Thanks to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 3: Visions of Danger

Travelers’ Campsite - dawn

Rain had fallen steadily all night, slowing to a drizzle and then ceasing near daybreak.  The sun broke through the clouds just after dawn, burning away the fog and mists that hung over the land.  The alcove beneath the jutting rock where they had sheltered had kept them fairly dry, but their blankets were damp. They moved the wagon out from beneath the rock, and spread their blankets out over the top of the wagon cover. 

“Those will be dry in just a few hours in the sun,” said Elladan satisfactorily as he hitched the mare to the wagon.

“Elladan, come see the river,” called Elrohir.

Elladan climbed the rocks and found Elrohir seated on a tree branch leaning out over the Bruinen.  Beneath him the brown waters churned and flowed at a fast pace, with debris floating along the edges, picked up by the rising waters that had widened the river.

They watched the swirling brown waters loosen a section of rock and soil, the large clump falling into the river and quickly breaking apart as the current swept it southward.  “I am glad we crossed the Fords yesterday,” commented Elladan.  “Come, it is time to depart.”

Glorfindel was mounted and already leading the mare, speaking to her softly of the day’s journey and how she would not need to swim again for some time.  She nickered and threw her head, pleased at the attention from the warrior and his stallion, who whinnied in return and nudged her with his nose.

“I think we have a love affair starting,” laughed Elrohir as he mounted his own horse and quickly caught up to Glorfindel.

Glorfindel smiled and began to sing a somewhat bawdy tale of courtship, inserting the names of the stallion and the mare for the lovers in the song.   His horse jingled his small bells merrily in time with him.  Elladan and Elrohir joined him in the chorus, and Garthon hummed along.  It was, Elladan thought, a fine day.

They followed the Great East Road as it veered away from the Bruinen and turned westward.  Glorfindel set an easy pace on the road until the sun dried them, then increased the speed.  It was midday when he stopped them to rest the horses.

“We can eat while the horses drink and graze,” he decided.  “We should reach the Last Bridge by mid afternoon and there is a good site to camp not far beyond that.  We shall pass Amon Sûl tomorrow.”

Elladan spread out the fare reserved for their meal, and the three younger warriors seated themselves near Glorfindel. They all hoped he would continue the story he had begun the night before. Glorfindel watched them with an amused smile, knowing well what they wanted but not offering.  Elladan knew that it was a story Glorfindel did not tell often.  He had said his memories were unclear and often he could not say exactly when events happened. Still, he had promised the twins when they were small that someday he would tell them.

“Glorfindel, will you continue the story you began last night?” asked Elladan after being nudged by Garthon.

Glorfindel sipped his water and looked at the sun, noting its position before nodding his agreement.  “I do not know how long after Námo’s judgment it was until I was next aware . . .”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

The vision of Námo faded from Glorfindel’s thought, and he again entered a period of rest.  How long it lasted, he did not know.  When he next had a conscious thought, it was of light and song, the light soft and glowing and the song delicate and moving.  In his thoughts he told the bearer of the music that the song was beautiful, and that he felt as if he sailed on the wind with the notes surrounding and uplifting him.  There was no response, and this did not concern Glorfindel at all.  The music faded then, and the light too, and he waited patiently for something to fill the void they had left.  He allowed for what he felt was a polite amount of time to pass before directing his thought again into the void.  He repeated his first thoughts, but heard only gentle laughter in return.

“Glorfindel,” came a soft voice, “open your eyes.”

Glorfindel had to think for a moment why this would not be possible.  His fëa did not have eyes. Yet, when he considered this more deeply, he felt a slight twitching where the eyes of his hröa had been.  He told his mind to open his eyes, but the darkness remained.   But he had felt twitching. . . and the fëa did not twitch. He smiled at his own logic, and when he did so he felt the skin of his face move.

Suddenly a warm hand touched his face, cupping his cheek and gently stroking his skin with its thumb.  He started at the sensation, and then unconsciously leaned into it, seeking the warmth of living flesh against his own.  The hand continued to stroke his cheek and then his hair, and he felt the strands tickle his cheek.  A tear of amazement and delight and pure joy slid from his eye, and he reveled in the pleasure of it.  Such textures and forms and feelings!

“Glorfindel, open your eyes,” repeated the soft voice.

