All Living Things by

It happened, as do most unlikely events, on an ordinary day, or as ordinary as days could be in Imladris under siege by the forces of the Witch King of Angmar.

“What are you muttering about?” Glorfindel asked sleepily. The sun was barely up, the light sliding in through the open window was still dawn-soft. Somewhere just out of his sight, someone was swearing. It did not mix well with the birdsong.

“Damn boot lace,” Erestor grumbled, coming into view. He sat hard on the end of the bed, making it impossible for Glorfindel to slip back into slumber. “How do they get tangled? Do they have a secret life?”

“Depends,” Glorfindel said with a yawn. “Take a look around for wine spills and leftover edible flowers.”

“Funny.”

Glorfindel propped himself up on an elbow, gaining a view of long black hair and green clad shoulders. “It’s barely morning, where are you off to? Not that there’s many choices.”

Imladris had been under siege for close to a year now, long enough for it to have settled into a way of life for the inhabitants. No one could leave the valley, but that, the general feeling ran, was all right so long as no one could find a way in. Otherwise they had food and water and life went on as best it could.

“I am going down the valley,” Erestor said, finally looking up and shaking hair out of his face, “to find out why every time I ask for some idea of the number of sheep in the east pasture, I get a reply that is clearly, clearly, an attempt to cover something up. I want to see for myself exactly what and why.”

“You like your numbers to add up, yes.”

“Are you suggesting I am a boring bureaucrat?” Erestor gave him a hard stare before starting to wind his hair up and out of the way.

Glorfindel sighed and sat up properly. “Not when you can avoid it. And I have nothing better to do with my time today so I may as well come with you and help count the sheep.”

Erestor hesitated. “We’re not walking again, right? Horses, yes? No getting in touch with the spirit of the valley today. I’m happy for it to grow without telling me about it.”

“Horses,” Glorfindel agreed, amused. “If you’re not in too much of a hurry I could even arrange a lunch to take along. Make an outing of it. The days are starting to run into one another. We need some variety.”

-----o

It was a warm day with a light breeze, perfect for riding. The established path to the little valley that fed Elrond’s household and the village that had grown up around it lay barely within range of all but a lucky shot from a member of the besieging force, but there had been one or two attempts at that before Elrond decided on an alternate route along the opposite cliff face, invisible to the army camped directly above. It took longer and involved crossing back over a temporary bridge that swayed alarmingly, but the air was fresh, the birds sang, and it was a pleasant day for an outing.

The bridge returned them to the other side of the gorge near the small Edain settlement that sheltered amongst ancient trees, a wall of rock rising grey and steep behind it. As they approached, a couple of young Edain slipped out from the woods  and stood in their path, waiting. As they drew near, Glorfindel held back slightly, deferring to Erestor as Elrond’s senior councillor, but the boys knew who handled the valley’s security and addressed themselves to Glorfindel.

“Please, my lord, there’s a – thing – problem.  We wanted to come up to the lord’s house, but our fathers said whatever it was would go as it came, or else one of the elven folk would come past.”

He glanced at Erestor, who shrugged.  “Problem?”

“Strange cries, my lord. And crashing, like…” The shorter of the two, light haired and still beardless, spread his hands to indicate the extent of the noise.

“Like a bear,” suggested his companion eagerly.

“We have a sad lack of bears in the valley,” said Erestor, who liked bears.  “Something smaller perhaps?”

“Where was this?” Glorfindel asked, practically. “And how long ago?”

“It’s been on and off for days, my lord. Not heard an animal like it before.”

“Well, not now, Barth, it’s been quiet the last day.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s gone,” Barth insisted.

“Whereabouts?” Erestor interrupted before the argument could pick up speed.

The boys exchanged an uncertain look. “Um…. Sort of – over there? Over the river.” the one who was not Barth said, gesturing vaguely.

Erestor’s eyebrow twitched, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

“We’re going down the end, to the sheep enclosure or whatever you call it,” Glorfindel said. “We can take a look on the way back if you give us a better idea of where.”

“Over there,” Erestor repeated dryly, pointing towards the trees lining the river.

The boys were dissatisfied but in no position to argue. “We’ll definitely investigate,” Glorfindel said with a steadying hand on his mount’s neck – the big white horse was getting restless. “Just let us get this business with the sheep out of the way first.”

-----o

The sheep milled noisily about while Erestor walked their perimeter and counted. This was his third attempt; the last two were apparently unsuccessful although he had not done it out loud.

“Just call it a small flock of sheep,” said Glorfindel, amused. “It’s as good a tally as any.”

“Yes, but…”

“Some sheep, Erestor. It’s the best you’ll get.”

Erestor sighed and looked to the shepherd and his wife, who both nodded confirmation. The sheep pushed at each other mainly good naturedly, competing for what they felt was the more succulent grass. They were not the peaceful little black and white sheep of the coastal villages. These were big creatures with great curving horns like goats and temperaments to match. If they did not want to stand quiet and be counted, no one was going to make them.

The pasture was tucked away in a far corner of the valley, close against one of the massive mountain slopes that enclosed Imladris, a better barrier against assault than anything they could have created themselves. Around them grassland stretched to the forested areas on the lower slopes, some of which had been terraced for cultivation. Tiny pink and yellow flowers studded the grass. The shepherd’s house was set some distance from the sheepfold – for good reason, Glorfindel thought, wrinkling his nose. The scene was invitingly calm and peaceful save for the two archers seated on a shelf of rock not far from them, keeping watch for possible interlopers.

“All right, I’ll accept a little uncertainty in the numbers,” Erestor conceded with a sigh. “I suppose I have to - the damn things never keep still. And I’ll have the requested feed sent out later in the week. Though they seem to be doing well enough on the grass.”

“If they crop exclusively on grass there’d soon be none left,” the shepherd’s wife said. “This lot are like goats, they’d eat anything. That’s why we supplement with dry feed. They seem to like it too, and happy sheep give happy milk and warmer fleece.”

Glorfindel, who loathed sheep’s milk, thought it best not to comment.

Erestor’s mission accomplished, they found a spot among the trees on the edge of the pasture and ate the lunch Glorfindel had managed to beg from the kitchen. It was quiet in the dappled sunlight save for the occasional bleat, and a good, private place for long kisses and soft words. Later Erestor stretched out and closed his eyes for a while, soaking up the sun like a cat. Glorfindel leaned back and watched the sky, looking for shapes in the billowy white clouds as he had done as a child back across the sea. Middle-earth, he decided, had better clouds.

They had almost reached the Edain settlement before either of them recalled their earlier promise. Glorfindel slowed his horse to a walk. “They said somewhere over there, right?” he asked, gesturing to the forested riverbank beyond the bridge. The facing cliff brooded over them, casting shade even on a bright afternoon.

