Chapter Text
There was a darkness creeping over the skies that greatly bothered Lord Elrond, the intensity of it making his skin crawl. Nothing seemed amiss, but the feeling persisted and the lord of Imladris worried what it meant. A headache was starting in the middle of his forehead, slowly spreading inside his skull. Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose and peered out the window of his study.
He was only procrastinating further. There were so many documents to look over on his desk, but his mind was elsewhere, looking over the horizon and searching, but for what he did not know. Part of him wanted to unload more duties onto Lindir, his newly appointed assistant, but the young minstrel already did so much for him. If any more work was given to him, though Lindir would gladly take it, Elrond would only feel guilt.
A guard was suddenly in the doorway, fully armored and stern faced. Elrond had heard the ellon before he saw him, and worried what news would come today. Perhaps his feeling of dread was more foresight.
“My lord, orcs have been spotted past the borders. Scouts have already been sent, but there are many.”
Elrond nodded before standing from the desk in his study, calling Lindir’s attention.
“Prepare my armor,” he commanded. Lindir quickly complied and left the study for Elrond’s chambers.
Elrond turned back to the guard before him. “I will join you. Bring your patrol to the north gate.”
“Yes, my lord.” The ellon bowed before heading back down to the guardhouse.
Elrond sighed as he made his way to his room. Orcs had been more bold as of late and it worried him greatly. He vowed to keep his city safe, to keep his family safe, and while there were plenty of capable soldiers within Imladris, it did not ease him. He would need to dispose of the foul beasts himself to feel better.
When he entered his chambers, he was met with Celebrían rather than Lindir. She frowned at him, holding his hunting circlet in her hands.
“My armor?” He asked.
“I seem to have chased Lindir away. I will prepare you.”
“Meleth,” he began l but she silenced him with a look.
“You will come back to me whole.” It was a command.
“I will,” he said kissing her cheek. “I promise.”
The silver haired elleth let out a sigh as she helped him into his armor. Though it had been long since he had donned it, she assembled it with practiced ease. Her brow was still furrowed and he knew it was a sign of worry. He took a moment to pull her in, laying a soothing kiss upon her forehead.
“It may be nothing,” he assured her. “But stay with the children. They may be frightened.”
“Your sons would likely follow you if I did not keep them entertained,” she huffed, some of her humor returning. “I will not tell them until you have gone. They are far too young to hunt orcs.”
He chuckled with her, picturing his boys. They were past their majority but still childish in their actions and full of energy. He wondered if he and Elros had run his Atya ragged as much as his own sons did to him. At least Arwen was a quiet child compared to her two older brothers. She most likely inherited that trait from her mother.
Elrond needed to go, though he loathed to leave his wife behind. Still, he knew he must and he promised to be safe and return unharmed. He did not doubt he could keep his promise, especially with the large party he was taking out to hunt orcs. It was still hard for him to leave.
———
Elrond led the party toward a clearing surrounded on one side by cliffs and a forest on the other. There he could see bodies laying. The stench as they approached was overwhelming and he knew it at once. Dead orc. The dark bodies, further darkened by black blood, were scattered about in the field. There were at least twenty of them. The party of elves slowed their pace as they all wondered who had slain these orcs.
“My lord!” One of the guards shouted as they sliced an arrow that was headed toward Lord Elrond.
“Behind the rocks!” Elrond shouted drawing his own sword. “Ready yourselves.”
His archers aimed and began firing at the orcs as they peered above the rocks they hid behind. They had the high ground, but elves were faster. The guards not firing arrows dismounted and rushed forward to meet the orcs head on upon the rocky footing.
There did not appear to be too many left to pick off, most of the orcs having already been slain by an unknown force. It was also possible the orcs had killed each other, but Elrond would worry about that later. He was currently slicing through the ones who remained, black blood spraying across his gold armor.
The final orc that met his blade was the last of the group to fall. The guards mounted their horses once more and stalked the perimeter of the field to scout the area afraid of spotting more of the foul beasts. They were lucky there had been no warg riders, but his soldiers looked for any signs of them regardless. One of the archers signaled to Elrond, calling him over to the tree line. The lord rushed towards him, blade drawn, but quickly put it away when he saw what lie just beyond the forest.
