Edraith
Elrond stayed for the rest of the day, talking with you in the library while you reshelved books and rearranged spell cards that were stored in drawers along one wall. He was curious about lore mastery and how you came to be in Celondim. You told him you come from a long line of lore masters and your grandparents came from Celondim so your presence there was inevitable. He looked at you curiously then, as though he was trying to work out who your family was. You turned the conversation around to him as often as you could though, asking after his own family and life as the king’s herald. He was passionate about his work and respected Gil-galad in a way you found charming. Yet, the more you talked, the more you realised there was a loneliness about Elrond that he perhaps kept veiled by his attentiveness and concern for others. You wondered if anyone had ever been as concerned about him as he was for everyone else.
After a cosy dinner shared in front of the fireplace in your quarters above the library, Elrond left for Lindon with a promise to send a message as soon as he returned. But after seven days, no message came and no errand required you to return to Lindon. The silence felt ominous. It wasn’t like Elrond to not keep his word, so you decide to head down to Celondim’s market square and see if you could gain some insight into where the king’s herald might be. He wasn’t generally at the forefront of town gossip but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
With a basket in hand and a handful of coins from the library’s repository, you slid quietly through the stalls, pretending to take interest in the various inks and quills for sale, alongside reams of parchment and elegant scroll cases. As you picked up an adorable parchment weight carved from stone into the shape of a frog, the customer next to you sparked a conversation with the seller.
“Did you hear about the Bandits? They have built a camp on the border of Rath Teraig.”
“But wardens are stationed there.” The seller replied.
“Indeed. They were attacked last night by orcs that have been prowling the woods nearby. They had to leave their post to transport the injured back to the Grey Havens.”
The seller sighed, nodding their head. “Orcs are getting too close to the towns for comfort. The king needs to do something.”
“That is not all.” The customer leaned closer to the seller. “The bandits took the opportunity to move in and block the main pass to Lindon. Until the king can send reinforcements, Lindon is completely isolated. Nobody goes in and nobody goes out except for the king’s herald who apparently is missing—“
“Excuse me.” You interrupted, startling the customer. “Did you say the king’s herald is missing?”
The customer looked you up and down, taking in your lore master robes and the veil you liked to wear for aesthetic's sake. “That is what the stable master has been saying.”
“Since when? How long ago was this reported?”
“Two, perhaps three days.”
You calmly set the frog parchment weight down and nodded your thanks before stepping out of the stall.
Elrond was missing. That might’ve explained why you hadn’t heard from him but he left Celondim seven days before and the customer had said the bandit attack was three days ago. He should have passed by the Grey Havens long before then. You tried not to panic as you pushed the door to the library open and dumped your basket on the floor before heading straight for the main table where you’d spread out Elrond’s gift to the library – a detailed map of Lindon, the Grey Havens and the surrounding woodlands.
A grey paw appeared on one corner of the map and you smiled. “Freda.” You said, scratching under the cat’s chin.
“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you but I have to run out again.”
Freda purred, rolling over onto her back for a belly rub. “I promise I won’t be gone long.”
You plant a kiss on Freda’s head before rolling up the map and casting the Dismiss Companion spell.
Freda disappeared as though she was never there.
***
Skilled lore masters could conjure animal companions at will, although unfortunately for you, you had yet to learn the spell for conjuring a horse so you headed down to the stables to borrow one.
The stable master was reluctant to give you one of his beloved mares due to the rumours about the bandits, so you had to make do with a young bay pony, only recently broken in.
“That will do.” You said, handing over the coin. “What’s the pony's name?”
The stable master shrugged, turning his attention back to a steed with a shining, black coat. You sighed, leading the pony to the road where you quietly cast a Calming spell. If you were going to be riding into orc-ridden lands, you couldn’t have an easily spooked pony run out on you.
“I’ll think of a name for you.” You said, as you set off up the hill towards Duillond.
***
You’d ridden to Lindon many times, always keeping to the roads and paths established by the king’s wardens. However, after consulting Elrond’s map earlier, you’d decided on a different route that would take you through a thick patch of woodlands. Considering the possibility of orcs lurking in the trees, you knew this was a dangerous choice. But coming across bandits on the road would’ve been much more treacherous.
Once you had settled into the saddle, you cast three spells; one to obscure you and the pony from sight, one to cover up your scents, and one to soften the pony’s footfalls. Orcs had even better hearing than elves so being scentless and silent would go a long way in passing them undetected.
As you moved through the first line of trees and into the shadows, the air became heavier with humidity and an eerie silence draped over you, unsettling and foreboding. Not a single bird chirped from the boughs as you passed beneath them and when a branch snapped somewhere in the distance, you felt the pony tense beneath you. With the reins gripped in one hand, you reached forward to rub his neck in soothing circles. You could do this. You both could. You just needed to be brave and find Elrond before anything happened to him.
After a few hours, you reached a stream that split the woods in half. While you were certain you knew which direction Lindon was in, you couldn’t be sure which way Elrond might have gone. The sun was already beginning to set so you needed to get out of the woods as soon as possible. You were about to guide your steed across the stream when you heard a sound of metal on metal followed by a snarl. You froze, willing yourself and the pony to stay calm. Whatever it was, wouldn’t be able to see or smell you, unless you’d done the spells incorrectly - always a possibility when under duress.
