Some Futile Hope by Luxa

Part Two: Chapter Five

Elrond and Glorfindel manage to keep their cheer up in public, while Elrond is secretly plagued by doubts.

Second Age, August 2nd, 1697. 4:54 P.M.

"The orcs are trying to get in again."

Elrond ran his hand over his face in annoyance. "Do they not know they are inconveniencing us? We are right in the middle of building new latrines."

"Maybe we could fill up the old ones with their bodies," suggested Glorfindel. "Two birds with one stone."

Elrond considered it.

"No," he decided. "They would make the smell worse, if possible."

"I see your point," said Glorfindel.

Enough of flippancy now, Elrond thought. Even though the orcs were making their thirtieth or so attempt to make or find a passage into Imladris, Elrond knew he should not take it lightly. He ordered a group of archers off to the cliffs to pick the orcs down, and doubled the security around the entrance.

Elrond was currently overseeing the building of, not the latrines, but the hall they were putting up. The few buildings they had were hastily constructed, and while the ones they were building now were only a small improvement, Elrond wanted to build enough of them so that when winter came, he would be able to get soldiers and refugees alike indoors and warm.

When Elrond was done at the hall, he went to see how the archers were doing. They had taken nearly all the attacking orcs down, with only two injuries and no fatalities, much to Elrond's relief. Staring at the high cliffs, an idea sparked in his mind. He thought about it, wondering if he was mad or if this could really work. It could be very stupid, Elrond thought suddenly. What if it was very stupid?

He decided to tell Glorfindel and ask what he thought; if it was stupid, Glorfindel would tell him and, best of all, not judge him for it.

When Elrond approached Glorfindel, he started the conversation with, "This could be very stupid."

"A lot of things could be very stupid," replied Glorfindel. "Like this conversation, for instance."

"Looking at it that way, every conversation could be very stupid."

"But you see, my dear Elrond," said Glorfindel, wagging his finger. "I do look at it that way."

Elrond laughed, but quickly sobered up as he thought about the amount of work he had to attend to before the day was over.

"I was thinking of widening the main entrance to Imladris,"" said Elrond. "Making it look and sounds as thought all were normal, maybe with a noisy distraction somewhere else, but secretly removing all by the first few layers of dirt so that, when we need it, we can take it down at short notice and get a battalion through there without too much trouble."

"A battalion, huh?" said Glorfindel, golden eyebrow raised. "Sounds like a big effort. Do you really think we'll be down here that long?"

"Yes," said Elrond confidently. "This valley's food supply can't hold out forever, not with so many thousands surviving off it. We're already beginning to struggle."

"I hadn't noticed," said Glorfindel, worried. "Is it really?"

"Not much, but we're catching less game now, and that is an ill omen. If we had access to the hunting grounds beyond the Valley, I'm sure we would be fine, but as it is..."

"It's worth the risk," said Glorfindel. "I would rather not be trapped down here to starve. Would you like me to muster some soldiers to begin?"

"Yes, I would," said Elrond. "Try to pick soldiers who aren't involved in too many building projects already, I don't want to wear anyone out. Oh, and get warriors with a reputation for stealth. We need to be as quiet about this as possible. I want to keep this a secret from the orcs."

"Glad you're not too picky then."

"I hope it's enough," said Elrond absentmindedly. "I do not want to fail these people, not again."

Second Age, October 5th, 1697. 7:12 A.M.

Ignoring his empty stomach, Elrond took a walk in the woods behind his tent, one of the last left after their continued buildings. He could have eaten if he'd wanted to, but the thought of his soldiers and the hard work they did to deserve their food put him off. He did not want to be wasteful, not with the game so rapidly thinning out and rations being cut.

He stopped at a stream, glad there were so many waterfalls; they would never run out of fresh water, at least. He sat on its bank and peered into it, wondering if there were any fish sizable enough to eat.

He found his reflection instead. It took a moment for Elrond to recognize himself; he had not seen a mirror since the road to Eregion, where his broke. His hair, instead of straightened and braided like back in Lindon, was wavy and tangled, the few warrior braids he kept nearly lost in its mass. His skin was tanned dark by the outdoors and his lips were cracked. His eyes, the same gray they had been all his life, seemed wilder.

Is this what heading an army did to Elrond? Was he so incompetent that he could not even lead without looking like a wild-man? He wondered what Ereinion would say, the one who had told him that beauty didn't matter all those years ago. Elrond had not believed him at first, sure it was just another trick to win Elrond's heart, but after months, years, of Ereinion's devotion, of his soft caresses and loving company, Elrond had given it of his own accord.

What would he say if he saw Elrond now? If Elrond was feeling untruthful, if he were prone to long pouts of self-pity, he would guess that Ereinion would be shocked by his appearance, the loss of his perfect hair and skin and kissable lips, the ones Ereinion had, despite his claim that he didn't love Elrond for his face, lauded. He would say that Ereinion would be repulsed, that he tell him to clean up his act before they could be together again.

But no, Elrond knew, he wouldn't do that. That wasn't his Ereinion. Ereinion would see him and his face would split into that big grin of his, and he would kiss Elrond hard enough to make Elrond want to melt in his arms. And then he would tell Elrond that beauty didn't matter, or more likely, that he hadn't changed a bit.

Elrond began to cry. Ereinion was so far away, and he might never see him again.