An over turned cart shielded most of the damage, but Elrond could see the bodies and supplies strewn about the forest floor. They were elves. Too few to protect their goods and themselves from such a large party of orcs, though it seemed they had killed quite a few. One of his guards knelt down by a fallen ellon. He was dressed in light brown armor, his bow broken by his side. Elrond’s guard lifted the body to lay him on his back. The emblem on the front of his leather chest plate was a gold leaf pattern.
“Mirkwood elves,” the guard stated. “Merchants perhaps? They were not prepared for such a fight.”
“Such a loss,” Elrond agreed as he descended from his saddle. He and a few of the guards went from body to body trying to see if they recognized any of the faces, but sadly they did not.
“I will send word to King Thranduil. Surely he will notify their families,” Elrond said solemnly. “Let us take them back with us. We will give them proper rites. Is the cart still usable?”
“It should be, my lord,” one of the guards said as he moved towards it. “I will make sure.”
Elrond nodded and turned to lift one of his fallen kin when a soft cry startled the ellyn. Elrond turned, recognizing the sound as a person, though it seemed all were dead. The guard that was examining the cart dropped to his knees to peer underneath and cursed at what he saw.
“Help me lift this!” He shouted and Elrond watched as two others jumped to set the cart right.
The crying had ceased as suddenly as it had come, now just barely-there whimpers coming from beneath the cart. Elrond was shocked at what he was seeing. A woman, seemingly young, was laying on her side having taken shelter under the cart. Beneath her outstretched arm, she protectively held onto a bundle of cloth. She had bled heavily if the blood pooling around her was any indication. There was so much of it, Elrond wondered if it was all hers. The wound on her back was black, the flesh torn unevenly. An orc had gotten her. Her breath was coming out shuddered and rough, as if a lung had been punctured and as she breathed, more blood dripped from her mouth and nose.
Elrond knelt by the woman, gently laying his hand on her shoulder. She startled, coughing up more blood at the shock.
“Peace,” he soothed. “It is alright.”
Elrond reached out to Vilya, calling the power on the ring forward in his mind. The soft buzzing began first in his fingertips and slowly crawled through every nerve until it reached his mind. It stung, but he fought the discomfort. The wound was bad and poisoned with something crude of orcish make. It did not look promising.
As gently as he could, Elrond, with the help of another, turned her onto her back making her cry out. The woman’s hand struggled to hold the bundle to her chest, but her grip was faltering as she quickly faded.
Elrond lay his hand on the woman’s forehead, brushing back her dark hair. It was now he noticed that she was edain, which explained why neither Vilya nor his own fëa could help. Even if she had eldar blood, Elrond believed she was too far gone.
“I am sorry,” he apologized to the woman though he was unsure if she could comprehend. “There is nothing I can do.”
“Please,” she croaked horridly. “Ple-.”
The desperation in the woman’s eyes pained Elrond and he winced as Vilya’s buzzing receded, the sensation only adding to his discomfort. The least he could do for the woman was comfort her as she passed into the halls of Mandos.
“Your injury is too severe,” he said as he brought her pain into himself. He wanted her to go peacefully. “You need to rest now.”
“Take,” the woman began, but she struggled to breathe. “Take her.”
Elrond looked at the woman in confusion, his brow furrowed.
“Please,” she begged and with all the strength left in her, pushed the bloodied bundle forward to Elrond. “Tell her she-she was-.”
This time it was a sob followed by more coughing, tiny flecks of blood hitting both Elrond and the guard. Neither of them seemed to notice, too focused on revealing what the woman had given her life to protect. Peeling away the layers, the lord was surprised to find a baby and even more surprised to find she was alright. There were no injuries that he could see, though the bundle was covered in blood. The little child blinked with owlish eyes too big for her body before reaching out to him trying to grasp her tiny hands in his hair. She had no idea the horror her family had just witnessed-what they had gone through to protect her. She simply rested peacefully, content at being held, not a tear in sight.
