Haunted

Disclaimer: I wrote this strictly for my own enjoyment and will receive no monetary compensation. All elves and Middle Earth belong to Tolkien. However, the OFC in this story belongs to me
Cast: Thandronen/OFC, Haldir, Ferevellon, Fereveldir
Timeline: Sometime in the midpart of the Third Age

Chapter 5 - A Good Heart

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold
Fields of Gold - Sting


Perched on the stony hollow she had watched the elf approach. Finally realizing his intended goal was the very rock she sat upon she had scrambled down and ran to meet him at the barrier. Unaware of his unseen escort, Thandronen strode into Envinyatarë’s world limping along with his horse.

For fear he would turn away from his path to the rock she had not dared to touch him.

To her wondering eyes he appeared to be one of the most powerful males she had ever seen. Tall and broad shouldered he radiated a sense of self mastery and a supple masculine grace. His blue green eyes looked right through her and she had to skip to keep up with him for even injured he moved with strength and purpose.

Both hands pressed against her mouth she suppressed her own excitement when it became evident that he would be staying overnight. Envinyatarë watched him make camp and shadowed him as he gathered wood.

She longed to touch him but dared not.

His hair was an astonishing color of deep red. The setting sun glinted off of copper and bronze strands intermingled with the darker cinnamon and russet shades. Her fingers fair itched to play in it; to discover if it was as soft as it looked. She gave in finally when he knelt at a dry bush. Trembling, she allowed herself to lightly stroke the strands that draped carelessly over shoulder and back. Her success made her bold enough to lift the thick braid and slide her fingers down its supple length.

He had bent forward suddenly and her hand had closed involuntarily around the braid giving it a slight tug. He reached around and nearly caught her. She had quickly snatched her hand away waiting in horror and keen disappointment; so certain she was he would make haste to repack his gear and remove to another place now that the ‘ghost’ had manifested itself.

Instead after a quick look around he had returned to his task. When her heart settled in a more normal rhythm she resolved not to risk touching him again.

Envinyatarë did not follow the elf when he crossed the stream. Instead, curious she looked over his camp. He had discarded his cloak, preferring to hunt without it, and she held it pressed to her face. Hungry for contact of any kind she settled for smoothing her hands over the garment. Breathing in the scent of sweat, leather, and horse she inhaled deeply and found the underlying scent of the elf himself. He smelled the fresh cool spray from a waterfall and of dappled sunlight, with spicy undertones that bespoke a rich sensuality.

So engrossed was she in satisfying her curiosity she failed to hear him return and he had nearly caught her playing with his cup. Hastily she had set it on a rock and scrambled to her feet. She retreated some distance hoping he wouldn’t hear the rumbling of her empty stomach when he spitted the birds.

Soundlessly she had moved with him watching as he tended his horse. She stood stroking the beast's neck with soothing pats, the horse quite aware of her presence and equally unconcerned. Thandronen's lean powerful fingers handled him with compassion and gentleness and she wistfully wondered what it would be like to be the recipient of such kindness.

She did not dare risk it.

She had smiled at his obvious enjoyment of his meal and frowned with every grunt of pain. He lay down for the night spreading his blanket over him. Envinyatarë had crept closer. She settled across the fire to watch over the first being she’d been close enough to touch in hundreds of years but did not dare. Until he awoke and saw her.

~*~

Thandronen made his decision. A part of him wondered deep in his bones if he had ever really had a choice. Her smile of warmth and clear, tremulous invitation set his blood on fire and he jerked her off the rock into his arms. Thandronen promptly subdued himself. He had no intention of handling her harshly. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. *If I do not regain control of myself* he thought, “I will surely burst into flames.”

Breathlessly jubilant, Envinyatarë clutched Thandronen’s shoulders. Lightheaded from the heat and strength of his body she tried to press herself even closer to his lean frame.

It was when Envinyatarë tipped back her head to gaze at him with enormous eyes that he realized he’s spoken the last aloud. Her fingertips traced his jaw line. “We both will.”

