Not Again?!

Chapter 11

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     Lord Elrond stared out over the buildings, walkways, and waterfalls of Imladris.  He stood in silence for a moment, then turned as he sensed someone coming toward him.  It was Glorfindel, his hair pulled back into a long golden braid that grazed his hips.  His expression was grave.  "Lord Elrond?"

     "You want to go after them."

     Glorfindel glanced down at the light armor he wore, then nodded.  "Aye.  I feel that something is going to happen . . . I know that you sense it too."

     Elrond sighed and fully faced his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder.  "Go after them, then, but be careful.  I wish I could go, but . . . "

     "I know."  Glorfindel had apparently been expecting him to agree, since he nodded once and turned, gracefully jogging down off the balcony.  Elrond saw him a few minutes later, walking with Erestor toward the stables.  They looked like they were arguing - typical, and Glorfindel apparently won as usual, waving his left hand dramatically with his right hand propped on his sword.  Erestor shook his head, his black robes gliding on the ground as he tried to tell the Balrog-slayer something, but Glorfindel turned and snapped something at him that caused the adviser to recoil, shaking his head.

     Elrond watched in interest as Erestor fluttered his hand indifferently and turned, going back toward the building.  Glorfindel called something after him, then shrugged, spinning and hurrying into the stables.  He came out a few minutes later with the reins of a white horse, mounted in one smooth motion, then nudged the horse into a canter and they vanished down a pathway into the trees.

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     "I found them!"

     Elrohir pulled his stallion to a halt as he heard his brother's yell from his left.  They had been searching for the orc tracks for about ten minutes so far along the stream, and apparently Elladan had just found them.  "How many?" called Elrohir as he nudged Hinnor toward the place his twin's voice had come from.

     "I don't know," came the reply.  "It looks like they're trying to disguise their tracks.  They failed miserably, of course."  His voice became slightly louder as Hinnor slid between two trees and Elladan came into view, his horse's reins trailing on the ground.  Elladan was dismounted, crouching on the ground and peering closely at the mashed ground.  His stallion was standing patiently behind him.

     "It can't be more than twenty, or Glorfindel would have sent warriors out to dispatch them," Elrohir reasoned, sliding off his horse.  He gave the footprints a cursory glance and wrinkled his nose.  "They passed by here recently.  Even if we couldn't tell from the trail they left, their foul stench still remains."

     "They were walking in a straight line," said Elladan, straightening up.  His dark hair, hanging loose but for a tie that held back some from his face, swung as he turned to face his twin.  "We don't know how many there are."

     Elrohir raised an eyebrow.  "Are you telling me you don't want to go after them?"

     Elladan let out a single derisive snort, snagging his horse's reins and leaping lightly into the saddle.  "Did I say that?"

     Shaking his head, Elrohir jumped into his own saddle and started after his twin, who had already begun moving down the line of broken weeds and trampled ground.  The stream a few yards beside trickled along its bed, gurgling merrily.  They rode in silence for a few moments, then, in accord, both glanced at each other.  As soon as the orcs came into view, they would do what they had always done; send their horses to a safe distance, then attack the filthy creatures until all were gone, rarely speaking during the heat of battle.