“Tell her we loved her,” the woman finally whispered as she watched Elrond hold her daughter. “Her father-,” the woman gasped as she turned her head with great effort to face one of the ellyn who had long passed. “We loved her.”
“She will be looked after,” Elrond promised, pulling the child to his chest. “What name have you given her?”
The woman did not answer. One last shuddering breath left her lips as her eyes unfocused, all the light in her disappearing. She too had passed on, but with peace knowing her daughter would live.
The child in his arms began whining as if she knew she was now alone in the world and Elrond, ever doting, began soothing the tiny thing. He ran his fingers over the soft hair atop her head and was reminded of fond memories raising his own children. He noticed her ears then. Mostly rounded, but with a small point. She was peredhel, like himself.
“My lord,” the guard beside him spoke. “Would you like me to carry her back?”
“No,” Elrond decided. “I will take her myself. Please bring the others. I will have Lindir make preparations for them.”
“Yes, my lord.”
———
Though Elrond was no stranger to children, he had little idea of what to do with the one currently in his care. He wondered if she still had family left and how they would get her home. She was a quiet child, only whining briefly before allowing the lord to comfort her. Rocking seemed the easiest way to get her to sleep and so he did so as he stood in his room. He had somehow managed to get most of his own armor off while Lindir held the baby though he looked quite uncomfortable doing so. Eventually he settled for cocooning her in a blanket and setting her on the bed.
A million things ran through his mind, the foremost being where they had stored the crib. It had not used it in so long, he did not remember where it was and his headache was returning so he could not think properly.
With a sigh, he settled next to the child on the bed, his hand immediately finding her much smaller one. It had been so long since they had had one so small in their home, he wondered if Celebrían would know what to do or perhaps where the crib was. He no longer had the energy to think.
“I wondered if it was true,” her voice fluttered through the doorway. “Are they harmed?”
“No,” Elrond muttered, his mind and body tired, barely enough energy in him to wonder who had told his wife about the baby. “Thankfully she is not. Her mother did not last. I assume her father was also among the fallen. They will be laid to rest properly. I have left it to Lindir to manage.”
“I see. It is quite unusual for humans to reside in Mirkwood,” Celebrían hummed, as she picked up the baby from the bed, cradling her in her arms.
“Oh, what a pretty little thing you are!” She cooed making the child smile up at her. The little girl reached out to the elleth and tried grabbing onto one of her fingers making Celebrían laugh. The Lady of Imladris sat herself next to her husband, settling her head on his shoulder. She saw the child’s ears then.
“She is like you, isn’t she?”
Elrond hummed in affirmation.
“Her mother was mortal. The only others we found wore the emblem of Mirkwood.”
Nodding, Celebrían continued.
“I am sure they have family back home.”
“You sound disappointed, meleth nin,” Elrond mused. He reached for the little hair atop the child’s head and stroked it, admiring how soft it was, his fondness for children slowly returning.
“I cannot deny my desire for another child, hervenn. I miss when ours were so small. It has simply never been the right time with all that is going on in the world, but surely this child needs a home.”
“I will send word to Thranduil. If anything, perhaps it is best she stay in Imladris.”
“Ah,” Celebrían exclaimed mirthfully. “So you wish to keep her as well?”
Elrond smiled, pulling the silver-haired elleth in for a deep kiss. “I promised she would be looked after, and I intend on keeping my promise, but I cannot deny my want for her-my desire to give her a loving home.”
He took the baby from Celebrían.
“If there is no place for her in Mirkwood, are we in agreement?”
“Of course,” she nodded and kissed his cheek.
“They could not tell me her name, so I think we should at least choose something to call her for now.”
“Actually, meleth, I think she needs a changing first,” Celebrían laughed. “Rest, I will handle our nameless daughter for now.”
“Be sure to not get too attached, melda. We know not of her ties back home,” he warned as he offered the little one back to his wife. She gently rocked her, cooing at the little giggles that escaped the child.
“Oh, I am allowed to pretend, for now, at least.”
Elrond chuckled to himself as Celebrían left to take care of the baby. He lay back on the plush bed, closing his eyes for just a moment, dreaming of names he was fond of.