Thandronen lowered his head to hers and gently feathered his lips across hers. Biting her lower lip with surprising tenderness, he eased her lips apart until she allowed him the lavish intimacy he craved. Savoring the dark sweetness of her mouth, his tongue surged inside and he deepened the kiss.

When she hummed in the back of her throat he felt it as much as heard it. Felt it vibrating in his throat down his chest. Heat blossomed in its wake and desire swept through him like a summer storm tightening his lower body until it was almost painful. His hands resting at her waist slid up her back instinctively seeking a way to eliminate the single layer of leaves that stood between him and her delectable golden skin.

There was no catch or ties or fastener of any kind but that failed to register in the lust driven fog of Thandronen’s brain. The garment finally parted under his searching hands leaving his fingers full of leaves. She gave a soft laugh at the look of consternation on Thandronen’s face. “I will make another when you are gone.” The last of the leaves drifted down, settling beside his feet like autumn skin.

She stood clothed only in her poise and innate nobility before him. With only a hint of bashfulness in her features she kept her eyes on his face. The only sign of any nervousness was a slight tremor in the fingers he held and the way she caught her lower lip in her teeth. Thandronen gave in to his longing to see her fully and pulling her hand to one side he took a step back.

His eyes tried to look everywhere at once. Lighting on the near perfection of elegantly rounded shoulders to her narrow waist and the gentle flare of her hips, Thandronen’s eyes glowed with admiration. Envinyatarë felt the flesh of her stomach and thighs tingle under his appreciation. His gaze returned to linger on her breasts and he wanted to swallow his tongue. They were rounded and rosy tipped and of a perfect size to fill his hand. He felt himself hardening just looking at them.

Sighing, his gaze dropped to the juncture of her thighs and skimmed up the flat of her belly and stopped. The soft sound of dismay escaped him before he could stop it.

“How did you come by this?” The fingers of his free hand touched the end of the narrow red weal of an old scar and traced its angry bubbling path from just above her left hipbone to where it ended below the right breast.

Envinyatarë did not flinch from his questing fingers but for the first time she seemed uncertain of his regard. She avoided his eyes when he raised them in question. “Must we speak of this now?” Distress threaded her voice and her fingers trembled in his.

“No,” he soothed. “Nor need we ever speak of it if that is your wish.”

Her head bowed, “I should have warned you. Does it repel you too much?”

Even with her strength and her resiliency she was delicate; he could feel it in the fragile bones of her jaw gripped between thumb and forefinger when he forced her eyes to meet his. “Not at all. It is a part of you and there is no part of you that I do not find beautiful.”

Joy is a difficult emotion to contain and Envinyatarë did not try. Her arms wound around his neck. Rising up on her toes she pressed her mouth to his. In a move that caused the blood to sing in his veins she slipped her tongue between his lips and invaded his mouth. She tasted faintly of the flower of sweet clover and he found the gentle sparring of her tongue with his intoxicating.

She pulled back laughing and plucked at the ties of his under tunic. “Unfair!” she cried. “I stand here bare as the day I entered Aman and you still hide yourself from me.” Undoing the ties he helped her pull it off over his head. He unlaced his boots and tugged them free but when his hands dropped to the lacings of his leggings she stopped him by resting her hands on his wrists and pulling them aside.

Breath coming fast and shallow Thandronen’s lips parted as he waited to see what she would do. From wrist to elbow and up to shoulder her slender fingers skimmed along his already too sensitive skin. Small knuckles brushed along his jaw line. Drifting downwards Envinyatarë spread her palms on his chest pausing to lightly brush her thumbs across the nubs on the flat disks. Her fingers drifted down his chest to his midriff and flattened at the tops of his thighs. The heat of her hands seared him through his leggings. Tilting her head she slanted a look up at him before bracketing his arousal with the fingers of one hand lightly scratching down then up as though measuring the dimensions of his desire.