“It was probably a deer,” Erestor said with a sigh. “That or a family of boar looking for a new home. They make an unconscionable noise about it, or so the complaints say.  Resettling boar is one of the few things I’ve not yet had to deal with.”

“Still, we’d better go take a look.” Glorfindel made no attempt to hide his lack of enthusiasm. A meal and a rest in the sun had left him more interested in getting home and stretching out on the bed, with or without Erestor. Preferably with.

“This job is more trouble than it’s worth sometimes.” Erestor looked around, but the young men were nowhere in sight, in fact the whole settlement was quiet. “I suppose everyone’s out working the fields or something, the terraces along the north side are theirs.”

Glorfindel eyed the skyline above them, studying it for movement but there was none. A carefully aimed arrow might be a problem before they were on the far side of the river, but the angle was difficult, making it unlikely. The crossing point had been chosen carefully to be almost obscured from view. Once across, they would be up against the cliff and impossible to see.

They went over the bridge, ignoring the unsettling sway. “Down there where the trees are thicker?” Erestor suggested. “It’s about level with them and sounds would carry. This stretch of the river’s quite quiet.”

Glorfindel looked for signs of animal tracks, but there was nothing recent. He shrugged, turned his horse downriver – and the animal stopped dead. Just behind him, Erestor’s ride made a dismayed snorting sound and tried to lurch sideways. He heard Erestor swear.  He slitted his eyes against the light, trying to penetrate the flickering shadows amongst the trees. Beside him now, Erestor said quietly, “Over there. Something came this way. Those bushes have been flattened.”

He started to urge his horse forward, but Glorfindel stopped him with a raised hand. “Let’s not rush into this, all right? It’s flattened, yes, but it looks – more like something fell from above.”

“They’re disposing of camp waste into the Bruinen now?” Erestor was outraged. “It’s bad enough Angmar’s forces are up there without them littering our riverbank.”

Glorfindel shook his head, looking around. “Camp waste would still be there.”

“True.”

They fell silent, both trying to listen for sounds. The horses were restless and uncooperative. Finally Erestor said quietly, “There’re no birds.”

“What?” Glorfindel frowned, focused on birdsong, found it missing. “Something’s wrong here.”

“But no noises like the boys said.” Erestor dismounted as he spoke and looped the reins over a low branch. “Stay here, Geb.”

“Wait, where do you think you’re going?” Glorfindel swung hastily down.

“Horses are no good amongst trees and they don’t want to go there anyhow. I’m taking a look. We can’t just leave it and ride off. Something happened here.”

“I’m only lightly armed and it’s just the two of us.” He had barely thought to bring a sword, the valley felt safe even under siege.

Erestor turned to stare at him from the shadow of a massive oak, his eyes a-glitter in the low light. “You’ve fought wargs and orcs and all sorts of humans,” he pointed out. “And a balrog. You’re an army all wrapped up in one package. Come on.”

There was no point in arguing once Erestor got an idea in his head. Grimacing Glorfindel tied his horse up a decent distance from Geb, who was a known trouble maker, and followed.

When they reached the bent and trampled undergrowth, they stopped to frown at it and generally look around. Within moments Glorfindel touched his arm and pointed. “Tracks,” he said very quietly. “As though something has been dragged... And we’ve been talking at the tops of our voices here.”

“We haven’t. We’re right under the cliff. We were talking quietly to avoid becoming a target.”

“As you wish. Come on, this way. Behind me, Erestor, damn it.”

“I hear and obey, my hero.”

“Not funny.”

They passed by the disturbance that had first caught their attention. Glorfindel leant down and whispered, his mouth close to Erestor’s ear, “Those stains there? That’s blood.”

Erestor crouched to have a better look at the tracks then straightened up with a frown. “Not sure we shouldn’t go put together a party and come back,” he muttered. “I don’t like how that looks at all.”

“Something or someone fell down the cliff, and then pulled deeper into cover,” Glorfindel hazarded. “But we’ve not lost anyone, so who or what?”

The sound was small, so quiet it was barely audible above the rush of the river. Like a cough cut short.  Glorfindel’s uncertainty became a palpable thing as he tried to pull Erestor back, but Erestor had more curiosity than caution and went forward on now-soundless feet. Left with no choice, Glorfindel followed.

The trees closed around them, the leaves forming patterns of light and shade with occasional eye-stinging flashes of sun shining off water through gaps at the river’s edge. They had only gone a few paces before Erestor paused to pull a face at Glorfindel and raise a hand to his nose. The odour had been there earlier but not as strongly and as far as he had thought of it at all, Glorfindel had assumed a decaying animal carcass.  It was getting stronger now and there were flies, too. He supposed that was proof they were moving in the right direction.

There was another sound, higher-pitched this time like a kitten’s mewl, and Erestor hesitated a moment and then shifted direction to follow it. The trees abruptly opened into a grass-carpeted clearing. A creature, shorter but bulkier than an elf, lay curled against a tree trunk, breathing hard. A slope led down to the river, too steep for access by a hurt and thirsty….

“An orc!” Glorfindel grabbed Erestor’s arm and tried to drag him behind him. He half-drew his sword while looking around for a second weapon for Erestor – a rock, a decent branch, anything.

Erestor leaned round him, staring. “Wait, it’s hurt…”

Glorfindel had an urge to shake him. “It’s an orc. What part of that did you not understand?”

“It’s hurt!” Erestor tutted impatience and shoved past him, coming to a halt as the wounded creature reared up on an elbow with a harsh, guttural sound. Glorfindel followed him with a curse and only then did he see the arrows protruding from the orc’s shoulder and side, the way it was unable to sit up fully.

Erestor dropped to a crouch, just out of range. “We not hurt,” he said softly to the orc. “Not hurt.”  After a pause he added a phrase in a language that itched Glorfindel’s ears.

His hand fell from his sword hilt. “You know the Black Speech? You have got to be joking. How…?”

“I’m a scholar, it’s my job.” Erestor spoke without turning his head, suggesting he had not lost all sense of place and danger. “Do we have any water left?”

Glorfindel had almost forgotten about the bag he carried slung over one shoulder with the remains of their picnic. “The flask’s empty,” he said automatically without needing to check. As he realised what Erestor wanted it for, he said sharply, “No, I am not going down there to fill it and leave you alone with…”

“I am perfectly safe here, don’t be ridiculous. I could outrun a bear with that number of arrows sticking into it.  Get some water.”

He turned to glare at Glorfindel but another, softer sound made them both look back.  The orc was trying to push something down out of sight behind it but was not fast enough. For a moment Glorfindel was not sure what he had seen or if he believed it, but then Erestor exclaimed, “Oh no,” in the same instant as he said, “Is that a baby?”

