The Meaning of Snow by Ysilme

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Finding

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3. Finding

Elrohir lay awake through the night, fearing not waking up early enough, but also wanting to think his plan through again. His saddlebags had been transformed into a knapsack with the help of a few straps, and he had added as many emergency rations as Elladan had managed to filch unobserved from one of the pack horses to the healing gear he was already carrying. He also had some tools and an extra blanket, and his and Elladan’s Hithlain ropes - a most welcome gift from their grandmother during their visit.

Once the sky changed to the deeper darkness just before sunrise, Elrohir exchanged a quick hug with his brother, got up, and strolled away as if to relieve himself. When he was sure the night guard paid him no attention, he crept over to the horses where his improvised knapsack lay besides other saddlebags, strapped it on with his rolled-up blanket and cloak on top and made his way off unseen.

Arriving at the top of the ravine, he lost no time in observation, but followed a narrow edge along the western slope until he was well free of the area of the rockslide. It was a bright day, and the slope was steep enough to be mostly free of snow until about halfway down. The climb seemed easy enough and, at the beginning, Elrohir advanced as quickly as he dared without taking any risk, preferring to be out of earshot when Glorfindel realised his absence.

About an hour later Elrohir found a small ledge wide enough to allow for a rest. He turned to look up and saw several people up on the path. One, with telltale golden hair, waved frantically down to him, but thankfully he was too far away already to hear anything. Elrohir waved back. Glorfindel seemed to have resigned himself to Elrohir’s solo attempt, as nobody was following him, and he could now also see the members of the team making their way along the new scarp of the trail.

Surveying the steep rock face below and seeing the wall becoming gradually less steep further onwards, Elrohir decided on a descent diagonally downwards along the ravine rather than attempt the direct climb from his resting place. It was still early in the day, and he could easily afford to give security the preference to speed.

The sun had nearly reached its zenith when Elrohir reached the bottom. The descent had taken him even longer than he had anticipated, getting more difficult when the ground had eventually changed to slippery, snow-covered rubble. Tired from the climb, he unstrapped his pack, took out a small piece of lembas and his waterskin, and sat down on a rock for a quick rest. He looked around, carefully surveying the upper part of the narrow valley.

To his right, the rockslide covered about half the distance towards the end of the ravine below the trail, a mess consisting mostly of rubble and small rocks with the odd larger boulder in between, all partly covers by snow. In front of it, the snow limned everything with a thick coat, hiding anything underneath, including the small brook he could hear murmuring softly just below his position. A handful of larger, snow-covered mounds were scattered over the part with the deepest snow, about the right size of horses, or big boulders. No sign of life was to be seen, no disturbance of the snow, no piece of man-made equipment, not even along the small brook which came to the surface a bit further downstream, meandering in a flat bed of rubble towards the opening of the ravine into the valley below.

Elrohir felt his heart sink. From here, it looked much less likely that somebody could have survived a tumble so far down, carried away with such a mass of rock, mud, and rubble. But then he remembered the report of the escort, remembered that movement had been seen from above, after the rockslide had settled. If they had seen it even in the snow storm, then it must have been somebody alive, not just some debris moved around.

He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. If somebody had survived this, they would not linger about in the snow, but rather have sought shelter, if they were still able to, or tried to stick together or close to the horses to use their body heat as long as it lasted.

The northern hillside consisted of a nearly vertical rock face and was already deep in the shadow of the winter sun. From down here, he could make out a few crevices and overhangs large enough to serve as shelter for a man or more. Elrohir decided to begin his search over there, as it seemed most likely, and strapped his pack back on. Taking a few steps, though, he found that with his pack on he was too heavy to walk easily over the snow, and sank in deeply. So instead he continued along the south slope further down the valley until the snow became thin enough to manage more easily.

When he was halfway across, Elrohir gasped with surprise: hidden from view until now by a snow drift and an overhang, he could see an opening, either a deep recess or a cave, large enough for several people. But not the size of it had caught his eye, but a red blob on the outside, hanging about waist height up on the rock wall. It must be some kind of cloth, fixed in some manner at the rock.

A surge of hope flooded him with new energy and made him faint with hope. There was no way this could have been there by accident. Somebody was there, somebody alive. Hurrying onwards, Elrohir kept close to the rock face for easier footing until he reached the opening.

The red blob was indeed something man-made, a knitted scarf wedged in to a small crack and fixed there with another stone so it would not be blown away. Just barely suppressing a sob, he stepped inside the opening.

After the blinding white snow, the interior of the cave was pitch black, and Elrohir forced himself to wait for his eyes to adapt. He unslung and put down his pack and then stood, listening. At first he could only hear his own breathing, strained from having hurried and being agitated, but as his vision improved and the shape of the cave became slowly visible, his breathing evened out as well, and he could hear something else. Another person breathing, loud and with difficulty, but definitely breathing.

“Erestor?” he called softly. “Is anybody here?”

