nearly through when a misstep caused a rockslide, which alerted the orcs to our presence.  My pack was lost, and one boot, and it was in the rockslide I injured my leg and chest.  We did escape, and several days later we were found by the elves. The strange thing was the massive eagle I had only heard tales of before: we saw him each day and the elves in our group said to follow him. I think they led us to you.”

Elrond finished cleaning and binding the infected scratches and abrasions, and then bandaged the man and covered his frostbite injuries loosely. Warm medicated tea was brought to ease the man’s pain and bring sleep upon him, and Elrond allowed the man’s younger children into the room to see him before he drifted off.

Returning to the common area, his heart filled with joy as he saw the newcomers welcomed. Two were elves who had made the decision to sail west, only to find the way into Eriador blocked. Already they were surrounded by elves wishing news of kin and other realms, and among them was Celeborn, for they had come through Lorien.  The family of humans was being cared for by Erestor, who had settled them among other families with children. The group had a dearth of fathers, and Elrond knew that this family, with a father, mother, a nearly grown son and daughter would be of great help.  But the greatest joy was in the reunion of the father with his wife and children, and Elrond was not surprised to hear their tale of separation, rescue and reunion already being made into song by those with that skill.

In the distance, he heard the cry of the great eagles.

* * *

Early Summer 1699

Glorfindel sat on a rock at the lower edge of one of the area’s many waterfalls, this one creating a deep pool filled with cold water that trickled off into a stream that gradually intensified its flow to form another smaller waterfall further downstream.  Already this site was a favorite of many of Imladris’s inhabitants. Many came to bathe in the refreshing waters, and now in the hot days of summer, the older children came to dive from the rocks and swim. Below the lower waterfall was a shallow pool where the mothers took their little ones to play in water only knee deep, and their cries of laughter and play helped Glorfindel to relax and organize his thoughts. Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the rock, letting the sun soak into him.

He heard Elrond’s approach long before the half-elf reached him, and he sat up to acknowledge the other’s presence.

“There are fewer battles, fewer scouts, and defending our perimeter has become more like a training expedition for elflings,” said Glorfindel mildly.

Elrond nodded as he sat down, but his eyes were drawn westward, as was often the case. “I wonder how Gil-galad fares in Lindon,” he finally said.

Glorfindel smiled grimly, for his thoughts had been led in the same direction. “Eriador is a large territory to cover. If Sauron believes that we are contained, then why not turn the full strength of his force to Lindon?  Destroying the King of the elves, the havens from which the elves sail west, and perhaps regaining what Celebrimbor sent there would all be mighty prizes.”

“You think it is time to turn some of Sauron’s attention to his rear?” asked Elrond.

“It is more difficult to win a battle when your enemy is both behind and in front of you,” stated Glorfindel.  He drew in a deep breath. “Turning his wrath back upon us may aid Lindon, and I do not believe it will destroy us. But if Lindon falls, Sauron will not forget we are here.” He paused, then slowly added, “Some here will not understand why you would put Imladris at risk, especially now when you have achieved some peace and stability for those who seek refuge here.”

Elrond’s eyes flashed, as Glorfindel knew they would. “The safety of the inhabitants of Imladris is a secondary goal; the primary has been and always will be to serve in the best interests of Gil-galad and his realm. We are an army and a stronghold in his defense first.”

“Then shall I prepare to lead a force out against Sauron?” asked Glorfindel. He watched as Elrond’s face lit at the prospect of taking on Sauron, yet he could also see the half-elf’s mind spinning through the necessities of maintaining the stronghold they had created. “I would take only a small force, for our method of attack would be ambush. You would need to keep a portion of the army here to defend the stronghold.” He could see his words take hold in Elrond’s mind, and knew Elrond would consent to him leading the force.

“Yes, and we will be prepared when you are chased back into the valley,” replied Elrond lightly.

Glorfindel laughed. “I never said I expected to win, merely that we would be a thorn in Sauron’s side.  He will chase us and we will do our best to keep him occupied without forfeiting our lives in exchange.”

As Elrond walked back to the growing structure that was the house of Imladris, Glorfindel took advantage of the quiet pool to bathe, for he suspected it would be many days before he would again have such luxury. He dove off the rock, exhilarated as the cold water shocked his body.  After bathing with the soaproot left there for such purposes, he swam to the rocky shore and climbed from the water.

“I brought you a towel,” said Athranen.

“Thank you,” replied Glorfindel, quickly toweling off and then dressing. “I hear we have you to thank for tonight’s meal.”

