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The weather turned sour as Elrond made his way through the woods of Lindon. His clothes were soaking wet not only from the rain but from his recent leap down the waterfall. His tunic was ripped at his right shoulder which also bore an injury that the Half-Elf tried to ignore while running past the trees looking frequently behind his back to see if he was being chased. The pouch with the three rings lay securely against his chest inside his tunic but he knew he had to get out of here as soon as possible, High-King Gil-Galad had already ordered for his arrest and his little stunt had no doubt made his King even angrier but no matter, he could not let the rings fall into his hands when their design lay with Sauron himself.
Lindon was not a safe place to be right now. Elrond’s first thought was to travel to Mithlond to seek shelter and council from Cirdan but the Shipwright’s house was mere a day’s ride away from his King and he was certain that both Galadriel and Gil-Galad would search for him there. It hadn’t been the first time that a little stunt of himself had resorted to him seeking advice from the eldest who still walked amongst them in Middle-Earth. No, he needed to get further away from Gil-Galad than Mithlond this time.
He could visit the one relative he had left who always had his back, Celebrimbor. The famous smith was however located in Eregion, which was quite a distance away from Lindon. It was the perfect distance to escape from an angry King but the road to Ost-in-Edhil would be long and burdensome with the cold harsh breeze of wind and steady downpour of rain that made him feel even colder than when he managed to fish himself out of the river. He also knew that such a journey would be taxing for his already injured shoulder.
The distant shouting of guards, who were no doubt looking for him, convinced him to take the risk and make the journey towards Celebrimbor’s city. He only needed a horse and what better place to take one than the stables close to the spot where he jumped down from the waterfall. It was the last place they would look, he reckoned with a small smile. And so began his perilous journey back up towards the dying tree, ignoring the shooting pains in his shoulder that started to increase in its intensity. Elrond’s guess seemed to be correct, there were virtually none of Gil-Galad’s guards visible the closer he got towards the royal stables. They were probably already halfway on their journey towards Mithlond.
Elrond sneaked inside the abandoned looking stables and quietly coaxed his horse outside. He could not risk the time and the potential noise required to saddle up his mare. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he mounted his horse and placed himself as low as possible, hiding most of his figure behind his mare’s head. He whispered to his horse and she immediately seemed to understand the assignment. As silently as they both could, they left Lindon behind choosing a path Elrond knew to be unguarded because those very same soldiers were now looking for him at Mithlond.
As predicted, the ride was long and absolutely miserable. The rain seemed to pick up in intensity as his steed now ran in full gallop towards Eregion. Elrond was shivering on top of his horse and the fact he was riding without a saddle, made his position even more uncomfortable. Not to mention that with each gallop, the pain in his right shoulder flared up. He gritted his teeth and continued on, bearing the elements the best he could as he had no other choice.
Days passed by as Elrond pushed his horse to her limits carrying him towards Eregion. It was night time but Ost-in-Edhil became within his reach and he was thankful of it until his horse started to stagger. “Come on, just a little further my friend.” Elrond whispered to his mare but she seemed to have had enough being pushed on for days without barely any rest. Elrond knew that his King must have figured out by now that he was making his way towards Celebrimbor’s city now that Mithlond must have been thoroughly searched. There was no time to lose.
His mare however halted and sagged to her knees with a loud neigh as if declaring that she could carry him no further. Reluctantly Elrond got off his horse and looked at her sadly before a sneeze interrupted the moment. The mare got back up her feet and snorted loudly before walking in a soft pace back towards they just came from. Elrond was on his own now and he could not blame his horse from abandoning him now. He shivered heavily as he pulled his cloak tighter around his body. Despite several days had passed since his jump, the rain had been relentless and was still falling down preventing him from drying properly ever since landing in the river.
The cold had seeped deep inside his bones and his shoulder was now soaring with a heavy and sharp pain that he could no longer easily ignore. He felt himself grow weak, days of cold rain without any rest or sustenance were finally catching on him. He dragged his feet forward until exhaustion made him drop onto the forest floor. He sagged against a tree feeling himself grow weaker with each passing minute. At this rate he was incapable of reaching Ost-in-Edhil. Curse his half mannish side that made him fall ill whenever he was exposed to the elements for too long. None of his Elven companions became ill because of the rain or cold but he was prone to catching human illnesses.
