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[gondolin_noble]

It's a peaceful evening in the valley - maybe a little too quiet, with Celebrian and her two sons gone to see her parents in Lothlorien. Now that the sons are both well-grown and trained to Glorfindel's standards, he felt comfortable letting them take command of the guard on that particular journey.

It helps that he's personally been over that pass quite a few times this season, and hasn't found any signs of trouble. Not that he'll ever tell the twins that, of course.

Still, it's a very nice evening, a good one to sit with a book and listen to the water (and the never-ending minstrels).

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[starrydome]

Elrond has been in his study most of the day, but has left it a little while ago to take a walk in the gardens. He needed some air to clear his head, but somehow his little stroll is having the opposite effect.

There is a sense of growing unease within him, vague and directionless.

As if the winds were whispering of evil things yet to come.

He is standing still now, eyes closed. Listening. To the wind and the water and the first stars.

[gondolin_noble]

Long habit makes him look up when he hears footsteps in the garden, and Elrond's posture makes him abandon book and rather comfortable chair to go see what is amiss.

"Have you finally run out of paperwork?"

[starrydome]

"It is not that," Elrond answers, absentmindedly.
It is not that he is given to flights of fancy. But at times, the wise will learn things by means not available to all.

And then there's the influence of the - object, safely tucked away in his study. He does not wear his King's ring often, but even when it lies elsewhere it leaves a weight in his finger and in his mind. Always present. Always watchful.

Whispering.

His eyes drift fully shut as he listens.

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel's eyes narrow, for he has no love whatsoever for that ring, and would cheerfully see it destroyed at any time his lord commanded.

He knows this is unlikely to happen, but an elf can dream.

Not given a command, he stands ready and watchful - it's unlike Elrond to become so riled for no reason.

[starrydome]

And then his eyes open, wide and filled with dread.

" Yrch, " he whispers and then he turns to run toward the stables. Confident that this is all the information Glorfindel will need.

[gondolin_noble]

Sometimes, folk would ask why Glorfindel felt the need to drill Imladris' soldiers so long, and so hard. How one elf could be so determined to see almost every sunrise and greet it with a punishing run over the valley's steeper paths.

The why is because it takes only finding one of the guards and a brief command to bring the entire force on alert, and he doesn't have to watch and make sure that word spreads - he can safely leave that in the hands of others and go chase down his lord. There's a fear he's harboring, that he's trying to dismiss - it can't be, because there was no sign of danger, none at all, he was through that pass just last week and his greatest foe was sheer boredom.

But there would be no call to rush for the horses if it was yrch at the borders.

[starrydome]

When he catches up with Elrond, the look of tightly controlled terror in his eyes will be all the answer he needs.

"They are almost there," he says in an undertone, before calling out to his horse, still running.

If they are going into battle, he will need a saddle.

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel drops back again, swearing softly and feelingly under his breath before collaring the next guard he passes and issuing a new set of orders - close the borders of Imladris, get a mounted troupe ready, alert the healers and make certain they are guarded, and for the love of all that's holy, someone go get his armor, and Lord Elrond's? Sometime before the next age?

It's like poking a stick into an ant's nest, the way Imladris goes from utterly peaceful to boiling over with purposeful action. Soon Glorfindel is storming into the stables, two younger elves scurrying in his wake with the requested armor - if Elrond thinks he's getting out of this building without proper protection, Glorfindel has news for him.

[starrydome]

Elrond's stallion is dancing, unsettled by its master's urgency. Already saddled and ready to go.

To the eyes of the young elves, the Master of the House is pale but calm. Those who know him better can see how he is striving to seem that way. Those who know him being Glorfindel in this case.

He has one foot in the stirrup already.

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel knows better than to argue in front of the two young elves - there will be need to have absolute faith in the leadership of this enterprise by the end of the day, and arguing now will only hurt that.

So he simply acts as if it is a given that Elrond will give in to his demands, holding up the padded undercoat patiently.

[starrydome]

There is a brief moment where it seems that it will not be a given - and then Elrond lets go of his horse with a soft command and moves to take the padded undershirt.

His fingers are steady. His breathing is even. But his cheeks are flushed and Glorfindel will be able to feel his pulse, hard enough to make itself known even at the tip of his fingers.

"We will have to split up," he says. "Some should go by the hunter's trail."
Faster but not suitable to a large contingent of riders.

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel does not pause to gloat over his victory, instead following suit and allowing those two poor young elves to get on with their jobs.

(There are tiny golden flowers in the seams of his armor, a small rememberance to an older time.)

"The scouts are gone already down both paths, and the larger party will be fully assembled and gone almost before we are."

Glorfindel isn't going to let Elrond out of his sight, no. He severely dislikes his lord's mood at the moment.

[starrydome]

Elrond finishes tightening the fastenings on his own armour and looks at Glorfindel.
"When we get there, find Elladan and Elrohir," he says. "Promise me that."

[gondolin_noble]

"It will be as you say." Glorfindel solemnly replies, accepting the swords the young elves are carrying and sending the pair scurrying off. He waits until they are out of easy earshot before offering Elrond his sword.

And he keeps his grip on it when Elrond goes to take it, making sure he has his lord's attention.