Athranen smiled. “I am improving with the bow, just as you said I would. Glorfindel,” he said, rushing into what he wished to say, “I want to go out with the patrols. I am becoming a very good shot, and I would stay near the rear.”

Glorfindel knew the young elf chafed under the restrictions placed on him, given tasks suitable for a child, when for months he, Angren and Eirien had helped in very adult ways.  Eirien seemed content in her role in their small society, but she was the oldest female child amid few female adults and she naturally fit into a more adult position.  Angren and Athranen had thrived under attention from Glorfindel and the warriors, and now took a greater role as hunters.  While Angren still seemed content with that, Athranen looked longingly after the warriors each time they rode out.

Placing his arm around the young elf’s shoulders, Glorfindel steered him back to the house. “Our situation is about to change, Athranen. You will hear it this eve with everyone else.  With this change I will need and expect more from you, but it will not be as a regular patrol member. We are not so desperate that we will put our children into battle lines just yet. You are too precious to us for that.”

Glorfindel selected his warriors and met with them first, allowing them time to prepare for the sortie he would lead them on.  They would travel light, and he was grateful that the cooks had adequate stores of waybread for them to carry. Leaving them to prepare, he returned to the greatroom where Elrond had assembled the house.

Elrond stood before the banner of Gil-galad, which had been hung on the wall near the fireplace.  While not dressed in the uniform of the herald of the King, he was dressed appropriate for his position. All eyes were intent on him.  Glorfindel could not help but compare the commanding figure standing before them with Turgon and the man Tuor and Eärendil, for truly he was of their stature.

“Even as we entered Eregion, we knew that Sauron’s forces had entered Eriador. The spring of last year was heralded by another push of the enemy closer to Lindon, where they hope to destroy our king and the havens.  Our spies tell us that Gil-galad has engaged and held the enemy, but they feared with a greater onslaught, they would be forced back to the sea.

“Many of you may have noticed that fewer and fewer of the enemy threaten our warriors and harass our borders. While this has led to an easing of our circumstance, and even an improvement of our situation, it is but a temporary reprieve.  The forces that have threatened us now have been turned against Gil-galad in Lindon. If Lindon falls, Sauron’s eye will then again turn to us, for he will not suffer us to live. We know that against the legions of Sauron’s forces, we cannot long stand.

“While Sauron’s forces were split between holding us here and advancing against Lindon, they were effective in defeating neither of us. We shall, then, use the same tactics. They have chosen not to engage us, that they might focus on Lindon.  Glorfindel will lead a sortie out to beleaguer our enemy at the rear.  Those of us who remain will strengthen our defenses, for it is likely we will find ourselves again besieged by fall.”

Glorfindel looked to Elrond only several times during his announcement, instead choosing to watch the expressions of those listening.  His tactic had been wise; he had subtly reminded everyone that despite the serenity of their summer, they were at war. The nods and intent concentration on the faces in the audience suggested that they believed in and agreed with what Elrond was saying.  Those under his command would never have doubted that this was the right course of action; but Glorfindel noted that Elrond’s inclusive attitude and concern for the children had also reminded everyone else that they were part of the fight.

Elrond had finished and was answering questions when Glorfindel saw Athranen making his way to him. He smiled at the youngster, hoping to reassure him, for his conflict was easy to read.

“Glorfindel, please let…” he began, but Glorfindel raised his hand to stop him.

“I take only experienced warriors from the King’s army,” he gently reminded the youth.  “I am counting on you here, Athranen. We go not with hopes of defeating Sauron’s army, only with hopes of turning some attention away from Lindon.  I plan to return here with the enemy upon my heels, and I need to know that I leave staunch defenders here in Imladris to protect the innocent, defend this as the king’s stronghold, and aid us so that we can stop the enemy beyond the Bruinen.  I have recommended to Elrond that you be named his junior lieutenant in defense of the grounds of Imladris.  I have outlined your responsibilities.”

Glorfindel handed the young elf the parchment, and watched as Athranen unrolled it and began reading.  He was to map the grounds, the passes into the mountains, the locations of the rivers and springs, and make recommendations for how to defend the grounds in the event the enemy made it across the final river and near the dwellings they had built. Glorfindel had seen what the young elf had done in Ost-in-Edhil, and was convinced he had the makings of a future commander.

“Well?” he asked, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth hard to contain.

“Yes!” cried Athranen.

“Yes, what?” asked Glorfindel sternly, raising one brow in question.

Athranen snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”

Glorfindel smiled. “You are now a junior officer in the king’s army. You are expected to obey orders from any senior commander, and to use care with the civilians.  They and Imladris are now in your care.”