The orc was making snarling, angry noises, but at her offspring, not them. Erestor gave him a level look. Glorfindel half shrugged and backed off holding up the flask. “Getting water, yes. You be careful here. Just going right down there…” he added, pointing to the gap between the trees.

Erestor glared. “Stop fussing and get her water. We’ll decide what to do after that.”

Glorfindel’s experience of orcs did not include care and nurturing, but he could not in conscience let any creature lie hurt and thirsty where he could help. He slid halfway down the bank and managed to fill the flask without falling in, which he took as a bonus under the circumstances.  In the background he could hear Erestor’s voice, soft and reassuring. He spoke to horses like that. And small cats. This was neither.

When he returned, Erestor was sitting cross legged in front of the orc saying coaxingly, “Just let me look, all right? I won’t pull them out or anything, just see how bad this is and if we can help.”

Glorfindel handed over the flask without a word. Erestor glanced up at him. “And a cup? Oh all right, I won’t push it. Sorry. Thank you for the water.” He removed the cap and held out the flask. “Water. Can you manage?”

The orc tried and failed to prop herself up fully. Erestor shook his head, took a visible breath and leaned closer. Glorfindel tensed, ready to leap forward. When the flask touched her lips, the orc took a few sips and then slowly, carefully put her hand to it and took it from Erestor. Reaching over, she offered it to the small shape lying beside her.

They waited in the dappled light under the trees as the sound of the river hurrying past was interspersed by little gulping noises. After a while Glorfindel realised he was too fascinated to even be bothered by the smells anymore: blood and urine and what he assumed was vomit.

Erestor finally said in the same calm voice as before, “What happened? Who hurt you? This wasn’t us, was it? Elves?”

“Those aren’t elf arrows, Ery.”

“No elf.”  The voice was gruff, low pitched and not clear but they could understand her. “Coldlands Clan. Want eat…” she used a word Erestor seemed not to know, but then indicated the child huddled beside her.

“The other orc clan wanted to eat her baby,” Erestor said, though Glorfindel was already nodding.

“And she fought them,” he agreed, moving closer. “You fought with them? And they shot you?”

“Kill one. Kill more one. They shoot arrows. Take small one, not leave for eating.” She became more animated, leaning up to describe this, but fell back with a groan when she finished speaking. “Jump river.”

He saw Erestor shiver, felt the same chill. “How long…?”

The orc made a strange sound that he thought might be a laugh. “Burning light come up, go down, come up...”

“Several days, the boys said,” he reminded Erestor. “What about the baby, the small one? What has it eaten?”

The orc shook her head and Erestor translated for her. She reached up, tugged a leaf free. “Green things. Soon Eklach sleep last sleep. Then there be meat.”

Erestor got to his feet. “There will be nothing about last sleeps, Eklach. I am fetching a healer. That baby needs a mother caring for it, not a bunch of elves.”

“No. Other go, yellow hair.” The orc reached out towards him, trying to stop him, and dropped the flask. Erestor sighed, leaned down, picked it up.

“Still water in it. No, he’ll stay here. His name is Glorfindel and if you need more water or someone to help you move, he’s more use than I would be.”

Eklach turned painfully onto her side. “Not hurt.” She lifted the baby with her good arm while she spoke and let it crawl over her despite the pain. It stayed close to her, looking at the strangers with dull eyes as it sat between her and Erestor. After a few moments it, too, lay down. It was small and skinny, probably less than a year old, with pale grey-green skin and very little clothing. She said something in the black speech directly to Erestor.

Erestor listened, then nodded gravely. At Glorfindel’s questioning glance, he replied, “She said she trusts us. We seem to be good elves.”

Glorfindel shrugged, it was all moving too fast for him. He had been ready to make a good argument for them both going rather than leave Erestor alone with an orc, even a badly wounded maternal one. But putting the child she had risked her life for in harm’s way was more than a gesture of trust, it was a promise. “Hard to argue with that. Suppose you’d better go get Elrond. Has it occurred to you that this is all completely insane?”

“Life is completely insane. I’m regularly surprised I’ve survived this long. Of course you’ve done it twice… Just – take care. Maybe get some more water?” he added, holding out the flask.

Glorfindel took it and turned it in his hands. “What in the name of the Void will you tell Elrond anyhow? Come quick, we have a wounded orc we’d like you to look at?”

Erestor gave him the sunny smile that usually meant trouble. “Well yes, exactly that. The truth, you know. He’s a healer. They’re meant to heal indiscriminately. All living things. She’s alive. We’re keeping her that way.”

-----o

“My lord?”

Elrond had spent the best part of the afternoon making up an ointment he chose not to trust to other hands, an old recipe he had been given by a Nandor wisewoman who knew things about healing no mere half-elven Noldo had even thought of. He was tired but satisfied with his work and looking forward to putting his feet up and having a mug of beer. So when Erestor came up to him leading a horse and looking determined, it was only fair that his heart should sink a little.

“Erestor. What can I do for you?”

Erestor hesitated, which was unlike him. He usually went bluntly to the heart of a matter unless diplomacy was a current job requirement. “Do you have a little time to spare? Perhaps – an hour?”

Elrond’s eyebrows rose perceptibly. “An hour? Not a small thing then.”

Erestor bit his lip and looked thoughtful.

“Don’t try the bashful virgin look with me, Erestor. I’ve known you too long. What have you done?”

“Gods, really? That’s offensive to virgins, isn’t it?” Erestor got a tighter hold on the horse’s bridle as two dogs came tearing past barking at nothing. “We need a little help. You might want to bring some basic first aid equipment.”

Elrond was instantly alert. “First aid? Is Glorfindel hurt. What happened?”

“Oh no,” Erestor said with a smile of surpassing innocence, “he’s perfectly all right, or was when I left him. No, it’s the orc.”

“Orc?” Elrond waited, assuming a logical explanation, and received one.

“Orc yes. The one we found. She’s badly hurt and needs a healer – and there is no better healer in all of Middle-earth. I got them to saddle a horse for you. We need to be quick, she’s been lying there for days.”

-----o

Glorfindel sat with his back against a gnarl of tree roots, the orc baby beside him, wrapped in his cloak. The orc lay where she had been earlier, but with her head now slightly raised, resting on the bag that had contained their lunch. He concealed a sigh of relief when Elrond and Erestor entered the clearing. “I heard the horses and told her it was you and the healer,” he said. “I’m not sure she believed me but she’s taking a chance on us.”

“I doubt there were many other options,” Elrond said dryly. Erestor, standing behind him, raised an eyebrow at Glorfindel in a glance that also took in the child.

“We’ve been fine,” he said to the unasked question. “It’s cold in the shade so I wrapped the baby – it’s weak, there’s been no water or proper food for days – and I tried to get her more comfortable, but I’m not a healer. I worried about making it worse?”