You turned your head slowly to look over your shoulder to discover there were not one but two orcs standing less than five feet away, and they didn’t appear to know you were there. Breathing out a sigh, you watched as the two orcs launched into what can only be described as a petty squabble. But it was what they were squabbling over that stopped you from attempting to eliminate them straight away.
“It’s mine!
“I found it first!
“No, you bloody didn’t! I’m the one who tripped the frilly elfling bastard!”
“Yeah? Well, Murag was the one who strung him up!”
“I don’t bleedin’ care what Murag did! The brooch is mine!”
You swallowed as one of them held up something as round and silver as the moon.
Elrond’s brooch – the one he always wore that you wanted to ask him about but somehow, couldn’t find the courage to.
A quiet rage filled your blood as you pulled off your veil, tucking it safely into your robes before reaching back for your staff and sliding down from the pony’s saddle to the soft forest floor.
***
As silently as you could, you led the pony to the stream to drink before casting a Stillness spell so it would stay put while you followed the orcs deeper into the woods.
You trailed them as they jumped over the stream, bickering as they stomped through the undergrowth. Eventually, they stepped into a small clearing where two more orcs stood around a blazing fire while a third, larger one stood to the side, tossing an axe from hand to hand. By the way it was looming over the others, you suspected it to be the leader of the group and likely this “Murag” the other two had been talking about.
“Where have you two pig-heads been?” Murag growled, stepping towards the others.
What you saw behind him almost pushed you to your knees. Elrond had been strung up by his arms between two trees, his feet barely touching the ground. With a hand clasped over your mouth to stifle a scream, you watched as Murag turned and pulled on one of the ropes. Elrond, like a puppet on a string, flopped backwards, his head tilting to reveal his face, bruised and streaked with blood. His hair was a tangled mess and his robes were torn revealing the pale gleam of his chest. In the light of the fire, it looked utterly horrific and bile rose in your throat but you quelled it down. You couldn’t lose your head now, not when Elrond needed you most.
Clasping your staff between your hands, you closed your eyes and muttered the incantation for the Obliteration spell. You knew casting this spell would break the ones you’d cast earlier, making you visible to the orcs, but it couldn’t be helped. A stream of blue light shot out of the staff as you swung it in a wide arc, sending the five orcs backwards, crashing into the trees. The force of the spell banked the fire to embers, plunging the clearing into almost total darkness, save for the scythe moon’s light through the canopy of trees.
As the orcs, dazed, rose slowly to their feet, you quickly cast a Friend of Bears spell and with a roar, your bear companion Brius appeared at your side, his large paws beating his chest in a show of aggression. He immediately raced towards the two orcs with the brooch, while the other two made a beeline for you but you pushed them back with a Blinding Flash spell, stunning them again while you hurriedly cast a Lightning Strike directly above them.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Murag move towards Elrond’s body and you roared right alongside Brius.
“Don’t you dare touch him!” You scream, casting a Power of Knowledge spell. Three spears of yellow light surge towards Murag and plunge into his chest. Dropping your staff to the ground you pull on them like ropes, drawing Murag’s power from him and transferring it into you.
Brius had made quick work of the two orcs, their bodies lying limp next to the banked fire. He was already running towards the other two who were attempting to escape. You weren’t sure how many more spells you could cast without depleting your energy levels and Power of Knowledge was an intense spell. There was one more thing you could try, so you like the spell diminish and pick up your staff. It was dangerous but it was the only way you could use the last of your power effectively. You took a deep breath as you cast the Burning Embers spell. Red-hot cinders leapt from the fire into the air, blazing hot as though they’d just been lit.
“Over here!” You shout and as Murag turns towards you, you cast a Gust of Wind spell to blow the embers right into his hideous face.
He fell to the forest floor with a heavy thud and your beloved Brius fell on top of him and tore his head from his shoulders in one swift movement.
The forest was silent except for your laboured breathing and Brius, whose bloody mouth brushed your arm startled you.
“Oh, Brius.” You patted him on the head between his ears.
“You're such a good boy.”
Brius whined and you realised then that he was injured; a long gash ran down the length of his left side. You knew that he was asking you to release him so he could recuperate, so with a final pat you utter the spell and he disappears into nothing.
You waste no time getting to Elrond, his poor, broken body slumped against the ropes that you fight to loosen with your energy so low. Tears blur your eyes as you use a Knowledge of Cures spell on the worst of his wounds. When you finally free him from the binds, you slide beneath one of his arms and carry him back to where you left the pony by the stream.
You were crying hard, overwhelmed by the fight and the fear that Elrond may not make the journey back to Celondim. Your heart beat wildly in your chest and you were weak, so weak you feared you’d drop Elrond and it would have all been for nothing. No doubt more orcs were in the area and could come looking after the noise the battle had made.
On knees that were close to giving out, you pushed on. Then a sound, quiet and breathy brushes against your cheek. You turn to find Elrond looking at you through bleary, blood shot eyes. His cracked lips forming a word you don't recall ever telling him.
Your name.
“It’s alright.” You reassured him, tucking a lock of damp hair behind his pointed ear.
“You’re safe now.”