Athranen beamed, and Glorfindel could see the elf was trembling in excitement.  While he wished to embrace the youngster, he instead extended his hand in the warrior greeting.  Athranen took it firmly, his grip strong and sure.  As Glorfindel left the Great Hall, he noted that Elrond had beckoned his new lieutenant to his side and was already dictating orders.

Glorfindel left at dawn, with two thirds of the remnant of the force left from Lindon.  Imladris was left with the remaining defenders and the survivors of Ost-in-Edhil and the many humans that had joined them. Elrond saw them off with the traditional blessing, and they rode to war.

* * *

Fall 1699

“They are back!” announced Athranen after knocking on Elrond’s door and being called inside. “We saw the great eagles this morning, and now the warriors at the front have seen Glorfindel.  They are pursued, but at some distance!”

Elrond rose, and touching Athranen lightly on the shoulder, directed him out of his office and back down the hall to the front porch. Gwaeseil had appeared not long after Glorfindel had left, his curiosity piqued about where the war party had gone.  He had promised to look for them, and his flight this morning, circling something beyond their sight, had been correctly taken as a sign.

Elrond watched as the mounted warriors crossed the final river and climbed the steep bank, entering the grounds of Imladris.  They were all bronzed by hours under the sun, dirty and in need of baths and rest, but Elrond counted twice and all had made it back.  Glorfindel dismissed his elves and relinquished his horse to one of the young human boys before coming to stand before Elrond.

“Welcome back, Glorfindel,” greeted Elrond as they clasped hands. “I am glad to see that all of you have returned.”

“We practiced a different type of warfare, an assault and run strategy that annoyed, slowed and at times hurt the enemy, while allowing us to protect ourselves fairly well. It did what we had hoped though, for a good number of troops did follow us back here,” replied Glorfindel as he accepted a cool drink and then followed Elrond.  He stopped speaking for a moment as his eyes looked over the new additions to the house.

“The thing added in your absence that you may appreciate most is the plumbing. They are still working on the heating of water, but this winter we will not need to bathe in icy streams or carry buckets of water indoors to heat them.”

Glorfindel looked down at his travel stained clothing and laughed.  “I think we will bathe in the pool so as not to overwhelm their new systems!” He paused for a moment, as if sorting his thoughts to decide what to tell of the months they had spent in battle, then resumed walking in the direction of the pool. “We did not encounter many of the enemy as we traveled south. There were some roving bands of orcs looting and burning, and those we dispatched when we could.  Rumor came that Tharbad had fallen, so we headed there next.  Most of the Men who held the town and bridge had been forced to flee or were killed when large brigades of Orcs and evil Men passed that way in early spring.  Many of Tharbad’s men had returned by the time we reached the city, and we spent some time helping them to strengthen the town and repair the damage. We then crossed into Eriador, and found the enemy taking the shortest road to Lindon. We caught up to them easily, for our horses were swift and we traveled light. We harassed them day and night, making them believe that we were of much greater size than we were.  A large force was sent after us, and they are now several days’ march behind us.  We left an easy trail until we reached the mighty rivers, but they will have as much difficulty finding Imladris as they did before.  I expect that the majority of our time will be spent defensively this fall and into the winter.”

“We are prepared,” responded Elrond.

“This also was delivered,” said Glorfindel solemnly, and he withdrew from his tunic pocket a sealed message. “Erestor’s scouts are still spying out enemy movements and reporting back to Gil-galad.  One of our scouts had run into one of them about a year ago, and they were relieved to know that we were alive and holding on here, but this was the first chance for a message to be sent.  I have the military dispatches, but this was addressed specifically to you.”

Elrond took the message and carefully broke the king’s seal. He began reading, then stopped and folded the parchment before returning his attention to Glorfindel.  Glorfindel’s eyes twinkled as he laughed, “Read the letter while I bathe.  I am sure to be disturbing your senses as I am now!”

Someone had placed towels, fresh clothing and soap at the pool, and as Glorfindel gladly stripped and dove into the cool water, Elrond settled himself on to a nearby rock to read the letter.  He read it through slowly once, and then again. Hope settled on him anew, for as he had suspected, Gil-galad had not been idle in these years of siege.

“Good news?” asked Glorfindel.