He directed the last to Elrond who was sizing up the situation and frowning. “No, no that was quite right, especially as Erestor tells me she fell or jumped off the cliff. Will it be all right for me to examine her?”

Glorfindel gave Elrond his due, he took being a healer seriously.  Which was why he was such a good one. “I’ve tried to explain, but I don’t know how much she understood. We’ll have to play it by ear.”

Erestor cut through the discussion by coming over, dropping down on one knee, and saying clearly, “Eklach, I know you’re in pain and this is very difficult and confusing, but I promised you we would help. This is Elrond, lord of this valley and a great healer. If you’ll let him, he will try and help you.” He added more at the end in the Black Speech, and Glorfindel had the satisfaction of seeing Elrond blink.

“If I might?” Elrond said with a touch of heavy irony, a hand on Erestor’s shoulder. He also knelt beside Eklach, not touching her. “My name is Elrond and I heal the sick and hurt. The fact that you are an orc and I an elf is not important to me. That you are hurt, and that you have a young child to care for – these things matter. Now lie still, be calm, and let me examine your injuries. I will warn you if any of that is about to be unpleasant.”

Something in the calm of his voice or the air of authority that surrounded him seemed to reach her and she relaxed slightly but kept one eye on the baby. Erestor sat down quietly next to Glorfindel so he could get a better look at the blue-wrapped bundle while Elrond began running his hands carefully over obvious and less obvious wounds.

“Multiple puncture wounds. These arrows have to come out, but none of them has penetrated too deeply or struck anything vital. There is a good deal of bruising – I think. Hard to tell with your colouring, Eklach.  Left leg is broken, and shoulder is dislocated… I can fix that, but it will be painful and this might not be a good moment. A great many cuts and abrasions.  I need to work somewhere better lit than this,” he added crossly.

“I wanted to get her better situated, but the light bothers them,” Glorfindel said. “They’re not comfortable in daylight.”

“Forgot, yes.’ Elrond sat on his heels and considered Eklach thoughtfully. She looked back at him, seeming less tense now, but spared the baby a worried glance as it whimpered. Glorfindel started stroking its head with gentle fingers. She studied this for a moment and then seemed to decide it was non-threatening. She tried to move onto her side, but it proved painful and after a few groans she stopped.

“What are we going to do?” Erestor asked finally.

“Well, we’ll need to get her down from here, clearly,” Elrond said. He was off in one of those healer’s assessing states, deciding what needed to be done and how. “And find somewhere to treat her. I’m not sure the infirmary would work right now.”

“I can see that being a bit of an upset,” Glorfindel grinned. “You’d have trainees running for home. No reason to that I can see, but people are like that with the unknown.”

“There’d be a storeroom or something over the way at the Edain community,” Erestor suggested. “Or we can find something on the outskirts of the village below the House. Whichever’s more convenient for you I suppose. Either way, she’ll need to be carried, won’t she?”

“Can’t walk, no,” Elrond said, getting to his feet. “Out of the question. Well it’s no use you trying to talk anyone into this. I’ll have to organise a litter and bearers myself while you find somewhere dry and comfortable.”

“Who, me?” Erestor asked, startled.

“You’re my senior councillor, aren’t you? You claim to know every inch of the valley. Of course you.”

In his no-nonsense healer’s voice, he said to the orc, “And you need to lie still, Eklach. I don’t want you driving those arrows in any further, right? Just a little patience, we’ll soon have you somewhere I can draw them out.”

Glorfindel wondered if the healing sleep that was used on elves who needed arrows removed or bones set worked on orcs. He assumed they would soon find out.

-----o

Erestor followed Elrond after making sure Eklach had enough water and was warm – she seemed confused by the question, which reminded Glorfindel how little they knew of the way orcs lived. Dirty and ugly and dangerous was the general consensus on the matter. Eklach was hardly clean and he had no doubt she could be dangerous, but he wasn’t sure he would call her ugly. A better choice would be different, and Glorfindel had never feared difference.

She was restless when Erestor left, moving around in the hollow she had made for herself and grunting softly with the effort. Eventually she lay still. The baby started to whimper and Glorfindel cautiously picked it up. About six months old, or maybe a bit  more, he thought, considering things like weight and physical control. It could sit unaided and crawl but was very weak from the diet of leaves and lack of water. Each time he touched the child, it closed its eyes as though waiting for a blow. On reflection he kept touching, hoping that familiarity would drive out fear. He hadn’t noticed any injury but had been reluctant to check with Eklach’s dark eyes fixed on him.

She was watching him now. As the whimpers started growing towards full-blown howls, he went over to put the child down beside her and found himself closer than he had intended. Some part of him still expected a hand to come up and grab him, which was ridiculous as even if she had, she was wounded and he was more than able to fend for himself. He was definitely getting used to the odour, that or his nose was refusing to register it.

“Girl baby? Boy baby?” he asked, curious. There was no way of finding out how old. When she looked confused, he pointed to her and then himself, miming the question.

“Like Eklach,” she said, gathering the child closer to her. It settled against her with a tired squeak. “Same.”

“Nothing will hurt her here,” he promised. “Nothing will hurt either of you. No one that comes here in need of help is sent away. You didn’t plan it that way, but it’s how it turned out…”

He stopped, realising he was talking past her skill with the language. She looked up from the child, hesitated. “Fae-people hate orc, always kill orc.”

Glorfindel had a momentary vision of the hordes pouring over the city walls of Gondolin; amongst the wolves and balrogs and mortal followers had been orcs, many orcs, Morgoth’s disposable assault force, easy to replace. “I have killed orcs,” he told her evenly. “They were part of the army that burned my city. It was war. We fought. I – would not kill an orc I saw walking alone through the wild places. I never kill without reason, without something to protect.”

She shifted again painfully, trying not to snag the arrows protruding from her. “What city orcs burn?” she asked. “Was not here?”

He shook his head. “It was a long time ago, before the lands were broken and the sea covered them. Before you were born. It was called Ondolindë – the rock of singing waters.”

“Was a water like this?” She tried to point towards the river but let her hand drop. Her wrist was swollen, he wondered if it was broken. He realised she wanted to be distracted from the pain about which she had not once complained. For a moment he wondered at the suitability of telling an orc girl about the Hidden City that had fallen to, amongst others, her far kin, but prejudice had never sat well with him.

“No,” he said. “No river. Well there were some small ones but nothing like the Bruinen. It was up in the mountains far from here, there were white walls and many fountains and tall, slender towers….”

Elrond returned with a couple of sturdy warriors as stretcher bearers. Eklach was  unhappy at their arrival, but Elrond said he would stay beside her at all times and this seemed to reassure her.  She held the baby protectively against her on the trip across the river, which Glorfindel thought was wise: the fear in the child’s eyes that had slowly been fading had returned magnified at the sight of more strangers.