"Keep your head." He orders in return, clearly worried. "Your injury or death will not aid them."

...

He's a fine one to talk.

[starrydome]

Elrond's jaw clenches. Then he nods.

It is only after he his swords hangs at his side that he says, "I cannot look for them. I have to go to Celebrian."
That is what he had seen then.

He tightens his vambraces and calls to his horse. His face is a mask, calm.
He remembers Eregion. Being too late. Celebrimbor's flayed skin flapping in the breeze.

[gondolin_noble]

Asfaloth (the sixth) is hard on the heels of Elrond's stallion, and thankfully someone has managed to saddle him - Glorfindel has no faith in Elrond's willingness to brook further delays.

He is in the saddle a heartbeat behind Elrond, and he's calling to his captains as he and Elrond leave the stables.

[starrydome]

Elves have perfect memory.

But later, Elrond remembers very, very little from the ride.it seemed like they rode forever, being whipped in the face by branches.

As if their horses had wings.

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel could wish that they did - the scouts (pale and outraged) rejoin the group sooner than he expected them. He could not be prouder of Elrond's sons, even as he wishes that they hadn't had to prove themselves.

They are still in the forests in the foothills of the mountains when they hear that what they are hunting - the voices of elves, and the cries of yrch.

[starrydome]

They all know these forests and so placing the sounds is not hard.

There is a clearing a little to the West and there is no doubt that the sounds originate from there. The sounds of far too many orcs. Elrond reins in his horse and looks back at Glorfindel.
"Two groups or three?"

There are at least three paths to the clearing, the biggest being the one they are already on. The others are narrower. Slower.

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel frowns, but there isn't time to debate the options at length. He does split the group into three, but unevenly - two he sends to go find the larger party that has gone by the Green road, the rest he divides into two, sending one group to circle around and hopefully attack once the orcs are thoroughly distracted. He gives them a few moments to get clear, then cannot wait any longer.

"Ride on!" It's a roar, a challenge, an implicit promise. "Imladris to Celebrian!"

[starrydome]

And Imladris rides, the horses thundering ahead like an unstoppable wave.

And the only thing Elrond can hear is his own heart beating.
As long as it beats, he thinks, she lives.

The clearing is a nightmare. Red blood screaming against the green grass, the glint of steel, the stench of orcs heavy in the air.
There are so many.

But Elrond only sees Celebrian. Like a white flower in the sea of violence. He spurs his horse and it leaps over the orcs rushing at him.
He does not fear for the others. His sons, the ones following him. They have Glorfindel.

He is grazed by a arrow and he doesn't even realize it.

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel falls upon the orcs like an avenging Maia, leading the charge to create a wall of armored defense between the exhausted elves and the foul creatures that hunted them. The element of surprise only lasts so long - the orcs have superior numbers, and the shade under the trees is deep. Glorfindel is hard-pressed to maintain the line of defense, and his grief from each elf that falls only adds to the fury of his defense.

And then comes the most beautiful sound in Arda - the clear brave sound of elvish horns as the main war party charges into view and turns the tide in their favor.

[starrydome]

Elrond moves through the cluster of orcs in front of his wife like a blade through smoke.

One of the orcs manages to get through his defense, aiming for his neck. He falls back and the blade cuts across his shoulder instead. He's lost the plate covering it. Possibly right after it deflected an arrow that nicked his arm instead.

(He's broken it off. No sense in trying to do anything about the tip. It would merely start bleeding. And he can move.)

It's a deep gash and it should worry him that he doesn't really feel any pain. But it doesn't.

Celebrian is on the ground. Eyes closed. She is breathing .
Her dress is torn.

His hands slip on the hilt of his sword. It's slick. It hasn't felt that way in ages. He still manages to bury it in the gut of the Orc in front of her. And when it falls, the weight of the body pulls it from his hands.

He doesn't try to retrieve it.

Instead, he unclasps his cloak with clumsy fingers.
(Possibly poison. Maybe just nerves that have been damaged by either blade or arrow)
He drapes it over her body. Warming her. Hiding the tatters. And the blood.

"I'm here, love." Murmured too softly to be heard over the din. She opens her eyes.

He doesn't see the orc throwing itself at them, sword raised.

[gondolin_noble]

Thankfully, Glorfindel does. Yes, he swore to find and protect the twins, and he is, but there are older oaths at play here, and he cannot (will not) forget them.

Thus, it is a conscious decision to turn his back on the latest wave of orcs so he can draw one of his knives and send it and send it flying across the open space in a shining arc. It sinks into the threatening orc's eye to the hilt, but he has his hand on his other knife, just in case. He waits to see the orc drop before turning back to his own fight, almost entirely too late. He catches a black orc blade along his ribs, the armor turning most of the force but eliciting a pained grunt before Glorfindel can return the favor and send the creature's head rolling in a different direction than its body.

[starrydome]

Elrond pays no attention to the din around them. He is stroking his wife's hair, whispering to her.

His fingers are leaving bloody marks on her skin and he wipes them as well as he can on the trampled grass, but cut on his shoulder is weeping and the blood runs down his arm.

She's not hurt. Elsewhere. So she can be moved. But he doesn't trusts his arms to lift her and so they stay on the ground, his body shielding hers.