Elrond looked up at the much cleaner and better smelling warrior, but had to draw in a deep breath to steady his voice before he could answer. “Gil-galad says that twice Sauron has pushed to the line of the River Lhun and twice they have pushed him back, but he fears they cannot withstand a third assault.  Already they are assisted at the Havens by Men from Númenor, and Tar-Minastir has promised to send more aid. Gil-galad expects ships of the Númenorian Navy to arrive yet this year. Of note, he says there were no conditions on the aid, but Gil-galad still does not trust the king’s son, Admiral Ciryatur.  He closes bidding us to stand strong against our enemy.”

“It is well that we drew the enemy back to us, then,” remarked Glorfindel lightly. “Had the reinforcements we drew off reached the forces gathered there, their combined ranks may have overwhelmed Lindon, as we feared.”

“If Númenor does not come, then we have only purchased time,” replied Elrond softly.  He did not repeat Gil-galad’s words, but with Glorfindel there was no need: he had seen the utter devastation of Eriador and Eregion. They could not hold out forever, nor could Gil-galad. Gil-galad had written other words as well, words that would never be read by any other. Words of his pride and love for Elrond, as a father to a son, a farewell in case they did not see each other this side of Mandos’s Halls.

“Come, I will show you the notes and give you a full briefing of all we learned and saw,” said Glorfindel. “By tomorrow afternoon, we will be engaged in battle.”

* * *

Winter 1699-1700

Elrond felt the blast of cold air and heard the heavier feet of Men and lighter step of elves as they carried in yet another wounded warrior.   He could tell based upon the speed of their walk and the heaviness of their step if they carried the injured person, aided them to walk, or were merely coming in for meals or a break from the winter cold.   He looked up from the warrior he was tending, but returned his attention to the deep sword wound that had slashed open the elf’s belly when he saw the women clearing a place for the newest patient.

The area set aside for the wounded had grown dramatically over the fall and into the winter months, and at times it seemed as if every warrior had spent some time on the pallets and cots there.  He finished dressing the wound of the elf and turned him over to the care of those who were assisting him.  They would bathe him and make him comfortable, and Elrond was confident the wound would heal. Turning, he walked to where the newest patient had been placed.

“Master Elrond, please come see to Glorfindel,” said Athranen as he looked up and saw him approaching. 

Elrond kept his face impassive and calm despite the leap of his heart at hearing that his friend was injured.  The young elves and human children were all drawn to the golden warrior, and the look of fear on Athranen’s face spoke volumes of what the elf meant to him.  As he stepped to the cot, he saw that the young elf held Glorfindel’s hand, but clearly Glorfindel was the one doing the comforting.

“The wound is not serious, Elrond,” Glorfindel informed him.

Elrond pulled the folded cloth from Glorfindel’s thigh, noting the deep gash that bled heavily, yet did not endanger the leg.  Another cut to his chest was long and shallow, angry and red, but not life threatening.  “These wounds are hours old,” commented Elrond as he began his examination.

Glorfindel relaxed under his touch, and Elrond could feel Glorfindel’s complete trust and confidence in him through their skin contact.  With their minds open to each other, they could communicate without words, but their conversation was comforting to others. Elrond could sense the tension in Athranen as he waited for Glorfindel’s doom to be pronounced, and he lifted his head and met the child’s eyes. “The wounds are not life threatening. Glorfindel will recover quickly.”

Athranen sighed in relief, then quickly masked his reaction as he fell into his role as junior officer. “I will return to making arrows, Captain,” he said formally, and Elrond could not help but notice that even standing at attention the young elf was far more relaxed than he had been moments before.

After he had left, Glorfindel continued to speak as Elrond tended him. “Erestor has scouted south and into the mountains. He sends word of movement of new troops that he thinks will arrive with Spring.”

Elrond paused for a moment, then resumed cleaning the gash on Glorfindel’s leg.  Glorfindel’s words carried a message he had not missed: they could not withstand much more. If more enemy troops arrived before aid came from Lindon and Númenor, then it was only a matter of time before their warriors were chased back over the Bruinen and their enemy found them.

“I have spoken to the craftsmen of Ost-in-Edhil.  All of the males will begin assisting you in the defense of Imladris.  All can handle weapons at need and have taken you as their captain. The women and older children I will instruct in defensive fighting,” said Elrond, speaking even as his fingers deftly stitched the skin together on either side of the gash.  “Casyn has asked me to instruct her and the other mothers in ending their children’s lives as quickly and painlessly as possible, that they might have knowledge and tools should the need arise.”

Elrond felt Glorfindel tense beneath his hand. “Elrond, that is a thought I can barely force myself to consider.”