The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. “This most male part of you is acquiring prominence quite rapidly. Do you suppose it is anxious to make my acquaintance?”

He choked out a sound part groan part laugh and enfolded her tightly in his arms, catching her mouth with his. Aware of her soft breasts crushed against his chest, small points digging into him and the dark provocative taste of her mouth, he lifted her from the ground and walked the few steps to his bedroll. Depositing her down upon it, he rose to loosen the laces to discard his leggings. She scrambled to her knees and with laughing eyes grasped them on either side of his thighs and yanked them down.

Fingertips grazed his rigid arousal before encircling him and sliding along the length. Thandronen caught his breath. Impossibly, he became harder.

Kicking free of his leggings he pressed her down into the blankets. Carefully he gathered her close and found her lips again, slanting across them again and again. Leaving her mouth he pressed his lips to the tender flesh of her neck, gently nipping the sensitive skin below her ear. Tracing the rim of her ear with his tongue he tugged and suckled the tip until he felt her shiver. Skimming across the satin of her collarbone he dropped a kiss on the swell of her breast, his hair brushing across her skin.

She stirred beneath him and gave the most pleasing little moan when his mouth found her breast. Lipping and plucking at the tip before running the rough velvet of his tongue across it then pulling it into his mouth. He cupped his hand around the other one, shaping it to fill his palm.

Her hands were moving on him and there was magic in her fingers; he could swear it was so. Where they drifted across his collarbone, traced the sculpted muscles of his back, and trailed her fingers to loiter along his spinal cord was left a flare of heat. “The night air is chill yet I burn,” she murmured.

“You do. You are like embers in my hands and I am scorched wherever you touch.”

Tracking a path down her body his lips found the puckered end of the scar beneath her breast and followed it across pressing light kisses down her midriff past her stomach to her pelvic bone. He inhaled the fresh, faintly floral fragrance of her skin and her own unique feminine scent.

Tracing the outer contour of his pointed ear she lay very still. Beneath his lips she barely breathed in her shame.

Thandronen allowed his hand to drift down from thigh to knee to calf. Lifting his head to look at her, he wrapped his fingers around her ankle.

Envinyatarë watched him from beneath her lashes. With deliberate strength he gently pushed until she bent her knee and it fell outwards. His eyes dark gleaming pools he dipped his head and touched his mouth to her. Bowing her back she nearly came off the blanket and he pinned her down with a splayed hand on her abdomen. Her body shook beneath his spread fingers as his tongue and lips brushed and sipped, probed and stroked the most intimate, secret part of her.

When her whimpers took on certain urgency and her body stiffened he ceased. Thandronen grazed her hipbone with his teeth and listened to her hissing her disappointment between clenched teeth and merely smiled against her skin.

He crawled up her body settling himself between her thighs and regarded her closely. She glowed with a softly luminous golden light and he kissed her, sharing her own taste with her that lingered still on his lips. “Calad dithen nín“, he said his voice thick. Pressing the blunt tip of his sex between her slick folds he waited until her eyes focused on his before easing himself into her silken heat.

Fully gloved inside her body his eyes drifted shut and he reveled in the sensation of being buried in her.

Slipping his arm, thick with muscle from years of weapons training beneath her waist, he used the other arm to push himself upright and back on his heels carrying her with him. Envinyatarë framed his face to press her lips to his before running her tongue around the rim of his ear. She hummed her approval when he flexed his hips the small pulsing movements making her catch her breath. “How soft you are,” he murmured into her ear. “So soft and sweetly giving.” The golden glow intensified as her eyes glazed, turning inward in her pleasure and she shimmered with feminine energy.

Coiling like a spring deep in her lower belly she wound tighter. She tossed her head and dug her fingers in his shoulders. Thandronen halted the small thrusts and held her firm against him, the strength of his arm forbidding her to squirm and complete her fulfillment. She whispered his name, begged, cajoled and demanded. Thandronen was unmoved by her entreaties. Unrelenting he held her firm and he simply watched her face one corner of his mouth curled up. When her eyes refocused on his she glared at him. A small fist impacted his shoulder in frustration.

