Erestor left the site of the trial, taking off the borrowed black robe as he walked. At his campfire he handed the folded garment to a fellow warrior and readied himself for a mission of great secrecy. Stealth was needed, that and swiftness.

Nevertheless the elf was too cautious to completely forgo safety-measures: although he let his mithril chain mail-armor untouched for reasons of silence, he strapped on his leather armor and wrist guards. He girded his sword and the two long knifes were soon stuck in the harness on his back. Erestor gathered his hair into one thick, long braid that hung down his back and darkened his face's pale skin with soot from a campfire. He called his steed and with one fluent move swung himself onto the bare back. Erestor never rode with saddle or bridle. The Valinorean Noldo's connection to all things alive was strong enough to allow him some kind of a silent communication.

Without a word the elf disappeared in the dark of the night. Only the camp's captain knew what was his task.

~~~

The next morning was covered in a dense fog that swallowed all sound. Groups of elven warriors huddled around campfires, preparing a sparse breakfast. Although their victory of the Dagor Aglareb had been complete, they still besieged Angband, being constantly tried by excursions of orcs.

Out of the eerie quiet of the dense fog the thundering of hooves was suddenly above them. "Away!" the rider yelled at the top of his lungs, "out of my way!" as he drove his bleeding and groaning charger across the camp in a straight line, heading directly for the Captain's tent and ignoring all obstacles in his way. Arrows stuck in his armor, pierced the flesh of his leg and his horse.

The poor beast eventually stumbled and crashed, sending the rider flying through the air. As the horse laid groaning and panting on the ground, bloody foam seeping from its mouth and nostrils, covered in its own blood from countless wounds, the dark elf wasted not a single look and instead caught his fall gracefully and dashed away on foot. Nobody dared stopping the grim looking elf and he reached the Captain's tent within moments.

~~~

The cool water of the small, clear creek felt good on his skin. Erestor had peeled off his armor and clothes, had pulled out the arrow that had hit his unprotected thigh and stood now naked in the water, rinsing his body with the clear liquid. His red blood mingled with the dark orcish essence that had covered him as well, running down in small rivulets before it was all washed away with the waters of the creek.

The black-blue of his long thick mane stood out starkly against his alabaster skin, the dust of a happy trail that led from navel to groin very prominent, attracting gazes, especially from the fairer Sindarin folk that was not used to such sight. Truly black hair such as Erestor's was rare, even among his Noldorin kin.

He coughed painfully and spit out a mouthful of red foam - a dulled orc-blade had hit him hard across the ribcage, had almost sent him off horseback and now he sported a large bruise above the pained area. It must have pierced his lungs. He watched, lost in thought. //once again I give to this land my blood. and more than ever do I find it worth it.// there had been times, upon his arrival in Middle-Earth, that all he had sought was revenge.

Revenge for the betrayal of Morgoth that had brought so much sorrow and pain upon the Noldor, revenge for the death of his family on the Helcaraxe. It had taken many months if not years before Erestor had started to notice the beauty of Middle-Earth, before he had lost his heart to these lands. He had been a peasant in Valinor and the love for the land and all things living ran deep within him. Since then he fought with more fervor, more determination for he was no longer driven by destructive hate but a deep love for this land.

"Are y' alright?" a voice like midnight-blue velvet broke his reminiscence and he turned around to face the elf who had spoken. Hair like ripe wheat and rich honey, kept from an even, masculine face with simple warrior-braids.

"Aye, I will be...ah ...Daerdion." he remembered the name he'd learned during last night's trial. "Did somebody take care of my horse?"

"Aye. killed. there's naught we'd do but that."

"Pardon? I'm sorry, but..." Erestor frowned, his Noldorin accent thick in his voice. He had leaned Sindarin but it was still a foreign tongue to him and his vocabulary consisted mainly of military terms. Since he usually was a very quiet person who stuck to other Noldor, Sindarin was still not coming fluently off his lips and Daerdion spoke it fast and seemed to swallow more syllables than finally made it off his lips and for Erestor it was difficult to follow the quick flow of words, the heavy accent, although the lilt was attractive. Erestor's thoughts and dreams were Quenya and he usually spoke rather reluctantly while putting his ideas into Sindarin first.

"Ah'm sorry. I said: we killed the poor beast. 'Twas naught we could do for it."

Erestor nodded. It had been a good horse, willing to give all for its master. What a shame! Without the horse he wouldn't have gotten away with what he'd done. "Are you healing alright?" Erestor asked with genuine concern in his voice. Usually he did not meet those he'd tried again but since the young one was present and inquiring about his own well-being he thought he could show his concern as well. He did not know why the Sinda had come here at all. Nevertheless did Erestor hope the interest in each other was mutual, hoping he could have a fling with the young elf. //'Twould be good to let off some steam. I'm too tense, too high-strung and he's beautiful.//

"Brought ya s'me tea." the young elf offered a pewter mug full of steaming herbal tea, the refreshing scent of verbena and lemon grass wafting off in all direction.

Erestor stepped closer and bowed slightly. "Thank you." he drank and sighed when the heat spread from his stomach through his body. He handed back the mug and half-heartedly dried himself off with a small rag. "I do not wish the horse to be eaten." he said firmly, making his words sound more like an order than a wish. Meat was rare in the camps and hunger an ever-present companion for most elves were involved in fighting - not too many had the time and opportunity for farming and the lands were stripped off game from years of battling.

"Ah'm 'fraid it's too late." Daerdion said with some regret. Erestor balled his hands into tight fists, swallowed his hot anger - he couldn't change this any more, so why waste energy?

"Where've you been, if Ah may ask?" the Sinda spoke deliberately more pronounced and clearer. Daerdion had been curious ever since the horse had crashed more or less into his campfire.