Erestor had organised a bed, plus a table for the medical supplies and several lamps, but when they arrived Eklach grew agitated again, holding the child close. “Not go in bright cave,” she told Glorfindel through teeth gritted against pain intensified by movement. The warriors had put the stretcher down near the door and stood off at a distance. Incapacitated though she was, neither of them was about to take a chance. 

“You have to,” he told her, keeping his voice firm. “It needs to be bright so Elrond can see to remove the arrows and treat your wounds properly. It has to be done the right way and everything must be kept clean. He needs good light for that.”

“Take arrow out, is just pull,” she said, her face set in deep, stubborn lines.

Erestor listened quietly as they talked. Now he said, “Yes, well, I could have done that myself. I can see two are barbed – you’d lose a lot of flesh and it would get infected and you’d die and then who would look after your baby? Elrond will remove them properly, with skill I don’t have.” He repeated part of this in her own language for emphasis.

“Will pain,” Eklach said, a growl in her voice.

Erestor shrugged and looked less than sympathetic. “Probably. But they’ll make you sleep while he’s working. When you wake up it’ll be done.”

Eklach ran a swollen hand past a couple of the shafts wincing. “Take out, make right?” she asked finally.

“As soon as you’re ready,” Elrond told her, coming out of the shed where he had been laying out his supplies. “Hand the child over to Glorfindel now, it can’t stay with you, not while I’m working.”

Her broad brow furrowed and she closed her eyes. Glorfindel almost expected her to refuse but finally she opened them and shoved the now-squirming child at Erestor. “You watch,” she said. “Must pinch if bites.”

“We don’t really do…” Glorfindel began.

“No we don’t,” Erestor said with a sweet smile. “But it sounds like sensible advice. I will keep it in mind.”

Footsteps on gravel announced Celebrían’s arrival. She was out of breath as though she had been running and looked ready for a hunt, hair pinned up and dressed in a plain blue tunic, trousers and boots. She even wore leather armour over the tunic. It took a moment to realize this was possibly less about hunting and more in case the healing sleep did not fully immobilise Eklach. A hurt and confused orc could be deadly dangerous. None the less, he felt offended on her behalf.

Tucking back loose strands of silvery hair, Celebrían craned her neck slightly to get a look at the baby, then considered Eklach with a frown as though assessing a problem. “Elrond asked me to help with the healing sleep,” she said to no one in particular. “I only found out along the way that the patient was – somewhat unusual. I assume this is why the apprentice healers declined with thanks?” She sounded unnervingly like Galadriel sometimes.

Erestor, who had known her most of her life, looked amused. “I hadn’t realised your mother taught you this too, Bri. I thought she stopped at needlework and smithcraft.”

Celebrían’s answering smile was ironic. Both knew Galadriel loathed needlework. “I learned about the Sleep from my father’s people long before I was married,” she told him, laughter threading her low voice. “I just have very little chance to use what I know. We have to hope it works better than my embroidery skills.”

Eklach understood enough of this to find it unsettling and tried to sit up. Elrond, who had been talking with his assistant, returned and said firmly, “No getting up, please. You should not try and walk. Oh good, they found you, my love.” He beckoned the bearers back and pointed inside. “Hurry up please, this has already been left too long.”

Eklach was carried inside before she had a chance to complain, followed by Elrond, one of his acolytes, and Celebrían. The door closed. Dusk was approaching, the sky darkened as the sun sank beyond the mountain and a soft breeze ruffled grass and trees. The air was mountain-sharp and clean, carrying the final sleepy chirps as birds sorted themselves out for the night and the rush of falling water joining the river, all a part of the valley’s song.

Erestor and Glorfindel looked at one another over the child’s head. “And now?” Erestor asked. “What do we do now?” 

“We wait,” Glorfindel said. “Try it, you might enjoy it.”

“Should I try and organise some oatmeal for this one? Elrond said something about feeding her that, just not a lot because she’s not eaten much lately. What did you two talk about while you were waiting?”

“Gondolin. Ask at one of the houses, yes. They’ll look at you strangely but you’re good with that kind of thing.” Glorfindel had spotted a heap of logs possibly meant for fencing and went to drag two across for them to sit on.

“You told her stories about Gondolin? Really?”

“She was in pain.” Glorfindel tried not to sound defensive.  “I mentioned my city was burned and we went from there. Sometimes the best distraction is a good story.” The child started to whimper and he remembered the next task. “Oatmeal. Yes, I know you have to look after the baby. I’ll go. Just try and keep her quiet, we’ll have the whole settlement out here to see what you’ve done to her otherwise.”

-----o

The baby did not try and bite, instead she cried a lot. Loudly. She also did not want to sleep.

“She’s never been away from her mother before,” Erestor said. He was pacing up and down with the firmly wrapped babe in his arms, making occasional hushing noises. He had found through trial and error that even, steady motion seemed best to comfort her.

“No, no she hasn’t, and I’m not sure why we haven’t found someone with more experience with children to look after her now. Young things need sleep.”

“Maybe young orcs need less?” Erestor did not sound hopeful. “She’ll pass out eventually, children do, all children.  I’m wagering she can’t outlast Arwen, she was a terror.”

Glorfindel, only recently arrived back in Middle-earth, had not experienced Elrond’s children while they were growing up, but had heard enough stories to credit this. “She didn’t like to sleep?”

“Arwen? No, too scared she’d miss something. She always had to know what was going on around her. Celebrían would come and ask me for help sometimes and I would tell her stories.” He paused, his smile sudden mischief. “I used to bore her to sleep with long, detailed descriptions of the road into Ost-in-Edhil or the main reception hall in Gil-galad’s palace. All part of her family history in their way.”

“You probably scarred her for life,” Glorfindel laughed. Coming up behind him, he  slid an arm around Erestor and kissed him on the cheek. “Not sure that’s going to work here though. You wouldn’t like me to go ask…”

“No, I’m not handing her over to someone else. She was given to me to care for – that was like a promise. I keep promises. Here. You take her for a bit. I’m starving.”

-----o

Glorfindel slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the dawn light slanting in the open window and aware there was an unfamiliar pressure on his chest. He had fallen asleep leaning sideways across the bedroom chair, not the most comfortable of positions, and the orc child sat on his chest staring at him with big dark eyes.

“Morning,” he said, reaching a sleepy hand up to touch her cheek. She stilled, watching him cautiously, ready to jump. “It’s all right,” he said, trying to copy Erestor’s soothing tone. “You know me now.”