It was a male voice, but not one that he recognized.  He liked the sound, though, and wished the voice would speak again.

“Not until you open your eyes,” came the teasing reply.

Glorfindel laughed aloud.  The sound startled him, and he stopped, but then laughed again.  What a joyous noise!  He had not thought to hear laughter again, much less his own!  Gradually his eyelids responded to the command by his mind, and slowly opened. He blinked several times, his heart pounding as the pupils focused, and the place he was in began to take on color and dimension. There was light, but it was dim and he found himself wishing to see the sun and feel its warmth on his face.

“Much better,” the voice commented, a hint of amusement still present. 

The being moved slowly into his line of sight. His face was neither young nor old, but very wise and kind, and he was now smiling at Glorfindel. He was not an elf, but obviously of a higher race. Glorfindel thought he should sit up and greet this person, but found that his body was not yet ready to respond to such commands.  He tried to greet the person, but the sound he heard was not at all the words he was trying to say.  He switched tongues to the High Speech of Aman, but the sound was garbled even worse.  He frowned, unsure what to do next.

“Speech will come,” the person assured him.  “Your fëa and hröa are learning to work together. Soon you will be up and moving and speaking as you once did.”

Glorfindel suddenly wondered about his body.  It had been burned and battered in battle, and buried by the eagles. He recalled this from the tapestries he had seen in Mandos’ Hall.  He looked around the room, trying to determine if he was still in the Halls of Waiting, but he could see light shining on the wall before him, and no tapestries were hanging within his sight, so he supposed he was not.  Who, then, was this person before him? And where did the new body come from?  Was it similar to the old one, before it was destroyed?

“You have many questions.  This is good, for I have many answers,” the person answered.  “My name is Olórin, and I am a servant of Manwë.  You are in an antechamber of the Halls of Mandos.  Once your body and mind are reconciled, you will be free to move about as you wish. Your body is an exact replica of what it would have been had you always lived in the Blessed Realm.  It may look exactly as you remember it in Middle-earth, or slightly better.” Olórin paused to laugh at the smile that crossed Glorfindel’s face at this comment.

Olórin picked up a lock of Glorfindel’s hair and held it up before him.  “Still the color of gold, and the eyes looking upon it are still the finest blue.” He pulled back the light cloth covering Glorfindel, and lifted the larger hand into his own. He began a gentle massage, first of each finger and then the palm, moving up the wrist and forearm. He spoke softly, naming each body part and gently moving it.

Glorfindel reveled in the touch. The warmth and pressure of Olórin’s hands conveyed much, even as his words sounded as music to Glorfindel’s ears. His mind seemed to recognize his limbs after Olórin touched them.  His skin tingled and felt alive, and as he concentrated on his fingers he heard Olórin exclaim, “You moved your fingers!”

After the simple joys of moving his fingers and toes, Glorfindel closed his eyes and sighed.  The smile would not leave his face and he felt Olórin’s hand again brush his cheek.

“Rest, Glorfindel.  When you wake, I will be here.”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

The young elves were thoughtful and quiet as Glorfindel finished his tale.  They had finished their meal, and the horses had eaten and drunk their fill as well.  Glorfindel rose and whistled, and his stallion and the mare both ran to him.  He stroked both heads and murmured to them, and even from a distance his ability to communicate with the animals and be understood by them was obvious.  The mare pranced over to the wagon, and waited patiently as Glorfindel reattached the harness to her.

“Glorfindel,” said Elladan slowly, “do you think a baby just born feels like you did when you woke?”

Glorfindel laughed. “When I held the two of you on the day of your birth I wondered that too.  But no, I think the events are much different.  My mind seemed intact, although my sense of time was diminished then and for some time afterward. My body was whole, a more perfect form of what I had known in Middle-earth – and it worked – it just did not work with my mind.  It seemed as if connections had to be made between my thoughts and every muscle and fiber of my body.”

“Were you afraid?” asked Elrohir. “If I awoke and I could not speak or move, I would be filled with fear.”

Glorfindel thought about this for a moment before answering. “I was not afraid.  This will seem a strange answer, and I am not sure I can explain this well.  How do you explain the beauty of a field of wildflowers to one who has never had sight?”

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances and then shrugged.  “If they had not seen a flower and did not know color, it would be nigh impossible,” admitted Elrohir.

