The World Ahead by StarSpray

---

Chapter 2

---

They wandered a bit farther south than originally intended, and came to the point where the two rivers between them and the mountains converged. "Do these rivers even have names, yet?" Eluréd wondered as they watched the waters mingle together. Snow melt meant both of them were swollen and muddier than they would be later in the year; he watched a startlingly large piece of tree float by, brown leaves still clinging wetly to one of the branches.

"Of course they have names," Elurín said. "Probably a dozen each, at least. I suppose it depends on how many wandering tribes pass through here very often." He paused. "But those hunters we met didn't mention any." He peered downstream, southward, with a thoughtful look on his face. "We could follow this river all the way down to the Sea," he said.

"We'll have time for that later," Eluréd said. "Let's find a place to cross and then head back upstream."

"Along which fork?"

"The easternmost one, of course. We're going to the mountains, Elurín."

Elurín rolled his eyes. "If I'd known there was a singular purpose to this journey, I might have just stayed with Goldberry," he said. "Are we going to spend the rest of our lives chasing your dreams? It was probably only the result of something hitting your head…"

"You can return to the Withywindle if you like," Eluréd said.

"What, and leave you by yourself? You'd get yourself eaten within a week."

For that, Eluréd pushed him into the water. Elurín came up sputtering and cursing. He lunged, but only succeeded in falling back into the water when Eluréd leaped out of the way. "Forget getting eaten, I'm going to drown you, you son of a—"

"Careful," Eluréd called as he jumped up on some rocks. "Insulting my parentage insults yours!" He sat down cross-legged as Elurín dragged himself out of the water, looking like a half-drowned rat. He squeezed water out of his braids, and sat on the grass to pull off his sodden boots, grumbling all the while. Eluréd laughed at him a little more, but there was only so much grumbling he could stand, so after a few minutes he let his attention wander—while still staying alert for any retaliation on Elurín's part.

That was how he noticed the trio standing across the river, watching them. They were Elves, and hunters, judging by their dress, and the great bows they carried. Eluréd started to wave, but Elurín chose that moment to try to drag him off the boulders into the water, and he ended up falling down the other side. As he picked himself up, shaking leaves out of his hair, he heard bright laughter from across the water. Elurín muttered a few choice curses. When Eluréd peered around the boulders, he found his brother now covered in mud and leaves, twice as dirty as he would have been had he not been soaking wet.

"You'll pay for that," Elurín informed him.

"We'll camp here," Eluréd said. "I'll go find firewood. You get out of those clothes." He left Elurín spluttering about the people on the opposite bank, as though he couldn't just duck behind the rocks or a tree, and wandered back into the forest to find firewood. There was no shortage of deadwood, and he carried back three armfuls before Elurín finished changing and set about actually building the fire. "Do you have your fishing line?" Eluréd asked.

"In my pack somewhere," Elurín replied. "Don't you have yours?"

"I think Nellas borrowed it and forgot to give it back." Eluréd dug the line out of Elurín's pack and found a hook. If he was lucky, they'd have fish for dinner.

As he cast the line into the river, he scanned the opposite bank for the trio of hungers he'd seen earlier. He found them in a few minutes, as one of them shot an arrow into a tree on his side. There was a rope tied to it, and in moments they had a bridge ready for crossing. Nellas had done that before, across the Withywindle, but Eluréd had never seen it attempted across such a wide expanse. But it was no trouble for the hunters—they ran smoothly across it, and made their way up the shore to where Eluréd stood tugging on his fishing line.

"Well met, friends," he said carefully. The Silvan tongue was not terribly divorced from Sindarin, but some of the Avarin dialects were more tricky.

"Well met," said the woman cheerfully. She tossed a silver braid over her shoulder. "I am Fernith, and this is my brother Cullas, and our cousin Esgarion. We saw you come up from the West, and thought you might have news to share."

"We might," Eluréd said, "though you might have already heard it."

"Some of the stories are so fantastic, we don't know what do believe," said Esgarion.

A fish caught on the line, and with a swift jerk Eluréd pulled it out of the river. "You are welcome to join my brother and me," he said. "I am Eluréd, and my brother is Elurín—though he isn't perhaps, the best company at the moment."