“You are mighty in war, Glorfindel.  You cannot imagine defeat, but these young mothers can. They would rather their children die by a hand holding the knife in love than be tortured and mutilated in horrible death before their eyes by servants of Sauron,” he replied evenly.  “I will teach them, even as I teach them to call upon the Valar should need come upon them.”

The thought of these children he had grown to love being harmed by anyone was enough to shadow Glorfindel’s usually radiant face. “I must rest, but then we will continue to develop our strategy.  Even the strongest enemy has a weak point, something that can be exploited, and we will find it.  Imladris will hold,” he finished.

Elrond finished bandaging the leg as Glorfindel lapsed into silence, and he tended the chest wound without words as the need for rest overcame this hardiest of elves. His eyes became unfocused beneath half lowered lids, and Elrond paused to concentrate his healing power into his friend. He felt the muscles beneath his hands relax, and finishing his task, he covered Glorfindel with a blanket and left him to sleep.

A quick walk about the area set aside for the wounded revealed that all were being well tended or were resting quietly, and Elrond slipped off to his study. There he opened the maps that he and Erestor had been detailing, showing all the passes into the mountains, the streams and their sources, and every geographic feature they could mark – caves, large rock formations, and identifiable trees.   Imladris was not easy to locate, and it was likely the only way the enemy would find them would be by following those trying to reach the haven.  Even now, Erestor and his scouts were mapping the ways to Imladris and away from it – to caves in the mountains or through passes that would take them east to the Anduin and the forest of Greenwood.  They would defend Imladris as long as possible, but they would also be prepared to flee at a moment’s notice.   Elrond let his eyes drift westward on the map to Lindon, and wondered if the city still stood.

* * *

Late Spring 1700

Elrond heard the call of the guard from the infirmary.  He continued tending the man on the pallet before him, carefully removing the barbed arrow from the man’s shoulder. He had had to cut the wound larger to remove the arrow without the barbs causing further damage, and the man’s hands were gripping the sheet tightly and his face was grey and sweat covered.  Exhausted himself, Elrond had tried to ease the man’s pain, but he had been unable to provide the comfort he normally would.  Herbal mixtures to ease the discomfort had been mixed and given, but Elrond knew that for a human they merely took the edge off the pain.  He completed the work as quickly and efficiently as he could, and when he slathered the salve on to the wound, he heard the man sigh in relief and relax. “I am sorry for your discomfort,” he said quietly, and now that he was free of the task, he gave a little more of himself to ease the man’s pain.

He heard the guard enter the Hall and looked up as the elf beckoned to him. The elf was a seasoned warrior, yet his normal mask had fallen and his eyes held a deep sadness. 

“A message from Erestor,” said the guard. “There are platoons of orcs one week south of here.”

Elrond nodded and took the sketch Erestor always sent showing placement and numbers. Dismissed, the guard left with what appeared to be the weight of the ages upon his shoulders.  Elrond studied the sketch Erestor had sent, and laid it next to the one they had received from scouts operating west beyond the river.  They had also reported troops moving eastward, and Elrond could not help but wonder if Lindon had fallen.  Based on their time estimates, the two forces should arrive within just a few days of each other. Elrond closed his eyes and covered his face with both hands, lightly massaging his temples and the ache that was forming there. Gil-galad had not sent help in time.

* * *

Erestor rode as if Sauron himself were in pursuit, though in truth, it was the desire to get word to Elrond and all of Imladris as quickly as possible that spurred him on.   Never had he seen so great an army gathered in one place, and the sight was overwhelming. He pushed his horse hard, but the stallion had seen the same sight that Erestor had, and seemed willing to give every ounce of his strength to bring the news back to their commander.  As he reached the top of a ridge, a look-out point from which he could see for miles, he looked west.  There, to his amazement, was another great army. He could feel his heart beating furiously in his chest, and after a moment’s rest he nudged his horse back into a run.

He reached Imladris at dusk.  An orc platoon that had been harrying Imladris warriors each night was just appearing, and Erestor had to bypass the battle that was beginning, to make it behind the elves’ front line and then pick his way along searching for the clues of the path to Imladris.  All of the warriors used care to ensure they left no signs of passage and concealed the path, which was nearly impossible to find even without their efforts.

Fording the river, he dismounted and led his horse up the steep bank and narrow path that led to the grounds of Imladris. He had heard the whistles signaling his arrival, and Celeborn, Glorfindel and Elrond were awaiting him on the front porch of the house. Erestor could not help but smile as he saw flowers growing in a bed by the porch, as well as cut and placed in containers at the entrance to the house.  His smile faded, however, when he looked into the shadowed faces of his friends.