“That is also what it is like for me to explain new life in Valinor.  I awoke nearly as innocent as a newborn babe. I did not fear or worry, but merely wondered. I had memories of my prior embodied life, but while I recalled love and friendship, the pain and weariness of that life was gone.”

“Is it back now?” asked Elrohir hesitantly.

“What do you mean, Elrohir?”

“When you returned to Middle-earth, did the pain and weariness return too?”

“I again can feel those things, just as you can. But those that existed in my former life did not return because I came back,” answered Glorfindel reassuringly.

Elrohir seemed relieved, and again Glorfindel was moved by his tenderheartedness.  He did so dislike seeing those he loved suffer. “Come, let us ride! We shall cross the Last Bridge in just a few hours!” called Glorfindel as his stallion began to trot ahead.  Smiles again covered the faces of his three companions and they set off.

* * *

Imladris - dawn

It was early in the morning, just as Anor began to brighten the eastern sky, when Erestor brought the children to Elrond.  Elrond had not slept that night, nor had many who lived in Imladris.  Rain had fallen in the night, hampering their search efforts. As Erestor looked at the Master of Imladris, he thought that he had never seen such grief and fear unmasked in the grey eyes.

Erestor had found Liriel’s father among the searchers, and asked permission to wake his daughter. She had told what she knew of Arwen the evening before, yet Erestor had hopes that she might help fill more of the gaps in time of the prior morning.

Liriel had been tired but was quite worried for her friend, and when Erestor left her he had the names of other children who sometimes played near the waterfall.  He interviewed children all that night, waking them in cottages and within the main house, and suddenly he had a more complete picture of Arwen’s morning.  He had gone back and rounded up the children, and with their parents gathered behind him, he knelt on the floor near the children, and helped prompt them to tell what they knew.

“I went to meet Arwen at the waterfall, and when I was almost there, just past the big rock, she came running towards me.  She was crying, and all wet and muddy,” began Liriel. When Erestor prompted her, she continued, “Her bag was open and things were falling out of it.  I tried to stop her, but she just said she would come back later.  I waited for a long time, and when she did not come back I went home.” The child looked at Erestor, hoping she would not have to tell Master Elrond that she had been mad at Arwen for not coming back, but Erestor smiled at her and smoothed her hair and thanked her.

A young male elf stepped forward then, and Erestor looked at him sternly.  The child had been weeping, and behind him his parents also had tears in their eyes. He looked up once at Master Elrond, and then quickly back at the ground as he began his story.

“Some of us go to the waterfall to fish. I was there early and Arwen came.  She did not want to fish or play with me. She said she was waiting for Liriel.  She just sat there with her doll. I thought she was not being nice. I did not know she was sad, Master Elrond.  I would not have teased her or taken her doll.  She started to cry. She said something about her brothers and I said her brothers would not want to play with a silly elleth who cried over dolls. I was going to throw her doll to the other side of the stream, but I missed and it fell into the water.  I tried to get it for her,” the little elf said, openly weeping now.  “But she only cried harder and went into the water to get it, and fell.  She was all wet and muddy and her pictures were scattered.  She screamed at me that her brothers did too like her and then she ran off down the trail.”

The child hung his head, sobbing and deeply ashamed, and his father stepped forward to stand behind him and lay a hand on his shoulder.  With that comforting touch, he looked up and choked out the end of his story. “When Liriel came, I ran into the woods so she would not see me.”

Erestor watched as tears slid down Elrond’s cheeks, but he rose and also knelt before the sobbing child.  Erestor could hear the child’s plea for forgiveness through his weeping, and was not surprised when Elrond gathered the small elf close.  Forgiveness was granted. Erestor did not hear the words that Elrond whispered in the child’s ear, but when Elrond released the child he first brushed the tears from the little one’s cheek and the small elf rejoined his parents much calmer than he had been. 

The children were excused, and Erestor waited until their parents had taken them to a far corner of the dining hall before speaking.

“I have spoken to all the children near Arwen’s age, and sent word for anyone who saw her yesterday to speak to me immediately.  If the children’s sense of time is correct, Arwen was not at the waterfall for very long.  I have Calenil’s search group focusing on the woods and caves beyond the waterfall. I am more convinced than I was last night that she is not on the grounds of Imladris,” Erestor finished.  He had carefully watched Elrond’s face as he spoke, and continued only when he knew he had Elrond’s full attention. “I think we should send a rider after Glorfindel and the twins.”

