Another day, another new form of torture. These orcs were good at thinking up new ways of boring someone to death, thought Glorfindel. Since his capture eight nights ago, he had found that more than the hatred he felt, more than the stupidity on his own part for walking into the trap, more than anything else, he was bored beyond belief. He made a joke about it with one of the other elves who was in the same position that he was- cuffed at the wrists and ankles and dragging an enormous round weight that prevented any of the prisoners from swimming over the moat that surrounded this castle they were being held in. The elf he tried to cheer up, if only a little, cast him a downhearted, empty look, and continued about his task.

The tasks were dreadful, and always the same thing the entire day - an impossible task for the dozen or so elves who had not been so fortunate as to have been killed on sight. It was rumored that an elf who was captured did not stay so for long. Either he died from the cruelty of the orcs, or he himself became one. But then, Glorfindel had always questioned, if none of them escaped who was telling the tales?

Today was the worst- snow had fallen overnight, and even as it fell it became grey as the land here. Before the sun was even up, all of the elves had been roused, handed wooden shovels that would be of no use as weapons, and were told to ‘dig them out’.

It was now, on the eighth day, that Glorfindel was more determined than ever to free himself, and the others who had been captured and enslaved. Had he not killed that balrog for less offense?

For the first time, they were outdoors the entire day, though not entirely unguarded. Every hour, two new orcs were posted at the door to keep watch over them. Glorfindel found himself doing the brunt of the work, for the others were simply too fatigued, too starved and lacking the will to work quite so hard. Glorfindel had found early in this day’s task that those whose hands did not bleed from working fast enough bled by the whip for working too slow. He tried to encourage them with his words, but few had any desire to listen.

There were two who paced themselves, who seemed to have caught on to the game of working hard when they were being watched and slowly down when the orcs turned away to concentrate on something else. Glorfindel learned their names early, for he had asked all of them, but only these two had replied.

“Haldir, this is our best chance,” whispered Glorfindel as he paused in his work, rubbing his hands together, trying to regain some feeling in them. His gloves were soaked, though many did not have even a pair of wet gloves to protect their hands. Glorfindel received a nod from the dingy-haired blond. Of anyone else there, Haldir was the only other one who looked as if he might be able to fight one of the orcs. And then, there was Erestor. “What happened to your hand?” asked Glorfindel in alarm.”

“Those icicles up on the tower,” he said, looked up. Glorfindel’s eyes followed in the same direction. “The guards were using them as target practice, and I was in the way.”

Quickly, Glorfindel made sure that they were not being watched at the moment, and then he tore off a strip of fabric from around his long tunic. Erestor opened his mouth to protest, but before he was able to Glorfindel had wrapped the fabric around his injured hand. He removed his left glove, wrung it out, and easily fit it over Erestor’s. “That will do for now.”

“Thank you.” The icy cold had at least kept the flow of blood to a minimum, and Glorfindel’s bandaging helped even more. “I may even manage not to lose the hand now,” said Erestor in a somewhat cheerful voice. Although the young ellon was not trained as a warrior and did not have the bulk or skill of one, he had something many of the others held captive did not possess: charisma and optimism. Even on the fifth day when, after spending the entire day carrying firewood in that the orcs chopped, after pulling splinters from his hands with his teeth, and after being told that no one was to be fed that night, Erestor replied by telling Glorfindel, “This reminds me of a song my mother used to sing.” He sang forty verses; some that Glorfindel was sure had been made up on the spot, before curling up in the straw to sleep.

“The doors work to our advantage,” Glorfindel reminded his companions once they were far enough away from the guards. “The wooden bar, kept in place, buys us time while they ram it from within, but we will also pile snow in front of it to further slow them down. We need to do it now; the one on the right has the keys to the chains. Haldir, remember, just get them to keep their attention on you and then I will take care of them once you do that. Erestor, you... try to rally everyone else.”

“No offense, but that will take a miracle.” Erestor’s eyes darted up to the tower again, no doubt watching for anyone to appear above. “I know that the original plan called for Haldir to be the distraction, but I think I could be a much better choice.”

“Oh?”

Before Erestor needed to explain this to Glorfindel, Haldir nodded. “He is right. If he causes the distraction, then both of us can take care of the guards.”

Glorfindel gave a nod, and then took a long step away from the other two, as he noted the guards were intently watching the trio. “Then do it now; I think we have already alerted them of something.”

“Excuse me, sirs, I-“

“Get back to work!” Maurguth cracked his whip in the air, which set several elves to work just a slight bit faster.