“Patience,” he soothed, a hand tangling in her hair.

“Patience?” she panted. “I do not need patience. I need - I want-” she nearly wailed in incoherence.

“I know what you want.” His mouth moved on hers fierce and demanding, swallowing her soft whimpers and craving more. Tugging on her hair he bowed her throat to his lips and teeth grazing the skin. Lowering his head his teeth closed gently around a nipple. Returning to her mouth he breathed. “I know what you want and I will give it to you. When I am ready for you to have it.”

Slowly lowering her quivering body he followed her down into the blankets holding her tightly to him. Thandronen’s own body was clamoring for release but he ignored it and kept tight control of himself. He set a slow, almost lazy rhythm intent on enjoying every inch of her. Envinyatarë entwined her legs behind his thighs sliding them down over his calves and back. Her fingertips traced the sleek musculature along his shoulders and back down to the curve of his waist. Her hands came to rest on the swell of his hips.

His body was becoming greedy for completion, and he felt the beginnings of the sharp prickling in his groin. Thandronen knew he would not last much longer. He could not help but answer his body’s demands and quickened the tempo. Thandronen slid a hand beneath her hip lifting her, driving into her again and again. Inhaling sharply she went silent. Taut beneath him she dug her fingers into his flesh for endless moments before she shattered, her broken cries echoing off the rock wall. Thandronen enjoyed a few moments of intense male satisfaction before surging into her softness a final time and surrendering to the devastating power of his own release.

Limp and replete, he leaned his forehead against her neck huffing and blowing. “I am too heavy for you. I must be crushing you,” he muttered pressing his lips below her ear.

“It is no matter,” came the weak, languorous voice below him. “No one can experience that and live through it. I am dead.”

Thandronen snorted softly and shifted to his back bringing her with him. He tucked her under his arm and with great tenderness, pressed her head to his chest. Envinyatarë listened to the erratic thumping of his heart settle into a more normal, powerful thud after a few minutes.

They lay quietly together for a long while after pulling a blanket over them. Thandronen played with the silvery white strands of her hair and she settled more securely against him drawing patterns on his skin with a fingertip. Eventually the fire needed tending and Thandronen left their nest of blankets to add more wood. Envinyatarë rolled to her back and propped herself on her elbows to watch him, her obvious approval clear in her eyes.

Thandronen smiled at her slipping back under the blanket. He lounged on his side and leaned on his elbow. Resting his hand on her midriff he asked, “I cannot help but wonder, Envinyatarë. How have you passed the time?”

“When Nárion was here,” her words died away. She took a deep breath, held it and let it out slowly then took another beginning again. “When Nárion was here we would tell each other stories, play games, sing. Sometimes we would plan our escape.”

She swallowed and looked away. “Then he was gone and I was forced to look for other ways to amuse myself.”

“At first I would tease the travelers that passed through here but that was a foolish thing to do.” She flapped a hand back and forth. “The tale of a ghost spread; I would hear them talking about it. They stopped coming.”

“When it grew too cold or I became too bored I would put myself in the deep sleep and the seasons and years passed while I slumbered. But one cannot sleep all the time, can they?”

“Often I would sit up there,” she tilted her head back looking to the top of the monolith, “And watch for travelers. I would invent stories for those that journeyed past. Perhaps I would imagine they were on a quest, or traveled to visit family. Maybe they were returning home from a festival.” She ducked her head as though embarrassed, “I would even imagine stories of my own rescue.” She sighed and stirred. “But those particular dreams I forsook some time ago.”

He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “Resurrect those dreams, calad dithen nín. You are no longer alone.”

Slender fingertips brushed his cheek, tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear before tracing his jaw line. “I thank you for your company this night, captain. I will always cherish your visit.” There was a trace of the forlorn in her voice that told him she did not expect him to return.

