Outrun, Outlast by StarSpray

Chapter 4

The war seemed to drag on forever, but it really only lasted a handful of years, before Númenor finally answered Gil-galad's pleas, and Sauron was sent running south with his tail between his legs. During this time Eluréd and Elurín had led raiding parties and acted as spies and scouts, when they were not keeping Hulda and the other children occupied. Once Númenor joined the fight, Elrond and Celeborn grew bolder in their campaigns, engaging the enemy in more skirmishes and even an outright battle or two.

When it was all over Gil-galad came to Imladris, with the triumphant admiral Ciryatur, and Galadriel returned out of Lórinand with her daughter Celebrían. Eluréd and Elurín stayed out of the way while the great ones met and debated, but Eluréd knew it was only a matter of time before Galadriel came looking for them. He had only vague memories of her, but recalled she had been intimidating and keen-eyed when it came to looking into minds and hearts. He and Elurín had long since learned to guard their minds and hearts against such intrusions, aided by the power come to them from Melian, and they had also long since stopped letting anything—or anyone—intimidate them. He doubted whether Galadriel would appreciate their teasing.

"Good afternoon, my lady!" Elurín called out one afternoon, startling Eluréd out of a doze. They were lounging in a tree that stood at the edge of what was in the process of becoming a flourishing herb garden. The chamomile was flourishing, at any rate, scenting the air. A light breeze played among the branches, and teased at Galadriel's skirts and hair as she walked toward them down the path. She wore her hair loose, unlike when she had arrived, and it had been bound back tightly, giving her a rather severe look. Now she was radiant in the sunshine, clad in pale green so that she had the look about her of a buttercup or a daisy—or she would, if Eluréd did not think she might object to such rustic comparisons.

She stopped beneath their tree and peered up at them, eyes glinting in the shade. "My husband told me there are ghosts from lost Doriath dwelling in this valley," she said. "And Elrond said I could find you in a tree somewhere."

Elurín laughed. "Well, here we are! Are the great and Wise done meeting for the day, then?"

Galadriel did not laugh. "You both look too much like Dior Eluchíl not to be his sons. How came you here?"

"We walked, of course," Eluréd said. "Our sister is the one with wings, if you believe the stories." He stretched on his branch, and smiled at a squirrel that had paused in its climbing to peer down at him.

"We told Celeborn and Elrond the tale already," Elurín said.

"I would hear it from you!" Galadriel said. "Or do you intend to remain up there like overgrown children?"

"It isn't a very interesting story," Eluréd said. "And we would rather remain up here. It's comfortable, and Elurín has been making music with the larks." Elurín put his flute to his lips and trilled a few notes. Eluréd recognized the song, and began to sing—it was one of Iarwain's, and was almost entirely nonsense. Galadriel listened for a few minutes before shaking her head and leaving them to it. Perhaps she had hoped less for a chance to speak to them than to peer into their minds; Eluréd did not regret denying her the chance.

They departed the valley, which was now being called Imladris, or Rivendell by the local Men, at the beginning of summer. Hulda was not the only one in the valley from the lands surrounding the Long Lake, and they were eager to return home as soon as they could. There would not be many orcs in the mountains, hopefully, but Eluréd and Elurín knew the best ways to avoid the stone giants and their games, and had offered their services as guides. They, too, were eager to be gone.

It wasn't that Imladris was unpleasant—it was, in fact, the most pleasant place they had ever stayed, with perhaps the exception of the Withywindle river valley. But they had been trapped there unable to leave for so long that now that they could, the itch to travel returned with a vengeance. Lady Celebrían, Galadriel's daughter, told them that Nellas had gone to stay for a while in the Greenwood; they might meet her on their way to Lake-town and Dale, and if they did not they could seek her out on their way back.

"I hope you will return often," Elrond said when they went to say farewell.

"I'm sure we will," Eluréd said.

"Only make sure you leave our names out of your histories," Elurín added, eying the rolls of parchment Elrond had been busy with, and the ink stains on his fingertips. "It would be more trouble than it's worth, if the whole world knew more than one scion of Lúthien walked the earth."

Elrond laughed. "More than one does—you forget Númenor! But I understand. It says already in the Quenta Silmarillion, of the fate of Eluréd and Elurín no tale tells. I won't make a liar of Pengolodh."

"Does it really?" Eluréd laughed. "I like that. It's mysterious."

"We'll bring you back a bottle of wine from Oropher's halls, if he can bear to part with one," Elurín said, turning to head out the door. "Farewell, nephew!"

They left the valley in a flurry of activity, as improvements were made for comfort, now, rather than fortification. The bridge was being rebuilt out of stone instead of wood, and Elves were singing merrily in the trees. The rest of Eriador lay in ruins, but they were traveling east, not west, and for the moment Eluréd did not let it trouble him. It was enough to be walking openly beneath the sun again, with peace returned—however briefly—to the wide world.