"Why did you push him into the river?" Fernith asked. She picked up a rock to club the fish as Eluréd caught them; her brother and cousin headed over to the campfire, where Elurín was getting out a cooking pan and some of the herbs they'd collected.

"Because he deserved it," Eluréd replied. "Where do you hail from?"

"Oh, we came up over the mountains from the Silverlode valley," Fernith said. "There's a pass there that goes over Khazad-dûm."

"Oh, so we heard," Eluréd said.

"Is that where you're headed? We only came this way looking for news. It would be no hardship to guide you."

Eluréd shook his head, and jerked another silver fish out of the water. It flopped onto the stones at their feet until Fernith struck it expertly with her stone. "This is farther south than we intended to go," he said. "We were making for the pass farther north."

"Ah, the one leading toward the Greenwood. Well, if it's the Greenwood you're looking for, you can get there easily enough over the Dimrill Stair. The High Pass can be dangerous."

"We wanted to see this side of the mountains before crossing over," Eluréd said. "What news were you looking for? We've just come from the Ered Luin."

Fernith's eyes lit up. "Really? Then is it true that all the lands beyond were broken when the Powers came? I can't help but think that tale has grown in the telling—most tales do, by the time they come to us, they've passed through so many mouths."

"Well, that one hasn't," Eluréd said. "Perhaps because there's no room for it to grow. But it's true, Beleriand is no more, except a small part of Ossiriand. Most Elves who didn't sail West after the War have settled there, under Gil-galad's rule."

"And who is Gil-galad? Is he one of the Exiles?"

"The son of one of them. Hey, Elurín!"

Elurín glanced up from the fire. "What?"

"Is Gil-galad the son of Orodreth or…Fingolfin?"

"I thought his father was Fingon?"

"Oh. Really?"

"I don't know. Does it matter? Either way he's a Noldo, and no concern of ours."

That was true enough, though that might change in the future, considering their nephew was Gil-galad's herald, but Eluréd thought it would be best to spare their new friends that particular web of complications. They wanted to know next about Gil-Estel, whether it was one of the Maker's gems put in the sky by the Starkindler, or a ship, or something else entirely, and whether the Valar had indeed put it there. Yes, the Valar had put it there, and it was both a gem and a ship, but more than that Elurín flat out refused to say. "It's a long and bloody tale," he said when Cullas pressed him, "and not one I will tell."

"Why not?" Fernith asked. "If it's only a jewel—"

Both Eluréd and Elurín laughed at that. Eluréd felt bitter about very few things—but the Silmaril was definitely one of them. They were old enough to remember that awful night in Doriath—the blood and the fire, the ruined tapestries that had been woven by Melian's own hands, their mother falling with a choked off cry as she tried to shield them. The soldiers who had taken them out into the forest and left them to freeze and starve, once it was clear they would not or could not tell them where to find the Silmaril. It was all very well to toss it into the sky and call it Gil-Estel, but that did not erase the blood that stained it, in their eyes.

The hunters raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances. "All right, we'll find someone else to tell that tale," Esgarion said.

"What about you?" Cullas asked as Elurín flipped the fish over in the frying pan. "You said you came from the Ered Luin. Did you live West of them before?"

"No," Elurín said before Eluréd could reply.

"Oh." Cullas looked disappointed, but only for a moment, because Elurín announced the fish were done, and there was little talk after that, as they all ate with relish. By then it was getting late, and Elurín left them to clean his muddy clothes more thoroughly, while the hunters told Eluréd more about their journeys. There were orcs in the mountains, they said—there had always been orcs in the mountains—but they were scared, now, and more disorganized than ever since the great earthshaking, and many had fled even farther east, or into the north.

"You have to worry more about the stone giants that sometimes show themselves," Esgarion said. "They like to throw stones—I don't know if it's a game for them, but it happens most often during storms."

"I wouldn't want to cross mountains during a storm anyway," Eluréd said.

"They can come up quite suddenly suddenly," Fernith said.

"Eluréd!" Elurín came running back to the campfire. "I think that vampire thing is still following us."

"I told you you should have killed it straight off," Eluréd said. He grabbed his bow, as the hunters scrambled for their own weapons. "Where is it?"