He turned the care of the horse over to one of the young stable boys, patting the animal and whispering his thanks as he sent him to a well deserved meal and rest. Clasping hands with each of those waiting for him, he followed them inside.

“You have ridden hard to bear whatever news you have learned, but it can wait a few more minutes while you take refreshment,” said Elrond.

Erestor looked at the three closely, and saw the deep weariness within them. They expected the news to be terrible, and therefore waiting was only a slight delay to confirm their fears. “Have something sent for me.  Is there any wine left?”

Erestor was amused to see Elrond’s brow rise at his request, but the half-elf nodded. “I have reserved what is left for the wounded, but a bottle can be spared.”

“Good, for we will all need it when you hear the news,” replied Erestor stolidly.

He saw the table in Elrond’s study spread with maps and outlines of strategies for both defense and escape, and with a sweep of his hand he pushed them to the side and spread his own map out before them. 

“There is a massive army located here,” he said, pointing to the southern portions of the river Greyflood. “There is also a force moving east along here,” he continued, showing a nearly straight line from Lindon to Imladris. He looked up into the faces of the elves around him, and saw despair, and knew they were not noticing the markings on his map. Suddenly, Glorfindel’s face lit up like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.  “Those are ships you have drawn! Ships, coming up the Greyflood? Is that possible?”

Celeborn began to laugh.  “It is possible!  They have come before, and cleared the channel to their liking and left a small harbor here, named Vinyalondë. Númenor has come!”

Erestor smiled.  “They have more than come.  King Tar-Minastir landed at the Havens and with Gil-galad, they have routed Sauron’s forces and sent them scurrying back southeast along this road.  The reinforcements I sent word of had just reached Tharbad, and were joined by those retreating from Eriador, and the men of Tharbad fled in fear when the ships first appeared, thinking more enemy had come upon them.  Admiral Tar-Ciryatur, the King’s son, chased Sauron’s army east and battled them here in Calenardhon and then harried them all the way to Dagorlad.  What few survived have fled here,” he pointed to the dark lands east of the Anduin, “to Mordor.”

“Gil-galad leads a force of Elves and Men eastward,” explained Erestor, turning their attention to the west. “The army the scouts saw coming was being chased, and is about to be crushed between us and the king.”

Elrond was speechless, Celeborn sat back on his chair, laughing with relief, but Glorfindel leapt to his feet.  “Indeed they will be crushed between us! By your leave, Elrond, I will lead our troops out to meet them.”

Elrond was starting to say that he would join him, when a guard rapped on the door and called ‘wounded arriving!’  To Erestor’s surprise, there was no hesitation on Elrond’s face. He waved Glorfindel on as he rose to his feet and followed him to the door.  He stopped there, and turned to face Erestor. “Your news could not be more welcome, Erestor, nor your rest more deserved.  Eat and then sleep, for tomorrow, perhaps, you will see the victory.”

Erestor nodded, then watched as the three retreated.  Already he could hear Glorfindel and Celeborn planning their strategy, and looking down he realized they had taken his map. He heard movement at the entry of the door, and Casyn appeared.

“Welcome home, Erestor.  A bath has been prepared for you and a tray sent to your room.  Our food supplies are low, but there is bread and cheese and meat for you,” she said quietly.

Erestor saw the shadow upon her face, and knew that the news must be conveyed to everyone soon, for the despair was palpable. Rising, he took her hand in his and kissed the rough skin of her knuckles gently. “Thank you, Casyn, and in return I bear to you first of the house the good news. I will come to share it with all of you in the Great Hall once I have bathed: Sauron is defeated and in retreat to the east, chased by mariners who sailed up the Greyflood south of Tharbad.  Gil-galad, king of the elves, and a force of Men from the island of Númenor have routed them through Eriador and are chasing another army eastward from those lands.  Glorfindel and Celeborn ride out to meet them.  The army between them will meet their defeat crushed between the forces of elves and men. Have hope, Casyn, for your children will live and you will see a time of peace.”

Tears had filled her eyes as he spoke, and she pulled up her apron to dry them. Suddenly, she flung her arms about his neck and hugged him for a moment, then ran from the room.

After eating and bathing, Erestor went to the Great Hall.  The greater portion of it was still an infirmary, and outside of the curtains that separated the areas, the children and other house residents were about their evening activities. No uninjured warriors were present, and Erestor knew that Glorfindel and Celeborn would be preparing them for the assault they would lead in the morning. After checking on Elrond and ensuring that all was in control with the wounded, he gathered the others around him, holding Tollyn’s two year old son after the toddler had squealed in joy and flung himself at Erestor’s knees upon seeing him, and delivered the good news. Amidst the tears and laughter, thanks were given for help that had arrived after all hope had been lost.