As his eyelids slowly closed, feeling nearly incapable of remaining conscious for much longer, a brilliant idea suddenly flew within his mind. He scanned his surroundings and knew these woods all too well. He found himself close to Khazad-Dum, the Dwarven city in which his dear friend Durin resided. With all the remaining strength left in his body, he forced himself back up on his feet and made the slow agonizing walk towards the stone door that coveted the entrance of the Dwarven city deep within the mountain.
His mare had carried him closer to the entrance than he initially thought. The journey took him several hours and by now he was barely coherent when he finally reached the stone door. It was still dark outside when he pounded with his left fist against the door. His right arm hung limply to the side of his body with his shoulder now being so painful that any motion made him tear up instantly.
A small slit in the door opened and a well-armoured Dwarf looked at him with some suspicion in his eyes. “What do you want Elf? Why have you come here so late in the middle of the night?”
“I seek an audience with Prince Durin.” Elrond replied as calmly as he could. The Dwarven guard however looked on with further suspicion at the sorry state of the Half-Elf in front of the city. His clothes looked tattered and the Elf himself was soaking wet and awfully pale looking. The slit closed and for one moment Elrond was afraid that the guards would turn him away but then the door opened with a loud rumble and Elrond was let in.
“Follow me, I will take you to the Prince.” The guard beckoned him over. Elrond gladly followed him further inside the mountain pleased with the knowledge that Gil-Galad could not reach him here and that he was not doomed to die outside in the rain slumped against a tree. With the last remaining strength and dignity left, he reached Durin’s quarters without raising any further suspicions as several Dwarves had looked on in curiousity at the strange nightly visitor walking within their halls at this late hour.
The guard knocked on the door of Durin’s quarters, announced his reason for his presence and soon after the door swung open. There he stood, the familiar looking Dwarf with his reddish hair and beard. “Elrond! By Aulë’s beard what a surprise to see ye here at this time of day.” Before he had any chance to reply, he was pulled inside and led towards the hearth where he gladly took a seat beside the glowing fire that instantly warmed his heart. A mug of ale was pressed into Elrond’s hands as Durin took a seat right next to the Half-Elf.
“Durin, I am very grateful for your hospitality and…”
“What in the blazes happened to ye?” Durin interrupted Elrond after having taken a closer look at him with the light of the hearth now shining on the pale and sunken face of his dear friend. “You look like ye have walked straight out of the sea!”
“I’m doing quite fine Durin, you do not have to worry about me my friend.”
“Ye can’t fool me! I bloody know when my friend is not feeling well. You came here standing like a soaked towel in front of my door in the middle of the night, of course everything is not alright.” Durin almost yelled back at the drenched Half-Elf. His voice however softened considerably when he noticed that Elrond struggled to keep his eyes open.
“I will give ya some clothes and a bed to sleep, we will discuss this in the morning when you have rested a bit.”
“Thank you Durin, your hospitality is much appreciated.” Elrond replied feeling rather glad that he hadn’t need to explain his sorry state any further for the moment. With a nod from Durin, Elrond got up and followed the Dwarven Prince to the guest quarters where he was given dry garments, which surprisingly fit him though he did not ask Durin where he got the clothes from. As soon as his head hit the pillows of the soft but relative small bed, he fell asleep.
Durin stood in the doorway, watching how his Elven friend fell asleep when he was joined by Disa. “He looks rather poor now doesn’t he love?” His wife commented having also seen the rather pale and sickly looking face of Elrond.
Durin frowned and scratched his beard thoughtfully before replying. “I tried to wrestle it out of him but he kept insisting that he is fine, he is a bloody liar if he thinks he is alright.”