He heard the front door open, letting in the sounds and smells of an Imladris morning – water, rock, green growing things, woodsmoke – and then fall shut again. “I brought us food,” Erestor said, coming into the bedroom with one of the woven trays they sold at the market to transport food home. He placed it on the table while the child got excited and struggled to go to him, making loud babbling noises. “Bit of a mixture, but we won’t starve and it doesn’t need reheating. And little strips of dried meat as a treat for the girl over there. What do we call her by the way?”

“We can’t name her.” Glorfindel was as close to scandalised as Erestor could still get him. “She has a name. we can’t give her a new one.”

“We’re elves. Don’t we name everything?” Erestor came over and bent to drop a kiss on his cheek then prodded the child, which made a strange chittering sound and batted at his hand. “Is that a laugh, do you think, or is she planning to bite me as her mother warned?”

Glorfindel took in dark hair, slightly flushed cheeks – he had been hurrying, though he would never admit it – and sparkling amber eyes and all was right with his world: he often felt that way when he woke to find Erestor there, not a figment of his imagination. Admittedly he had not slept in a chair since they moved in together. “I don’t think she’ll bite,” he said with a yawn. “I think that was just Eklach trying to give her an added level of protection - my child can fend for herself. Why am I sleeping in the chair?”

Erestor shrugged. “You said you wanted to sit down for a little and rock her. Next thing I knew, you were both snoring. You looked so peaceful I put the spare blanket over you and went to bed. What else was I meant to do?”

For the first time Glorfindel noticed the blanket, a maroon creation with garish green and gold flowers. Erestor, who had consistently good colour sense, refused to say where it came from. “I thought you were looking after her?”

Erestor gave him a surprised look. “Well yes, of course. She was in my bedroom the whole night. Anyhow.” He came over and perched on the arm of the chair, offering rolled pancakes wrapped in a leaf to keep them warm. The baby started bouncing and grabbing out for them. “I don’t know if she can eat them, but I suppose it can’t hurt,” he said while handing one over and watching her try and cram the whole thing into her mouth. “Better have yours before she finishes that and wants more. She has days of leaves and grass to make up for.”

The little orc made chewing noises. Glorfindel shook his head and grinned, reaching for a pancake. She tried to snatch that as well and he pushed her hand away laughing. “Finish what you’re eating first.”

“I went to the cottage,” Erestor said with his mouth full. “Eklach had a peaceful night and is still sleeping. There was a junior healer and two of your captains there. They are really scared she’ll wake confused and run amok, which I very much doubt. Anyhow, she’s been patched up more than adequately and the healer said she should recover well, it just takes time, and they don’t know how fast orcs get over broken bones. They’re not like us.”

“They should be,” Glorfindel said. “After all, we’re from the same stock.”

“There are places it wouldn’t be safe to say that,” Erestor remarked, licking honey off his fingers. “It’s politically contentious to say we’re more closely related than absolutely necessary.”

“People,” Glorfindel returned, “need to grow up.”

-----o

Eklach continued to recover. Two of Elrond’s students volunteered to look after her and came down several times a day to check on her or change dressings. Everyone else stayed well away. The child thrived. She quickly became accustomed to Erestor and Glorfindel and stopped trying to burrow in against whichever one of them was holding her if strangers approached. They took her for short visits to her mother and to begin with she screamed when they had to leave but soon grew used to it. Once Eklach had recovered enough to handle being jumped on, the baby was able to sleep with her again which made everyone happy, especially Erestor and Glorfindel.

“What do you call her?” Glorfindel asked one afternoon when he stopped by to bring the child back from playing in the big meadow just down from the shed. It was more like a cottage by now, looking almost comfortable after the addition of donated items of furniture and a few colourful touches that came from the women in the Edain settlement who were famous through the valley for their weaving.

Eklach, who had removed the new cap the child sported and was inspecting it, looked puzzled. “Her name,” he said to clarify. “We can’t keep calling her the child or the baby. Or – something you’d like us to call her if sharing names is against your custom?”

She shook her head. “She Eklach-girl. She get own name when she bring new girl or boy.”

He frowned, puzzling it over, wishing Erestor were there. “You mean, she only gets a name when she’s had children of her own?”

“Girl make new orc,” she said, nodding hard. “Now she just girl.” She said something in her own language and then, “Eklach-girl.”

“And… the boys? Are the boys named?”

She made a dismissive gesture. “Boys make first kill, get name.”

“And girls don’t fight?” He wondered if he had not yet found the right books or if no one had taken the time to collect information on orcish customs. He suspected some at least would assume there were none, just an endless lust for blood.

The child had been exploring a new bag in the corner that contained bedding, previously used but in good condition, but she crawled back to the bed now and pulled herself up to land hard next to her mother. Eklach flinched and growled at her. “No food up top,” she said, pointing up in a way that indicated the moorlands above the cliff. “Must go out, hunt. Cook. Work hard. Not fight.”

“Not much fighting going on,” Glorfindel said. “The ones hunting and cooking are doing the real work up there.”

She frowned, working through what he had said previously. “Elf girls, small, have name?”

“All elf girls. Boys too. We name them when they’re born, sometimes just one name but sometimes a name from the father and one from the mother. Something pretty or something that says the kind of person they might become.”

Eklach caught hold of the child and turned her to take a good look at her. What she hoped to see Glorfindel could not begin to guess.

-----o

“And then Elrond came in to take a look at the arrow wounds – they had to cut really deep – and I escaped before I was asked questions I couldn’t answer.”

Erestor leaned up on an elbow. It was quite light in the bedroom thanks to the almost full moon, although colours were muted and grey-washed. It was very late. The sounds coming through the open window were of water and soft wind and the clicks of the little sand frogs that had colonised that side of the last homely house. “I know I read the fathers have very little to do with their children.”

Glorfindel reached out and ran a hand down Erestor’s arm, leaving it to rest at his waist. “Girls hunt and cook. Boys fight. And they don’t name them till they’ve done something like killing or adding to the population.”

“Break them down, treat them as things, property. That was Morgoth’s way, Sauron’s way. They wanted to eat her baby. A boy – they’d have taken it to learn to fight.”

“You can’t change the way people do things, Ery.”

Erestor lay down hard, then moved into the circle of his arm. “Can’t change everything but you can change what’s in front of you. There’s going to be a gathering, to discuss Eklach and the baby.”

“A gathering?” Glorfindel began playing with his hair, letting soft darkness flow over and between his fingers.

“We used to do it in the old days but there’s been no call for it in the longest time. The Hall of Fire wasn’t built, we’d do it outdoors around a fire – everyone in the valley who was interested, heads of families all had to be there too.” He had been involved with Imladris almost from its beginnings and knew its history. “And we’d debate a problem and decide what to do about it. Elrond wants to call one now, to see what we should do about them once Eklach’s fully recovered.”

The moon moved behind the mountain and the room grew dark. “When?” Glorfindel asked.