*She has been alone so long she cannot accept rescue is at hand,* he thought. *How can I convince her?* He sighed to himself. *I do not believe I can. It will take the act itself no doubt.*

He dropped a kiss on the top swell of her breast. “It is I who should thank you, little one. Never has one so fair graced me with her favors. I will hold this night as a treasure in my heart.”

She smiled cradling the back of his head with one small hand. “‘None but the brave deserves the fair.’“

His hand shifted lower and nuzzling her belly he mumbled against her soft skin, “Is that a line from a poem?”

Envinyatarë was intensely aware of the hand resting against the side of her hip and the calloused thumb lazily stroking the inner crease. Breathless, she responded, “No, although perhaps I should compose a poem and use it.” Mischief danced across her face and she grinned, “It is what my brother used to shout at my suitors when he chased them away at the point of his sword.”

Thandronen raised his head and stared at her, amazement in his eyes. With a loud disgusted grunt he flopped over on his back and threw his arm dramatically across his eyes. “You said I had nothing to fear from your sire; you did not mention I would have to face reprisal from your brother,” he complained in an aggrieved tone.

Beneath his head he could feel her quietly quivering with her glee. “You are a bold captain and quite courageous I would guess, else you would not travel alone.” There was still a wicked curve to her mouth when he glanced at her. “I do not believe you need fear him.”

He rolled over again and fixed her with narrowed eyes. “Still, you only spoke half the truth. I have never allowed half-truths to go without punishment. You may ask my sons. I believe I will have to exact a bit of retribution of my own.”

Envinyatarë froze with her fingers tangled in his hair, waiting to see what he would do. Lying prone and propped upon his elbows, he contemplated the soft planes of her midriff and stomach as though seeing them for the first time. Fastening his open mouth to the sensitive skin of her belly, he blew air out hard making a loud sound. Envinyatarë’s eyes opened wide before she shrieked and tried to wriggle free, giggling. Thandronen pressed a hand between her breasts and flipped out an arm across her thighs as he blew again and again on her ticklish stomach. Pinned to the ground she could only squirm and giggle helplessly. As very small elflings he used to do this to his sons until they screeched with laughter. Envinyatarë sounded very much like them until he finally took pity on her and quit.

Panting weakly she gasped. “Mercy!“ she begged. “You have thoroughly chastised me.”

Placing small kisses on her stomach Thandronen raised his head and chuckled. Fingers sifting through his hair stilled and her gaze shifted to his and softened. “How very dangerous you truly are.”

Pure deviltry turned up the corners of his mouth. Firelight glinted from eyes filled with sensual laughter. “Was it not you who observed not too many hours past that I did not look at all dangerous?”

She wrapped a russet strand around her thumb and gave a little tug, lips twitching, “That was before I saw you smile.”

Rolling to his back Thandronen pulled her across him, long silver white hair tumbling low on his ribs. Straddling his thighs she pushed herself up to look at him in question. His eyes darkening he responded, “I am very dangerous. Let me show you.“ Envinyatarë blinked. Caught between them she could feel his sex lengthening and thickening against the softness of her stomach. Using her forearms she pulled herself forward until they were nearly nose to nose. Thandronen grunted as her sharp little elbows dug into his midriff and chest.

“Again? So soon?” Her eyes sparkled.

Catching her mouth in an indolent kiss that deepened until she was near senseless, he slid his hands up to her waist and lifted her. Easing her down over the fullness of his throbbing erection he smiled lazily up at her, observing the slightly dazed look on her face. “Judge for yourself.” Thandronen rested his hands on her thighs. “You are in control. I am at your command.”

Envinyatarë looked thoughtful and wiggled experimentally. Bracing her hands on his chest, a slow smile spread across her face. “Indeed,”


~*~

Thandronen pulled her down on his heaving chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead. *I am getting too old for this,* he thought.