Elrond was quiet for a moment, his fingers absently rubbing the tension from his forehead. “Send the rider,” he finally answered. 

Erestor nodded. “The search will continue all day, Elrond. We have already started over in the house and the grounds, and the patrols are searching inward from their positions.”

“Master Elrond,” Amariel touched Erestor’s arm before interrupting him. “Lady Celebrían has awakened.”

Elrond rose quickly and walked the length of the dining hall, the eyes of all present following him as he left the room. He did not look at any one person, nor acknowledge them.  Parents hugged their children as tears slid down their faces. Erestor beseeched Elbereth and Eru himself to find Arwen and return her to the loving arms of her parents.

* * *

The four elves stood near the Last Bridge and stared in awe at the raging waters of the Hoarwell. The bridge remained above the water, but water lapped at the landing leading to the bridge. Brown swirling waters rushed below them, churning over the rocks and small embankments, and catching twigs and debris and sweeping them downstream.

“Wait here,” commanded Glorfindel.

He dismounted and spoke softly to his horse, then walked up the landing to the bridge.  He stepped lightly on it, inspecting the wooden planks as he slowly walked over it.  He remembered it being built after the war in Eriador with Sauron, and recalled when Gil-Galad’s and Elendil’s troops had crossed it enroute to Imladris, where they gathered before marching to Mordor. Once he reached the other side, he turned and walked back across to where the others were waiting. The twins looked at him hopefully.

“The bridge seems sound,” said Glorfindel. “Walk your horses across  - Garthon and Elladan first, then Elrohir and I will follow with the wagon.”

Garthon dismounted and walked gingerly to the bridge, his mount whinnying in fear at the sound of the rushing water.  He spoke gently to the frightened animal, and soon they had reached the end. Elladan followed him, his horse on his left and Elrohir’s on the right.  He too spoke soothingly to the animals and soon they were across. 

“Stay to her left and I will keep to her right,” Glorfindel instructed.  His own horse walked calmly ahead of them, ignoring the roar of the water.  The little mare was less sure of herself and both Glorfindel and Elrohir coaxed her to move forward.  She did as bidden, and they began the crossing.

Glorfindel heard the crack and snap of timber when they were nearly a third of the way across. 

“Elrohir, go ahead,” he commanded.

Elrohir looked at him for a moment, hesitating.

“Go!” barked Glorfindel. 

Elrohir began to walk faster, encouraging Glorfindel’s horse to move faster too, when he heard another splintering crack and looked back to see the back of the wagon begin to sag through a gap in the bridge deck. He slapped Glorfindel’s horse on the rump and yelled at him to go.  The stallion began to run as Elrohir turned back to help Glorfindel.

The mare was in a panic, the weight of the wagon dragging her down as the wheels sank through the planks.  A section of the bridge collapsed behind them, the wooden beams falling into the waters below and speeding away like twigs in the raging waters.  Elrohir watched it in fear and amazement, and then a shout caught his attention and he turned to see Glorfindel with his knife drawn.  He was sawing at the harness that attached the wagon to the mare.

Elrohir grabbed at the harness and began pulling it with all his strength.

“Elrohir, release the harness!  Let the wagon go!  There is nothing in there worth risking your life for!” shouted Glorfindel.

The mare was screaming in pain as the wagon pulled her down, and she dug her heels in, fighting the dragging weight.  As the bridge cracked and splintered around them, they fought to save the spirited mare.  Finally, Glorfindel cut the leather harness from the small horse on his side and grabbed hold of it with all his strength, allowing Elrohir to repeat the action on his side. 

“It is free!” called Elrohir.

Glorfindel allowed his side to release as soon as he felt the slack from Elrohir, and the little mare fell forward as the wagon began its slide down the splintering planks.  Glorfindel steadied the mare, and began pulling her forward as Elrohir watched the wagon fall.  He seemed mesmerized by the sight before him, and Glorfindel watched in horror as the far side of the bridge fractured and sent more planks and beams into the swirling waters below.

“Elrohir, MOVE!” he screamed.

A broken plank of the bridge caught the canvas that covered the wagon, ripping loose its edge and peeling it several feet back as the wagon slid free of the breaking bridge and fell to the water below. 