Disa rubbed his arm lovingly before turning her attention once more on the sleeping Elf. “I am certain we will manage to coax the truth out from him in the morning with a little tact.” She placed an emphasis on the last word to which Durin grumbled slightly annoyed in reply but Disa just rolled her eyes at her husband’s stubbornness. “Elrond has the spirit of Durin’s offspring, I know how to treat ye men. Come love, let’s give him a good night’s rest at least.”
With one last look, Durin and Disa left the guest quarters and went back to their own bedroom hoping that the coming day would provide more information as to why the Half-Elf showed up looking like a drowned puppy in front of their door.
The following morning arrived way too soon to Elrond’s liking. He opened his eyes after a few hours of restful sleep but quickly discovered that his head felt even heavier and more clogged than the day before. His throat was parched and hurt with each swallow and by now his right shoulder was so painful that he didn’t even attempt to use his right arm. He laid there on the Dwarven bed deep inside Khazad-Dum feeling so poorly that he almost forgot how he got himself into this situation in the first place.
He had no strength left in his body to get up from the bed let alone excuse himself to his friend and continue on his journey towards Celebrimbor. His throbbing head eventually forced him to close his eyes again as he slowly drifted off to sleep once more. He was once more woken up but this time the worried face of Durin loomed closely over him.
“Ya really don’t look well ye lying flagpole.” Durin growled. He wasn’t angry at his friend but he felt slightly disappointed that his friend had lied about his well-being. There had been no reason for Elrond to hide his condition from him. He thought that a night’s rest would have done him any good but the Half-Elf in his guest quarters looked even worse than he did when he arrived, if that was even possible.
“I admit I might have been feeling worse than I initially thought so.” Elrond replied with some difficulty before visibly wincing from the pain in his shoulder when Durin placed a hand on it in sympathy but withdrew it immediately after noticing his friend appeared to be in great pain.
“What happened to ye? Why are you injured and did you show yourself half-dead on my doorstep?”
Elrond grabbed the small pouch with the rings that was still hidden underneath his tunic and showed it to Durin. “These rings….they were forged with the help of Sauron...I couldn’t allow them to fall into my King’s hands but my King desired them so much that he ordered for my arrest. I didn’t see a way out except for jumping down a waterfall and fleeing to Eregion but my horse faltered before I could reach the city. That is how I ended up at your doorstep…” Elrond’s voice trailed off, it clearly took a lot of effort to explain himself.
Durin weighed the pouch in his hands while he pondered over the Elf’s words. “Your King really ordered your arrest over these things?” He could scarcely believe that someone like an Elven ruler would turn against his own Herald over a piece of jewelry.
“Yes my dear friend.” Elrond replied.
“Did he also injure your shoulder?”
Elrond shook his head. “No, I fear that my fall into the river caused that damage but I did not have the luxury of time to seek out a healer. I had to leave Lindon before the guards discovered me. I might have worsened my condition by riding to here in all haste.” He added as an afterthought.
Durin sighed deeply before returning the pouch into the left hand of the now shivering Half-Elf. “I will send a healer for ye, we will patch your arm up again in no time.”
“Thank you Durin, you can not imagine…. how grateful I am for your help.” Elrond stammered in reply finding it hard to string along the correct words as the haze of his growing fever grew.
Durin just waved off his attempts at apologizing for his current state. “Do not worry about it, I will have a word with ya King, make him see some sense about this situation. You just focus on getting better.”
Elrond couldn’t help but smile at Durin’s reply, his first genuine smile ever since the accident with the rings. He could already imagine the furious argument that was bound to break out between Durin and his High-King. The stubbornness of Dwarves was something that Ereinion wasn’t taught to deal with very well.
As promised, Durin sent for one of the Dwarven healers who managed to patch up Elrond’s shoulder with the assurance that it would heal perfectly fine if he held his arm still for at least a few days. The warmth and hospitality from the Dwarves together with some, yet secretive, healing draughts was enough for Elrond to start feeling better again.
Elrond spent the following few days within the company of Durin and his family slowly healing from his tumultuous adventure. Nothing eventful happened so he could finally allow himself to relax properly, giving his body the much needed time and rest to heal again. Elrond spent the days exploring the Dwarven city, getting more familiar with Durin’s children and the other inhabitants, learning a great deal about life within Khazad-Dum until a missive arrived that could not be ignored.