“Next rest day – end of this week. Elrond’s right, he needs to know how the rest of Imladris feels before he offers her a chance to stay here. And that’s how we’ve always done it.”

“I hope no one tells her ahead of the time,” Glorfindel said quietly. “She has enough to worry about without the added uncertainty.”                                                                                  

Erestor touched his cheek, palm resting cool and easy, following the curve of his face. “It’s good not to know everything,” he agreed. “I hadn’t thought you’d be quite this nice about her, you’ve fought so many of her kind…”

“She’s young,” Glorfindel told him. “And she’s doing her best. What’s not to be nice about?”  He wrapped a length of Erestor’s hair around his wrist and drew him in for a kiss.

-----o

A gathering open to all of Imladris would be too big to hold at the Council Circle, certainly too big for the Hall of Fire with its nooks and crannies, its alcoves and half rooms. Instead the meeting took place outdoors once more as had been the way back in the beginning before the Hall had come into its own. A good supply of wood was packed within a stone ring in an open space between the village and Elrond’s house, and as dusk fell they began to gather: from the House, from the village, from the little specialised settlements down in the valley.  Families and friends sat together, the unmarried warriors formed noisy groups. Children ran in and out of the crowd before finally being called to order or taken home by defeated parents.

Elrond arrived as the sky began to darken and took his seat on the low stool set out for him. Erestor as his senior councillor and old friend sat on his left. The third stool, to his right, stayed empty until the noise had slowly settled into low voices and general shuffling and then Celebrían arrived, brushing down the drapes of her pale yellow robe. Glorfindel hid a smile when he caught a glimpse of what could only be forge clothes under the demure outerwear.

The final person to arrive was Eklach herself and her daughter. She was still bandaged and moved slowly – broken bones heal in their own time, Elrond said – but she was neatly dressed in borrowed clothes, as was the child, and had found some red beads to work into her short hair. Celebrían showed her to sit near Elrond, a little to the side of the circle. Their appearance provoked more whispers and movement, but soon this too subsided.

Elrond rose and went to the fire, bending to light it in the conventional way with flint before standing back and allowing those with the gift to strengthen the little flame he had created until it ran hungrily over wood, the light throwing up shadows on the grass and giving its strange cast to faces.

“We are here to decide a matter that has not before occurred in this haven,” Elrond began, raising his voice just sufficiently to be heard clearly around the circle. “As many of you will know, a young orc, fleeing for her life and that of her child, fell from the clifftop into our valley. I am a healer, I do not question the ethnicity of those I heal, but now that she has responded well enough to join us this evening, we need to decide what should happen next.”

From somewhere across the fire, a hand was raised. “With respect, my lord, you cannot mean we should allow an orc to stay here, in our valley.”

A second voice said, “Hurt and in care is one thing, but those things are dangerous my lord, none of us would be safe.”

“Where would it live? What about my children?”

“It’ll not eat your children, Almárien, his lordship would never allow such a thing, but what of the sheep? They eat meat all the time I’d heard.”

Glorfindel was watching Erestor. He had his head slightly tilted and wore an expression of polite interest. In a closed council meeting everyone would know the ice had grown thin. Eklach sat very still. She had lifted the child up from beside her and it was now on her lap, the way it often sat with him or Erestor, bright eyes eager and curious.

“A point, my lord?”

Elrond, who would have been as aware of Erestor’s expression as Glorfindel, nodded briefly. “Yes, Councillor.”

“She, not it. Eklach is not an it.” The words were clipped, final.

“A little courtesy goes a long way, I agree. She. And there will be no eaten sheep, nor children. Next concern?”

“They are not like us, my lord.” A female voice this time. “Like should live with like, this is the valley of the elves.”

“They are not as clean as us either, Lord Elrond. When the water’s been fouled it’s too late to send it back up the mountain.”

Elrond raised his hands and let them drop, the age old signal for quiet. Before he could speak, Celebrian rose. There was a ripple of surprise, she seldom offered public opinions. “I hear concerns expressed based on tales we heard as children or   on experience during war. What I can offer is a smaller thing. It was my task to hold our guest in healing sleep while my husband tended to her wounds. At such times, there is always a sense of the person being held thus, of their true nature, and at no time did I feel anything other than pain and fear and concern for her child.”

Her voice was neither loud nor commanding, but she spoke with her mother’s absolute certainty.

The murmur of conversation started up again, not loud but very generalised. A couple of children tried to go closer to get a look at the baby orc and were pulled back and made to sit by their parents. Glorfindel had listened to any number of group consultations in Gondolin, he knew when the mood on something was generally unfavourable. The firelight made harder work of reading people’s expressions, but he could see how they were looking at Eklach and then away, or past her, the way heads bent close together. And everything about Eklach herself, sitting quietly with the child on her lap, said she knew the tide was turning against her.

He did not intend to speak until he did. “May I say a few words? While Erestor went for help after we found Eklach, I stayed with her, and it is my experience that when someone is in great pain, they show their true face. Even though she was hurt and afraid, even though she had been almost killed by her own kind and was now amongst what she knew as enemies, she never once in any way made me feel unsafe. Instead, she trusted me to help her with her child, we talked…” He did not tell them he had spoken about his lost home; it was a personal matter between him and Eklach.

“She is very young,” he continued earnestly, trying to reach out, make his own conviction carry to others. “A mother for the first time who had to fight for the life of her child when it was threatened with certain death and then for her own life. If we turn her away, where must she go? She is not a warrior, she has done no harm to anyone here. We are better than this.”

Voices rose as he sat down; there were arguments going on which was a good thing, he thought, because it showed not everyone was against her. “This is a decision we need a majority agreement on,” Elrond said, speaking over the noise. “I will not ask you to accept someone in the valley you have serious questions about. On the other hand, as Glorfindel has said, we are talking about a young mother and her child. Think carefully, this is not something to be decided emotionally.”

Glorfindel did not necessarily agree with that. Emotional decisions had their place as long as the emotions concerned were the right kind, not fear or rumour.

On the far side of the fire, he saw movement and then Logar, head of the Edain community rose and waited politely to be heard. He was elderly by their standards, a broad-shouldered man with hair that had gone grey and a full beard to match. When the buzz of voices failed to lessen, Erestor raised his voice and said, “We will hear from Logar of the Low Farm now. Thank you.”

Voices faded, laughter was cut off or quietened. Logar nodded and then looked around. “I see almost everyone here is of the fair folk,” he said, his deep voice carrying well. “When the Dark Lord brought his armies out of the east many generations ago to ravage Eregion, my people fled our villages ahead of destruction and followed Lord Elrond’s forces to this valley, where we were given refuge and safety. And when the war ended, we were offered the right to remain or leave, and my many times great grandsire and his people chose to stay.