"I don't know. I saw movement in the trees, but I don't think it will try anything until dark."

"It will be dark very soon," Cullas said. "…You've really been traveling with a monster tailing you?"

"Well, we haven't actually seen it since the first night," Eluréd said.

"Why didn't you kill it then?" Cullas asked. Esgarion looked dumbfounded; Fernith looked more like she was trying not to laugh.

"Because our camp was invaded by trolls."

"Ai, Starkindler," Fernith finally laughed out loud. "Next you'll tell us a horde of orcs has been following you, too!"

"No, but we might have woken a dragon the other day."

There was a pause while the hunters stared at Eluréd. He kept a straight face, but Elurín's snort gave the joke away after less than a minute. Fernith dissolved into giggles, but Esgarion frowned. "That's not funny."

Just then the vampire descended on them with an ear-splitting screech, dropping from directly overhead. Fernith screamed, and Eluréd once again came close to burning his face off as he dove out of the way. Bowstrings sang, but the arrows flew off into the darkness, missing the vampire entirely. Eluréd yanked out his knife and rolled onto his back just in time for the vampire to leap on top of him, teeth flashing, hot saliva dripping onto his face. His knife went flying.

Then those teeth sank deep into his shoulder. Eluréd kicked at the vampire, but his arms were pinned, and there wasn't anything he could do while she tore at his flesh, hissing with delight at the taste of his blood.

"Eluréd!" Elurín slammed into the vampire from the side, tearing her off Eluréd, and taking a chunk of his flesh with them. The vampire hissed and cursed at them. Eluréd rolled the other way, trying not to scream. Someone grabbed his good arm and pressed something soft against his shoulder.

"Hold still!" It was one of the hunters.

"Elurín—"

"He's fine, but you won't be if you don't stop squirming!"

After a few minutes the chaos died down, and Elurín returned to Eluréd's side, cursing. "It's gone," he said. "Eluréd—"

"Next time it's your turn," Eluréd said through gritted teeth. Esgarion helped him sit up so Elurín could peel back the shirt someone had pressed against his shoulder. It was Elurín's shirt—the one he'd been wearing when he fell into the river. Blood flowed freely from the deep wound in his shoulder—but even he could tell it was only a flesh wound—there would be no permanent damage, though he'd probably bear an impressive scar the rest of his days.

Elurín snorted as he poured water over the bite wound. "Then how would people tell us apart?" he retorted. "Hold still, Eluréd. Cullas, can you stoke the fire? I need the light. Fernith, there's a kit in my pack—thank you." Elurín pulled out a needle and thread, and chanted the healing songs Nellas and Goldberry had taught them as children, to stem the flow of blood and encourage the flesh to knit back together, pain to ease, and strength to return. It was probably working—it had always worked before—but it wasn't working fast enough for Eluréd's liking.

But finally his shoulder was sewn together, Elurín's hands never wavering even though his voice caught more than once, and bandaged soundly by Cullas, while Elurín washed his hands. "I can't believe you let it get away again," Eluréd said finally. "Why didn't you just shoot the damned thing?"

"It was too fast," Elurín shot back. "And I was slightly distracted by you bleeding all over our things—"

"I wouldn't have been bleeding all over our things if you had killed the stupid vampire in the first—"

"How did you two ever reach adulthood?" Cullas asked after a few more minutes of bickering, when Eluréd had to stop to catch his breath.

"Nellas," they chorused.

"Nellas deserves songs sung about her," Esgarion muttered. Elurín snorted.

"We tried once," Eluréd said as he tried to get comfortable on the ground; it was going to be a long night. "She's still not done laughing at us."

The vampire did not return that night, and after a few days of rest for Eluréd, they parted ways with the hunters, who headed back south and east to the pass that would take them to their home. "Good luck," Fernith said before running back across the rope bridge. "I hope you survive long enough to visit us in Lórinand!"

"I hope so, too," Elurín said. "May the stars light your path!"

"And yours!"

"They're probably glad to be rid of us," Eluréd remarked after the hunters vanished from sight. "Keep your bow handy, won't you? I can't do anything with this shoulder."