A messenger bearing the armour of Lindon stood at the entrance of Khazad-Dum carrying a message for the Dwarven Prince. Elrond guessed that Gil-Galad had figured out by now that he wasn’t present at Ost-in-Edhil either so the next logical place to search would be the Dwarven mountain. The guards did not allow the messenger entry within the city but they did deliver the message to Prince Durin who read it with amused look on his face.
“A missive from Lindon?” Elrond asked in surprise recognizing the royal crest of Ereinion on the scroll. “What does Gil-Galad desire? I hope he has not threatened to lay siege upon your city.”
“Fortunately that golden cloaked fool hasn’t shown such poor judgement yet. No, he wishes to speak with you together with one called Cirdan on neutral grounds. If you agree, I could ask my father to use one of our council chambers. Ha, that would be a sight, an Elven ruler within our city.”
Elrond nodded in agreement but went thoughtful after hearing his King’s words. The pouch with the rings lay as a heavy burden upon his chest. He had now spent quite some days with the rings close to his heart yet he did not detect a sign of malice. He could however still not trust the trinkets, not after Galadriel confessed that it had been Sauron who came with the idea of their inception. Perhaps he could reason with Cirdan, see if there was a way to test the rings lest he be forever an outcast amongst the Dwarves. He knew Durin would accept him within his fold immediately but life underground was not a healthy thing for an Elf, even not for one who was half human.
And so it was agreed upon that High-King Gil-Galad would meet with Elrond, accompanied by Cirdan and Prince Durin within the halls of Khazad-Dum. By the time that the meeting took place, Elrond no longer had to carry his arm in a sling but still, his King did look upon him with a glint of anger. As expected, Gil-Galad hadn’t been happy since his Herald’s flight and explained how the people of Lindon had already begun preparing for their journey back to Valinor. It was eventually Cirdan who demanded to see the rings and after a while judged them to be free of any stains of evil.
Elrond still did not trust the trinkets, especially not after seeing how quickly even Cirdan seemed to be enamoured by them but he trusted in the words of the eldest amongst them. With the assurance from his King that he wouldn’t be punished any further for his little stunt at the waterfall’s edge, Elrond agreed to return to Lindon. Of course it did help that Durin made a promise to march upon Lindon with an army of Dwarves if he got wind that Elrond had been punished after all. This of course only irritated Gil-Galad further but he gave his word to the Dwarven Prince and silently cursed his Herald for being in such good graces with the Dwarves.
When the time for departure came, Elrond kneeled and hugged Durin fiercely, thanking him over and over for being such a kind host and saving his life without ever asking anything in return. Durin became too emotional for words but Disa pulled him apart and told him to not be so silly, her husband was always willing to help a friend in need. Elrond could only smile as he was pulled in a tight hug by Disa. With one last wave he said his goodbyes as he mounted one of the horses that had been supplied to him by his King and off they went back to Lindon. Elrond promised Durin he would visit again soon, regardless whether the Elves had to leave Middle-Earth behind or not.
Fortunately Cirdan proved to be correct about his judgement on the rings. Together with Galadriel and the High-King, the tree was healed and the Elves no longer had to worry about fading away in Middle-Earth. The King officially forgave the foolishness of his Herald and told him he was lucky to have such a faithful Dwarven friend. The problem however remained that Sauron was on the loose somewhere in Middle-Earth and Galadriel had expressed her worries that he might attempt to return to Celebrimbor. So a small party of Elves had been selected to make the journey to Ost-in-Edhil to warn the smith of Halbrand’s true identity and Elrond was thoroughly surprised to learn that he was placed in command of the mission. Gil-Galad’s official explanation was that Galadriel had been too emotionally involved with Sauron to lead such an important task but Elrond had his suspicions that there was more behind his motivations. He however did not question them because this new journey would lead him once more to his Dwarven friend so that he could make good on his promise to him.