“You are not old at all,” Envinyatarë assured him.

Thandronen was irked. “Do you read every thought in my head?” he demanded.

Remorse rearranged her features, “I am sorry. Please forgive me. It is just that I am so hungry for your company and conversation that I seize anything you offer, be it your words or your thoughts.” She looked away, “It is very rude of me and I will endeavor to stay out of your mind.” She offered him a wry smile when her eyes returned to his. “As you can imagine, Melkor was not the most amiable of conversationalists when he did come to visit. It seems he only had the one interest; it made him quite a great bore.”

Thandronen shook his head in disbelief. “That you can jest on such a thing is beyond me.”

She smiled. “I will allow it is difficult at times but then, what choice do I have?” Envinyatarë stirred. “But he is gone now you tell me and for many, many hundreds of years. Middle-Earth must be a fair and wondrous place now without his dark hand upon it.”

Thandronen didn’t answer immediately and when he did he chose his words with care. “All evil did not leave Middle-Earth when he was thrown into the Void. He left those behind just as malevolent and just as ambitious to carry on his foul campaign.”

She listened wide-eyed as Thandronen gave her a brief history, making an occasional soft sound of consternation. “Then he was defeated, this dark lieutenant of Melkor’s?”

“Defeated but not destroyed and it is said when he gathers power enough Sauron will take physical form again.”

“Sauron?” She jerked as though she’d been struck. “Did you say Sauron?”

The captain tilted his head to better see her expression in the firelight. “You know of him?”

She sat up abruptly wrapping her arms around her knees and the elf sat up with her. Tilting her head back she studied the soft light of the stars. “He accompanied Melkor three, no four times, I think on one of his ‘visits‘ to me. He just stood back to one side and observed; he never spoke. It was as though he was a student come for instruction. Perhaps he was.” A shudder passed through her body remembering his hooded eyes, mockingly cold and merciless, watching as Melkor exercised both torment and persuasion attempting to bend her to his will. “I would have hoped Ada and the rest of the Valar would have had the good sense to toss him out with Melkor but it appears they did not!” Her voice was a blend of tartness and anxiety.

Lost in their thoughts neither said anything for a long while. Envinyatarë stirred and shook herself.

“How quickly the night passes in your company. I will be sorry when the dawn comes.”

Thandronen leaned closer and brushed his lips against her cheekbones. “I will return as quickly as I can. You will be free from here, I swear it.”

Envinyatarë lay back down. Thandronen reclined beside her and when he made a movement as though to kiss her she wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and stopped him. She wondered how she could tell this brave and earnest captain that her heart embraced no hope. His blue-green eyes burned with the intensity of his conviction. The deep undertones of his voice vibrated with his unshakable confidence.

How could she tell him that Oromë had searched for her and Nárion and had found them once?
Found them and failed to free them?

The Vala had trembled both in his joy at discovering them and in his rage at their captivity. But try as he might his vast strength and power had not been great enough to free them. In a last desperate bid he set them upon Nahar’s broad back and tried to lead them across Melkor’s barrier. The mighty stallion danced with impatience, powerful muscles shuddering and straining under his glossy coat but he could not cross it. He struggled mightily against the enchantment that held his four massive hoofs to the ground. When he began to trumpet and plunge wildly in his panicked frenzy, Nárion had slipped from his back pulling Envinyatarë with him fearing the horse would do himself an injury.

Oromë left them with a vow to return with Aulë and Manwë. They would break apart the earth if they must, he swore, but the twins would be freed. He embraced them both and wept openly as he rode away. Hands upraised in farewell he left them with relief and hope in their hearts. If they could but hold out a little longer, their release would be secured.

It was a hope that was destined to be short lived. Melkor had nearly stumbled upon the three of them. Seeing the other Vala with the twins he had quickly hid himself. His anger built as he watched and listened. He feared his would lose his prize.

Upon Oromë’s departure he presented himself to the twins and demanded they swear their allegiance to him. They resisted with renewed vigor. Incensed he raised his spear and skewered Nárion.