Glorfindel yelled at the mare to go, and turned to grab Elrohir, who had not yet moved.  He was within a step of the young elf when he heard Elrohir shout, “ARWEN!” and then watched as the young elf jumped off the bridge, following the wagon to the churning waters below.

“ELROHIR!” Glorfindel shouted as the bridge began to give way beneath his feet.  He scrambled backward, and finally was forced to turn and run as the rest of the bridge began to disintegrate around him.   As he ran off the bridge and up the small slope to where his horse was waiting, he saw Elladan already mounted and racing down the paths and cliffs along the riverbank.  He looked back to see the wagon being swept downstream.

He swung himself up on his horse, his heart pounding as he raced after Elladan and Garthon, who had followed him.  Elrohir had screamed Arwen’s name and jumped. . . and as the implications of this sunk in, he felt a growing horror and fear that two of Elrond’s children were about to perish in the raging waters of the Hoarwell.

* * *

Nûrsûl had left Imladris at daybreak, carrying nothing but his weapons, bedroll, water, a supply of lembas and a small pouch with necessities and the message he was to deliver.  He was the fastest rider in Imladris, and often served as messenger.  His name meant wind racer, and on this day he rode true to the name, pushing his beloved horse to his limit as they raced west along the Great East Road.  The high waters at the Fords of the Bruinen had made for a tricky crossing and slowed him considerably, but he had made it safely.  Several hours later he had seen signs of the camp made by Glorfindel and his company, and rested his horse in the same spot.  He resumed his journey not long after, and again pushed his horse as hard as he dared. He and his exhausted horse reached the Hoarwell by dusk, and he was forced to dismount and walk closer to convince himself that what he was seeing was real.

The Last Bridge was gone.

He knelt down and began to crawl forward.  He could determine that four elves had walked on the landing, as well as five horses, with one pulling the wagon.  He made his way slowly to where the bridge used to be, and sat staring at the water and the far shore, then up and down the river.  He believed they had made it across, but come morning he would inspect the shore in daylight, to see if the debris could shed further light upon this story.

He cared for his horse, watering him and setting him to pasture, then laid himself down on his bedroll and slept.

* * *

Lorinand (Lothlorien) - midday

Galadriel stood on the balcony of the flet, her eyes drawn to the northwest. Her hands gripped the rail of the balcony so tightly that her knuckles whitened.  Her face was drawn and her lips pursed.  She closed her eyes as the vision swept over her.

When it was past she opened her eyes, sensing that Celeborn was near.  He stood next to her, his face concerned and his hands covering hers.

“You have had a vision,” he said grimly.

“We must leave,” she answered abruptly. “Now.  We must take the Redhorn Pass and cross into Eregion.”

“What have you seen?” Celeborn asked, even as he took her arm and escorted her inside.  To his shock, he felt her tremble beneath his touch.

“Our grandchildren are in danger. A raging river, but I do not know exactly where,” she answered even as she began to pack. She turned to look at Celeborn, but to her surprise he had left the flet.  She walked to the door and heard him calling to one of Amroth’s guards, asking for an immediate escort. Satisfied, she packed quickly with only necessary belongings.  An hour later they were mounted and heading to the northwest.  They would reach the northwest end of the woods by late evening, and resume their journey in the morning – up the Dimrill Stair and into the Redhorn Pass of the Misty Mountains.

* * *

Imladris- late afternoon

Elrond watched as Celebrían rose abruptly from where she was helping map the searched lands of Imladris.  Her face drained of all color, and he jumped to his feet.  He was nearly to her when she collapsed, Erestor catching her before she hit the floor.  Elrond sank to the floor next to her, pulling her from Erestor’s arms and into his own.  He held her close, rocking her quietly in his arms as she slowly recovered.

“Elrond?” Erestor’s voice sounded as if it were coming from far away.

Elrond turned to face his advisor only with considerable effort, for the pain in his own heart was as great as that Celebrían was experiencing.

“Send for Athranen, and have him prepare troops to ride west,” he said roughly.  “Harm has befallen Elladan and Elrohir . . . .”

* * * * *

fëa ---------spirit
hröa--------body
Anor-------sun
Elbereth---Varda, Valar who created the Stars
Eru---------Ilúvatar
Olórin------well, he has many, many names, we all know him, but he isn’t in Middle-earth yet.