“We are outsiders, not like the rest of this valley, but we have always known honest dealings and kindness in this our home. That young orc,” he said, gesturing towards her, “there with her child and no one else to speak for her, cannot go out into the world alone to live or die. We wish to say that if the Lord believes no harm will come of it, that she can stay in our settlement, amongst us. We once knew what it was to be outsiders and hunted.”

There was absolute silence when he finished speaking. The fire leapt and crackled, a soft wind made the trees and grass whisper. Glorfindel wondered what the forces holding them trapped within the valley thought the fire represented, it was too dark for them to make out anything else. Elrond sat with head bowed, thinking. Erestor had a faint smile on his lips. Celebrian had gone over to Eklach and was wrapping her own shawl around the baby.  Finally Elrond looked up.

“This is agreed amongst your whole community, Logar, not just your own thought on the matter?”

“We have discussed it, my lord, yes. There is one of her and a good deal more of us so safety is not a concern. We have food and to spare and honest work when her health allows. We can try it and see how she and we get along.”

Elrond turned. “Eklach?”

Erestor left his place and went to crouch beside her, speaking quickly with expansive hand gestures. Glorfindel was in the right place to see when she understood she had been offered a safe place, not sent out of the valley as soon as she was well enough to travel. The dawn of hope and then relief in her face was one of the most beautiful things he had seen in a very long time.

-----o

Eklach now lived at the end of a short row of homes built mainly for single men and women near the communal kitchen the Edain shared, which suited her as she had been persuaded to try her hand at bread baking and was up before dawn to get her share of the day’s supply into the oven. She left the baby at home sleeping: she told Erestor one of the neighbours would always come and tell her if she cried, but the child seldom woke before sunrise.

Glorfindel had not been in the cottage thus far, despite her having been in Imladris for several months. They met in the fields or near the well or wherever she and the child happened to be if he came past in the early morning or near sunset – as was the nature of her kind, she avoided full sunlight. This time, however, there was a reason for the visit beyond courtesy or a sense of responsibility.

She answered their knock and then stood there looking uncertainly from one to the other. Behind her there was a thud, a muffled shriek, and then padding footsteps.

“You fall again?” she asked, looking down. The child came to a halt next to her, holding on to the edge of her tunic and grinning widely at them. “She fall all the time now she starts to walk.”

“She’s grown again,” Erestor said. “They always fall over when they begin walking, all the time – elf children, Edain, orcs…. It’s how they learn balance.”

“If you’re not busy, Eklach?” Glorfindel asked. “We had some news we thought you might find interesting. Nothing wrong, nothing bad,” he added. “Just – a curiosity.”

The front room was small and scantily furnished: a table with plain wooden stools, two slightly worn armchairs, a sideboard with plain plate on the shelf, a lamp and some strategically placed candles, but there were brightly covered cushions, a knotted rug on the floor and sunshine-yellow curtains. The home of someone with very little and that all donated, but with a liking for bright, warm things.

The child made it to one of the chairs and pulled herself up onto it looking proud of herself. Eklach strode across and swept her off. “Chairs for visitor,” she told her firmly. “Cushion for babies.” She dropped one of the cushions on the floor as she spoke, and the child fell on it with a gleeful yelp.

She gestured awkwardly to the armchairs and then got one of the stools from the table for herself, waiting for them to sit before she was seated. The child pulled herself up and walked bow-legged to Glorfindel and hung onto his knee. He reached down to pick her up and set her on his lap. “Everything all right, Eklach? You have all you need?”

She nodded quickly. “There is food and warm beds and good work and no one shouts.”

Erestor had gone to some trouble to make sure she would be properly supported, he knew, though Erestor himself had said very little about it. “I’m glad of that, especially that the work is good.”

“Eklach bakes excellent bread, I’ve been given some to taste,” Erestor said. “And she knows we didn’t come here to talk about her baking.”

“You go ahead, it’s your news,” Glorfindel told him, amused. “You had to bring it yourself.”

Erestor gave an almost embarrassed toss of the head. “Eklach, have you thought about what will happen when the little one grows bigger, with no one else like her here? And you, with no one of your own kind?”

True fear touched her face for the first time in months. “My kind try kill baby, kill me,” she said, the words falling over each other in her haste though she kept to the common tongue, not falling back into her own language as she would have before. “See me, elf clothes, elf smell. Kill.”

Erestor quickly interrupted the flow of words. “No, no, no one’s sending you away. Lord Elrond would never allow that, you stay here under his protection. And right now no one can leave here anyhow – your former masters are still camped up on the moorlands, looking for a way into the valley.”

“They not come!” It could have been a statement, it could have been a prayer.

“No, they won’t come,” Glorfindel said. “We make sure of that.”

“That’s his job,” Erestor said, gesturing towards him with a look that was almost a caress. “No, we’re safe enough down here. But when this is all over, I learned something today. Not all elves live in our havens, some wander the land. One such told me about a place far from here, somewhere in the south, where orcs have started their own safe place – orcs like you who have left the service of the Witch King and even, they say, Sauron himself . It’s a place to live freely, where there are no slaves, no fighters, just people trying to make a place of their own.”

“When we lift the siege,” Glorfindel continued, speaking slowly, “and any time after that, even years after that, if you would like to go and look at that place, we will find someone to guide you there.”

“Eklach must leave?” she asked, looking confused.

Erestor laughed softly, going over to crouch down in front of her and take her hands. “No. Eklach must decide if she and the baby want to leave and find their own kind or want to stay here. No one tells you what to do. You decide what you want.”

“You can think about it,” Glorfindel said. “Just remember, it’s your decision. We’re happy for you to stay for however long you like, for life if you will. But we’re also happy to help you find a home with others like you. Just let us know – tomorrow or next year or time beyond that.” He had no idea how long orcs lived, he would ask Erestor later.

“Other orc,” she said in a low voice. “Orc that do not fight and beat?”

“Just – think about it,” Erestor said, getting up. “You have all the time in the world.” He scooped the child off Glorfindel’s lap and gave her a hug before setting her down on her feet and watching her toddle over to her mother.

“I make name for her,” Eklach said abruptly.

“And about time too,” Erestor told her.

“Hush, you,” Glorfindel muttered at him, unable to prevent a smile.

“Well she’s been wandering around for a year unnamed. What did you choose, Eklach?”

Eklach picked up her daughter and smiled down at her, her broad, plain face lighting with pride. “I make best name - sweet taste, colour like sun on wall. I name her Honey. Because our life now is – very sweet."

Chapter End Notes

Beta: Red Lasbelin

Artist whose prompt this was written for: Lindonwald on Tumblr/Misseuph on Ao3

Link to artwork - and please go past their blog and give some love to the rest of their stunning art!