* * *

The battle began in earnest the next evening, and continued for several days and nights.  Elrond had ceased counting the number of wounded brought to him, moving from injured warrior to injured warrior with nary a break.  Tollyn, Casyn, and Ethiriel were all assisting him, along with young Eirien and others of the older children.  As much as it pained Elrond to see the children helping clean up blood and gore-covered bandages, their help was needed and he stepped aside as Casyn’s older daughter poured more sand on the blood–slick floor around him.  Athranen, Angren and Casyn’s oldest son and another boy were carrying in the wounded on stretchers.  Word had come with one of the injured warriors that the fighting was heavy, for Sauron’s forces were desperate to escape the large army pursuing them.  Glorfindel and Celeborn may have engaged too soon, thought Elrond, though in these times they were lacking the intelligence to do more than what seemed right at the time.

As morning drew near on the fourth day after the fighting started, Elrond bound the last wound and carried the Man to a pallet where he might rest.  Casyn and her oldest daughter were slumped against the wall, the child sound asleep in her sleeping mother’s arms. Both had traces of blood on them from their work.  Looking around, Elrond saw that many of the house had literally dropped where they had been standing.  He poured himself a small cup of miruvor and drank it slowly, feeling his strength replenish slightly from the restorative.  As his mind cleared, he noticed the uniform of the man he had just tended, and realized he had not even looked the warrior in the face, for his wound had been to the back of his shoulder.  He rose and walked to the Man, and gently turned him on his side. His face was pale and his hair black, and he was very tall and powerful appearing, and it hit Elrond that this was a man of Númenor.   He had known many during his time in Lindon, for the Men of Númenor often visited or came as ambassadors of their King, but he had grown used to the look of the Men who lived in this part of Middle-earth – shorter lived and of lesser stature, though he knew they were distant kin of the Men who had founded Númenor. He felt a smile cross his face at what this injured man represented: the forces of Gil-galad and Tar-Minastir had reached the army led by Glorfindel and Celeborn. The battle must be over, or would be soon.

Elrond picked up the exhausted women and children one by one and placed them on pallets, then lay down himself near the entrance, where he would be sure to hear any new arrivals.  The Path of Dreams was quickly found and he drifted off.

The smell of breakfast awakened him several hours later, and he rose even as the exhausted humans and elves and warriors still slept.  The cooks were preparing what could only be described as a feast, though he learned most of it was for evening meal.

“Erestor has sent word and supplies for a feast this evening!” the cook whispered excitedly as he handed Elrond a breakfast plate.  “Supplies we have not seen the like of since we left Lindon!”

Elrond sat and ate, realizing as soon as he had smelled the food how hungry he was.  “You have hardly eaten these last few days,” scolded the cook.  He smiled though, as he heaped another helping on to Elrond’s plate.

Elrond finished and took the opportunity to wash up and change clothing, placing another sleeveless smock over his tunic and trousers in preparation for another day of treating the wounded.  He returned to the Great Hall as others were beginning to stir, and began assisting the injured.  Soon, all of his aides had eaten and changed, and once the wounded were all fed and cared for as well, they prepared the room for the next onslaught.

By mid-day, no more wounded had arrived and Elrond finally walked out of the house.  From the front porch he could see the banners of the king in the distance, and tears filled his eyes.   Nearly a half hour later, Gil-galad himself strode across the lawn to the house. Erestor, Glorfindel and Celeborn had all escorted him and his captains, and among them Elrond saw captains from Númenor as well. He walked forward and bowed to his knee before his king.

“Rise, Elrond,” said Gil-galad, and Elrond could hear joy in his voice. He rose, and then Gil-galad grasped his arm and then embraced him.

Elrond thought of the many years he had spent in the company of this elf he considered father and king, of the strength of his arms and the strength of his character, and in his joy found himself nearly at a loss for words. He pulled back and met the dark grey eyes of the High King of the Noldor. “Welcome to Imladris, eastern outpost and refuge of your realm and army,” he greeted him.

Many of the inhabitants of the house had poured out of the doors, eager to see the king that none of the humans and only some of the elves had ever met.  Elrond watched as Gil-galad went from person to person, family to family, greeting them and thanking them for their service.  Gil-galad knew many of his own soldiers by name, those who had left Imladris and marched to the aid of Eregion.  Some of the elves of Eregion had lived in Lindon, and these thanked Gil-galad for sending them Elrond.  The humans could not easily meet his gaze, and so Gil-galad used care in greeting them. As was customary with his charm, soon every youngling was crowded around him much as they flocked to Glorfindel.