A rustle and a low moan were the answer, and it took all his self-restraint to stay where he was. He could still not see well enough to move, lest he stumbled over or stepped onto somebody lying on the ground. With dismay he noticed that while his eyes had now mostly adapted, the light was still not sufficient, as the cave lay in the shadow and most of the light was blocked by the overhang. He should have brought a torch, Elrohir reprimanded himself, and then remembered the small oil lamp each healer carried in their kits for emergencies.

Stepping back outside, he opened his pack and took out his healing kit. It contained a specially-made, small cylindrical brass lamp with a folding foot to save space, and a leather flask with oil. He checked the wick, filled the fuel chamber and then got out his tinderbox to strike a flame. It took a few tries as his hands were trembling, but finally he managed to coax a tiny flame from the tinder, enough to light the lamp with the help of a thin wooden stick. When it burned steadily, he put everything back together, took the lamp, and went inside again.

The cave was larger than he had imagined, about the size of a small hall, and higher up than he could see. The floor was smooth, dry rock, and there, towards the back wall, lay a large bundle the size of two people. Nothing moved, but the laboured breath was still audible, as well as another soft moan.

Suddenly afraid of what he might find, Elrohir walked over, his heart beating in his throat, and knelt down besides the makeshift pallet, carefully setting the lamp down at a safe distance.

o-o-o-o-o

At first, all Elrohir could discern were cloaks and blankets spread awkwardly over two people nestled up to each other, with the thick cloth drawn up over their heads to protect them from the cold. Carefully, he folded back the top part, revealing the dirtied, bruised faces of Erestor and an auburn-haired, unfamiliar, elf. Both lay with closed eyes, but Erestor frowned at the absence of the cover.

“Elbereth!” Elrohir breathed, faint with relief, sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar.

The other elf remained motionless. He was very pale, and it was his laboured breathing Elrohir had heard from the entrance, indicating that he might be unconscious.

“Erestor? Can you hear me?”

A faint moan was the answer, and Erestor’s face distorted painfully. He must be injured, but it was difficult to tell with the low light and the blankets. Elrohir laid his hands gently on Erestor’s forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. Like everybody with an aptitude to healing he was able to feel the energy flow in another’s body. But while his training had been completed years ago, he yet lacked the experience to diagnose by the healing touch alone, and needed additional visual and tactile examination. He could tell Erestor's life was not in immediate danger, although he was in great pain; for the moment, this had to suffice. What he could do, though, was give a small amount of healing energy to ease him.

When he sat back, Erestor opened his eyes. His gaze was dull with pain, wandering aimlessly around.

“Elrond?”

“No, it is I, Elrohir.”

“The Valar be thanked,” Erestor murmured. “I was wondering if we would be found.”

Elrohir untied a small hip flask containing Miruvor, unstoppered it and held it to Erestor’s lips. After he had taken a few sips, Elrohir noted with relief that Erestor’s gaze now held his own easily.

“I am alone for now, but a rescue team is on its way,” Elrohir explained. “This valley is not exactly easy to reach. But I carry food and healing supplies. Tell me, how are you faring?”

Erestor shifted a bit. “I am all right. Please, look after him first.” He turned his head slightly towards the unfamiliar elf.

“Of course.” Elrohir got up and went to the other side of the makeshift pallet. It was clear that Erestor was far from all right, but as he was conscious and in no immediate danger, the unconscious elf indeed needed to come first.

“Do you know his name?” Elrohir asked while he examined the head and mouth of the elf before laying his hands on his forehead.

“Annuil, one of the escorts from the Greenwood. He has not woken yet, and I think his ribs are broken.”

Elrohir nodded and concentrated on his touch, giving again a small amount of healing energy after his examination.

“He is not in mortal danger, at least. I need to examine you both properly before I can do more, but first I want to give you a bit water and see if I can make a fire. Do you know what happened to the other guard?”

“The other? No. There was only the two of us.”

Elrohir frowned while he got up and fetched his pack from the entrance. “The captain of your escort reported three horses and their riders being carried down here,” he said.

Erestor bit his lip, but shook his head slightly. “Annuil walked in front of me when the trail broke suddenly away, dragging us down. I do not remember if there was anybody else and what happened later, until I came round again.” His voice, rough from thirst, went out.

“Easy,” Elrohir said, untying the waterskin he carried under his jerkin to prevent it from freezing, “you can tell me everything later. I will go looking for the other guard when I have taken care of you.” He unstoppered the waterskin, helping Erestor to drink by holding his head slightly up. Erestor drank greedily, but when Elrohir released him again he moaned, the movement obviously causing him pain.

Annuil’s lips were as parched as Erestor’s. As he was unconscious and therefore unable to swallow, Elrohir poured a bit of water in a cup, soaked a clean cloth in it and dribbled a few drops of it into his mouth. When nothing adverse happened, he repeated the process several times, to ease at least a bit of the dryness. He would need to repeat this as often as possible, but a gentle pinch to the skin showed that Annuil was at least not yet dehydrated.

Erestor had closed his eyes again and seemed to be dozing. With the most urgent things taken care of, Elrohir decided to investigate further outside and see if he could find the other guard, and perhaps fuel for a fire. He left the lamp burning for Erestor, took a small saw, a few straps and the Hithlain rope out of his pack, and went back outside.

o-o-o-o-o