"Stealing." a smug smile appeared on Erestor's face. "I stole a map of Angband."

"Ya kiddin'!"

Erestor frowned again. He cursed himself for not being able to make some intelligent smalltalk with this attractive elf. Daerdion's hair reminded him of ripe wheat and rich honey, the elf's eyes reminded him of a Valinorean morning-sky; already nice and warm with the blazing heat of midday lurking at the horizon. Erestor wondered if Daerdion did have such a blazing heat hidden inside himself.

"You are making a jest." Daerdion repeated, mercifully settling for high-Sindarin instead of the dialect of his home.

"Nay. I did it!" Erestor laughed, the elder elf gathered the torn clothes he had washed in the creek.
"How?" the young Sinda's curiosity was piqued. Such heroic deed and nobody even knew about it! Erestor himself did not seem to think it being anything special.

"I shall tell you. Come, meldir." Erestor was high on adrenaline still so after he'd put on his loincloth he walked Daerdion to his place at a campfire he shared with some other elves, all Noldor.

*Mea arin.* Erestor greeted those present curtly, throwing his wet clothes on a rope that carried already various leggings and tunics.

*Arin, Erestor. You need clothes?*

The black-haired Noldo refused politely. *I can wait and I could hold my water.* he pointed at the cloth to proof he had not been afraid. The others laughed while Erestor wrapped himself up in his blanket, offering Daerdion a seat on the log. He gathered his thoughts and told of how he had gotten behind enemy-lines, snuck into a captain's tent and run like the wind back to his horse. All alone.... Again and again he had to ask for words, feeling frustrated with his inability to tell the story properly or at least fluently. Then he fell silent, softly leaning against Daerdion's shoulder, snoring, eyes glazed over with reverie.

Somebody laughed and said something. Realizing the Sinda spoke no Quenya, the Noldo added: "you must forgive him: He's been up for four days. He must like you a lot - usually he doesn't speak of his doings." the group of Noldor left, someone had told them there was a place where a horse was being roasted. Daerdion politely refused. Instead he gently lowered Erestor to the ground.

His attempts not to wake the elder elf were in vain - someone who'd lived for 75 years in constant alertness could not be secretly moved about. Erestor tensed, took in his surroundings and relaxed. Blinking sleepily Erestor muttered "I had imagined being bedded by you would feel completely different, Daer."

Dozing off right after that, Erestor left behind a baffled Sinda who promised himself to get back to that invitation later.

~~~

Erestor slept like a dead the whole day long, only rising for a moment to relief himself before dusk.

He had no idea what time it was when hell broke loose upon them. The night was pitch-black, the fog had not lifted, covering the mass of orcs that had come to ambush the camp.

Erestor was fully awake in a matter of seconds. He cursed loudly for he was still more or less naked. forgoing any clothes but a short-sleeved tunic, Erestor put on his complete armor and boots. Sword drawn he dashed toward the raging battle, throwing himself into the melee.

The first orc he met had its back toward him and Erestor ran his sword right through the filthy creature, then used his foot against the orc's back as leverage to pull his blade out again. Whirling around with the momentum of his pull, he let his sword slam into another vile creature, cutting flesh and stopping only when the blade met the spine. He had to duck from another weapon aimed at him and the half-dead orc dealt out a final blow, numbing his left hand before the orc fell and wedged loose from the blade.

Wielding the sword with only his right hand Erestor parried two more blows before he could start another attack at his opponent. He was blocked and kicked into his stomach, being sent stumbling backwards several steps, when he collided with something. Turning for a moment he realized it was an orc's back. Seeing his original opponent charging again, sword high above its head, Erestor ducked and flinched to the side, turning around in a full circle and using again his own momentum to slash up the orc that had run its blade into its mate.

With a scream Erestor decapitated one and then the other. Blood covered him. His left arm came to life again, sending out rays of pain. Erestor tuned it out as good as he could and armed his left hand with one of his long knives. The arm was not fully functional but still useful.

Out of nowhere something slashed his left calf: another half-dead orc laid on the ground, still causing damage with the bit of life that was left. Erestor snarled and stabbed it with his sword.

The battle waged on and Erestor realized they would probably not make it this time: the numbers of the orcs seemed huge and their own forces were quickly diminished.

A blade came down, aiming at his neck and he saw it far too late to do anything when in the last moment another sword blocked the deadly blow! Daerdion grinned grimly and Erestor used the orc's surprise to ram his knife into the creature's black heart with a yell. Without words the two elves stood back to back, hoping for dawn to come - Morgoth's creatures weakened in the newborn sunlight.

When hope was almost lost, backup arrived on horseback! The High-King's guard had been on its way to another camp. They were fresh, heavily armed and crashed onto the orcs like a tidal wave, bringing death and destruction over the foes.

Daerdion and Erestor stood leaning against each other, watching, catching breath. When victory was theirs, the two killed whoever orc still twitched. Once the gruesome slaughter was over, they stumbled back to the destroyed camp. Erestor found his bundle trampled but unopened. He held it up high like a prize: it held thread and needles.

"River." one word was all that was spoken. Rows of naked elves stood at the river, washing themselves while those in better shape cared for their comrades who could not walk any more. Screams and the thick scent of blood filled the air. With the adrenaline ebbing, Erestor was reminded of his left shoulder.

"My collarbone's broken." Daerdion nodded and helped Erestor to get rid of his armor and tunic. When they had cleaned each other the two warriors started to stitch up those wounds that were too large to be left untended. Finally that was done and they dropped to the ground where they had sat.

"We live." Daerdion laughed.

"Aye, we won. We will see Arien rise again." Erestor laughed

TBC...

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