"As long as it doesn't get infected—which it won't, because I cleaned it myself—it should heal swiftly," Elurín said. Then, "Do you think we could set a trap for the vampire?"

"I don't know." Eluréd rubbed at his shoulder. "But I am not going to be bait."

In the end they didn't try setting any traps, and the vampire did not make an appearance. It had slunk off into the mountains, perhaps, into some dark tunnel where things of that sort dwelled. Eluréd and Elurín made their way leisurely upriver, staying close to the water for the most part, as the mountains loomed up on their left, so much taller than any mountains they'd ever seen. They caught only brief glimpses of the far-off peaks; more often than not they were wreathed in pale mists and clouds that spilled down often even into the foothills. Hence, of course, the Misty Mountains. They seemed much closer than they really were, though the river course turned eastward the farther north they went.

"When Nellas asks about this," Elurín said one afternoon as he checked Eluréd's shoulder, "we're going to tell her it was a single incident, and that Daedheleth most certainly did not follow us almost the whole way from the Withywindle to the Hithaeglir."

"Of course."

"And we won't mention the trolls at all."

"We already agreed on that."

"Well, as long as we both remember." Elurín carefully wound the bandages back around. "It's healing well. Tonight I'll sing over it again."

They continued leisurely even after Eluréd's shoulder healed enough that he could move it again, even though he could not yet wield his bow or do more with his knife than skin and gut the game Elurín caught. They were peaceful days, and filled with new discoveries and interesting things to see, though they met no other travelers, and nothing more dangerous than a mother bear passing by with her cubs. Occasionally familiar birds found them, bringing news from the Withywindle valley—Nellas had returned from Lindon, one nightingale told them, to dwell a while with Goldberry by her lily pool. And the cities by the shore were coming along, reported another, and it would not be long before the Elven folk started venturing eastward in earnest.

Eventually they came to a place that felt familiar to Eluréd. "We should turn up this way," he said, gesturing toward the hills. Elurín looked at them, then at Eluréd, raising his eyebrows. "What? I want to see what's up in those hills."

"Presumably your dream valley," Elurín said, but followed Elurín as they left the river and wound their way up the hills. The way was steep, and trackless, so often Elurín had to help steady Eluréd. "I don't suppose you dreamed why finding this place is so important."

"It might not be important at all," Eluréd said cheerfully. "But it's beautiful—you'll see, it'll be worth it."

"I hope so."

The valley came up on them suddenly, when they came to a steep drop that Elurín nearly fell over, before Eluréd grabbed him. Far below them, the valley opened up. Flowing water echoed over the hills, hundreds of falls tumbling over cliffs and slopes to join together in a small river flowing through the tree-filled valley. The smell of flowers was in the air, and the sharp scent of pine. Nightingales were singing merrily.

"Oh," Elurín murmured. "Is this the valley you saw in your dream, Eluréd?"

"Yes." Eluréd sat down, dangling his legs over the cliff. Evening was setting in, and the smell of pine floating up from the valley made him feel pleasantly drowsy. "We need to find a way down, I think," he said.

"Yes," Elurín agreed immediately. "It's going to be important someday." He sat down beside Eluréd. "It would be nice to know how, though," he added thoughtfully. "And when."

"Foresight doesn't really work like that," Eluréd said.

Elurín rolled his eyes. "I know that. But it would be nice."

"Mm." Eluréd swung his legs a little. Below them the river was flowing, and above them the stars were burning, and the mountains standing as tall sentinels. The moon would be rising, soon. After a little while Elurín raised his voice in song, a hymn to Elbereth that had once been sung in Doriath, in the days before the sun and moon. As he did, Gil-Estel rose, glinting. What did the world look like from up there, Eluréd wondered? How small even the Misty Mountains must seem. He did not envy Eärendil his sky-sailing—he liked his mountains towering and his forests vast.

In the morning they would find a way down into the valley; perhaps they would spend the rest of the summer there, and the winter, and return to with Withywindle valley when spring came again. Or perhaps they would venture even farther east, to the Greenwood and to Lórinand. There was a mighty river east of the mountains, supposedly. Perhaps they would follow it down to the sea. Eluréd grinned. The whole world lay before their feet, and in this new Age of the world there was nothing to stop them from exploring every nook and cranny.