Thandronen watched Envinyatarë close her eyes tightly not knowing it was the vision of the spear point sinking into her brother’s flesh that she tried to shut out. Even the sound of breaking ribs as it entered his midriff and exited from his back was just as vivid as it was that day so long ago. She half sobbed, half gasped, remembering how she had added her screams to his until he had struggled no more.

Before he departed, Melkor deepened the strength of the barrier so none would see or hear her. He bore Nárion’s body aloft on his spear like a banner and left her hoarse and weeping alone in her grief.

True to his word, Oromë returned bringing not only Manwë and Aulë ,but Tulkas as well. The warrior Vala was hoping mightily to get his hands on Melkor. But the nature of the wall was such that she was invisible to them. They passed so close she could nearly touch them but they could neither see her nor hear her and eventually, in great bitterness, they abandoned their search.

She did not feel Thandronen gently cup her cheek, the big palm resting lightly at her jaw line. A darkly terrible memory disturbed her. He could see the shadows of it moving deep in the shimmering windows of her eyes. She was not aware her lower lip was trembling until Thandronen stilled it with his thumb, marveling again at its softness. Her gaze caught his and she tried to smile, shifting herself a little closer to him.

No, she would not tell him.

Her hand slid down and rested on his chest and she could feel a steady, strong thud beneath her fingers. “You have a kind and generous heart, Captain Thandronen of the Galadhrim.”

The elf tried to think of something to say. He cast about in his mind desperately for words of reassurance to offer and failed. None seemed suitable to relieve the magnitude of her desolation. Instead he gently gathered her close against him. Her arms crept eagerly around him and her hands smoothed down his sleekly muscled back and hips. Thandronen pressed soft and ardent kisses to her throat and breasts before catching her mouth with his own. Pulling her beneath him he offered her the comfort of himself and she clung to him as her only solid anchor in the tempest of her life.

~*~

Haldir sharply reined in his horse and dismounted. He was closely followed by the sons of Thandronen as he walked beside the flattened grasses. The three elves silently studied the ground before them.

“They have met up with a larger party,” the Marchwarden’s voice was low and quiet on the chilled night air.

Ferevellon did not take his eyes off the ground. “How many do you think?”

Looking back briefly the way they had come Haldir appeared to be considering, “We have been following along with a group of six maybe ten.” His gloved hand swept along the churned ground. “I would estimate they have joined with another party of at least thirty or more.”

For some time there was only the stamping and blowing of the horses and the whisper of the grasses disturbed by a light breeze from the west. It stirred and swirled around the soft boots of the elves. Part of Haldir noted the scent of night blooming jasmine mingled with the sweet fragrance of another flower he could not identify. He was grateful for the relief they gave from the stench left behind by the yrch.

Absently stroking the nose of his white faced horse to calm it, Fereveldir noted, “They are heading in the direction of Ghost Rock. I do not like it. I do not like it at all. If Ada made it that far, that is where he would rest for the night. You know he thinks the old tales about it are pure foolishness.” He glanced at Haldir. “How far behind them are we do you think?”

“An hour, maybe less.” Haldir searched the night sky. “Dawn is nearing. You may be right; the yrch will mostly likely spend the day there.” Mounting his horse with a snap of his cloak he did not give voice to his uneasy agreement that injured Thandronen would likely have passed the night there.

The younger elves vaulted into the saddles of their mounts. “If Ada is wounded and unable to fight well, he may not be able to handle so many,” Ferevellon worried.

“Come now,” Haldir chided. “You have fought many times with Captain Thandronen. Even wounded you know he is quite formidable.” With a word to his horse he moved onwards. Fereveldir looked to his brother who merely nodded. Holding hope in their hearts the two brothers urged their mounts to follow, young faces set in grim lines.


calad dithen nín - my little light (Thanks Mal!)
“None but the brave deserves the fair” - John Dryden