Elrond led him indoors, showing him the house and what the craftsmen of Ost-in-Edhil had accomplished.  Imladris was no mere house, but the beginning of a work of art, with beauty on par with function in importance.  Gil-galad toured the infirmary, visiting with the injured and assuring them that their sacrifices had not been in vain, but had helped secure victory in Eregion and Eriador. Finally, they settled in Elrond’s study with a bottle of wine provided by Gil-galad.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet and the smooth taste of the fine wine.

“The best you have had in several years, no doubt,” said Gil-galad with a smile.

Elrond only nodded, for he was still gathering his thoughts. Finally he said, “Your arrival could not have been more timely. We heard rumor that armies were approaching from the south and west, and feared Lindon and the Havens had fallen.  Joy replaced our despair and hope filled our hearts when we learned that Númenor had come, and that you led the force east.”

“I am only sorry it took so long,” replied Gil-galad soberly. “When we had gone nearly two years without word, we began to fear you had all perished. Círdan and I considered that we would encourage all the remaining elves to sail, if we could get word to Lorinand and Greenwood, for we knew that we too could not withstand Sauron’s might alone. Númenor was beset with difficulties, yet Tar-Minastir’s word was good, and even over these last two years he had sent forces and supplies to the Havens.”

Gil-galad paused and looked around the room, finally settling his gaze on Elrond. “We will need to gather council here, and determine how we wish to use Imladris and who should govern it.” He paused. “I will tell you what I see, however, Elrond.  I see my herald no more, but in his place a lord in his own right, one who has forged a realm from the wilderness and gathered to him all that would come, Men and Elves, and all of them look to him as Lord.” He raised his hand as Elrond moved to speak. “My wish will be for you to remain here as my Vice-Regent, for though I am loathe to part from you, I foresee that your place is here.”

Elrond sat back in his chair, silent, watching Gil-galad.  The king had never been able to sit still for a whole meeting, and even now he walked about, speaking with tongue and hands as he laid out his reasons.

“What about Celeborn and Galadriel?” he finally asked.

“They shall have their say,” answered Gil-galad without pause.  “But I do not think they will object. Galadriel is sure to arrive soon, and we will hear her word on the matter.”

Elrond considered this, as he had not allowed himself to do in the past.  He had focused only on survival, and made sure in his heart that he never took greater honor than what his position in service to the King required.  Yet, he found that his heart now resided here, and he also foresaw that his future was tied to Imladris.   He smiled.

“A room has been prepared for you,” he said, interrupting his own musings. “This evening we will feast, thanks to the provisions you sent ahead.”

Elrond rose to escort the king to a private room, one of just a few that were completed, and again Gil-galad looked him over with a flicker of emotion on his face – and Elrond saw there paternal pride and love and something he could only describe as loyalty. 

“Well done, Elrond. I meant it when I said that there was no one I trusted more to lead in my stead, and you have fulfilled every expectation I could have had. Yet when you left, I felt as a father might feel sending his son to almost certain death.  When I arrived, my plans had you returning to Lindon with me.  Now, however, I find that you have outgrown even the ideals I had set for you on this mission: you are the lord of Imladris. I find it is instead time to let you go.”

Elrond felt the warm arms wrap around him as his eyes again filled with tears.  While Gil-galad had always been affectionate with him, never before had Elrond felt this strong a paternal pride.  “I can only promise to continue as I have done, as you have taught me, in fealty and allegiance to you as my king…and as one who has been as a father to me.”

On that early summer’s night, a fire lit the night sky of Imladris, and gathered about it and the waterfalls and the streams and in the fields and lawns, up to the front porch and all the way to the river, the elves and men of Lindon and Eregion and Númenor feasted and sang and danced together.  As the stars appeared, Glorfindel drew forth his harp and gathered the children around him, and he sang of Elbereth and how through the stars she watched over each one of them.

High in their mountain eyries, Gwaeseil and his eagles watched over the son of the star that fought Morgoth with their fathers, and sent word of the victory to their Lord, Manwë.

* * * * *

To be continued in the Second Age for one more chapter…..

Thank you to all who are reading and an extra special thanks to all who have reviewed or sent me an email of encouragement.  I truly appreciate it - and it helps keep me motivated when this story overwhelms me!