Erestor flinched accordingly. “Sirs, it is about my hand. I cannot work right now- see?” Unbinding the fabric from his palm, Erestor showed his injury to them. “I need time to heal, or else it will become infected. Look there; it seems it already has.”

“Well, we can take care of that, right, Grimbau?”

“Of course we can,” sneered the orc, grabbing hold of Erestor’s wrist.

“That hurts!” shouted Erestor, making a commotion as he tried to pull away.

“Oh, it will,” promised Grimbau as he pulled a long knife from his belt.

“Now!”

Before either orc knew what was happening, Haldir and Glorfindel both smashed their shovels across the orcs’ faces. Grimbau reflexively let go of Erestor’s arm, and the little elf dodged away from the swipe of his knife.

Haldir punched Maurguth hard in the face, but his throat was grabbed hold of by the orc. “You will pay for that, boy!” growled Maurguth, tightening his grip.

While Haldir kicked and clawed, Glorfindel had problems of his own. He had not expected that a blade would be drawn, and with no weapon of his own he found himself on the defense. “I had planned to skin you alive when you were first caught. Now I think I will, despite the master’s plans for you.”

There seemed to be nothing that Glorfindel could do, unarmed and unprepared. As he tripped backwards over the cursed ball and chain around his feet and fell down in the snow, with Grimbau before him, he could not help but close his eyes and think that his plan may have been a little flawed, and that Namo would not be entirely happy to see him return again so soon.

As Grimbau drew back his knife with a grin, he made a sudden gagging noise. Erestor had slipped behind him and taken the wrapping off of his hand. This he was using to choke the guard. Glorfindel used the unexpected precious moments he was given to grab the blade from the orc and turned it against him, spilling his innards upon the ground.

As Grimbau went limp against Erestor, Glorfindel turned his attention to the other orc, who was fumbling for his weapon while Haldir fought on. With three elves upon one orc, it was only a short time before Maurguth’s body joined Grimbau’s on the ground. The door was hastily secured by Glorfindel and Erestor while Haldir caught his breath and then sought out the keys to free them.

Glorfindel turned to the others, some of whom had dropped their shovels, all of whom had stopped working. “We are free! Come, we have the keys, and we can swim now to safety!”

Some still stood in shock, while a few either grabbed their chains up from the ground and ran to the moat. “Wait, you need to take those off first!” shouted Glorfindel as Haldir set to unlocking the manacles. “You will drown otherwise!” As soon as Glorfindel was freed, he began to run among the others, who were now following like sheep to the moat. “What are you doing? You will sink!”

“Good,” said one that he passed by. “I want this torture to end.”

“But... wait, there is a way! You can be saved!” Glorfindel helplessly watched as the other prisoners began to leap into the deep water, disappearing under and leaving only some bubbles and ripples behind. “This is madness!”

“Glorfindel, we have a problem!”

The blond ran back to the tower, his energy renewed now that he was not wearing the heavy chains. “What is wrong?”

“The keys worked for you and I, but Erestor’s are rusted and I do not think this is even the correct key for them.” Haldir looked up to Glorfindel for a solution while Erestor tried vainly to slide his hands out of the cuffs. His wrists were starting to look raw, and as Glorfindel pondered, a spear pierced the snow inches from them.

“We will have to figure it out later. For now, grab the weight, I will carry him.”

Haldir nodded and picked up the heavy sphere as Glorfindel took Erestor into his arms, concerned that even with the chains, he was frighteningly light. They ran to the moat as arrows flew from the tower. Nearly all of the ex-prisoners had either drowned or were about to jump. Glorfindel warned them one last time that it was not a decision they had to make, but as the doors of the tower suddenly burst open, the majority decided to leap into the abyss.

“How well do you swim, Haldir?” asked Glorfindel.

“Well enough.”

“Then I want you to go in first, and if I cannot manage to bring Erestor and myself back to the surface after a few moments, dive in after us.”

“Understood.”

Glorfindel luckily had no difficulty pulling Erestor back up once they were in the water, but he was thankful that Haldir was able to grab the weight and hold it under one arm as they swam across. “I am going to slow the two of you down,” panted Erestor once they made it to the other side. “Let me hide here in the trees; hopefully they will not find me and-“

“We go together, or not at all,” spoke Haldir sternly. “That is my way, the way of the Galadhrim. We will not leave you.”

Glorfindel nodded. “We are one side, and they are on the other. By the time they get a bridge assembled or find boats, we will be long gone.”

- - -

“Some journey that must have been,” concluded Elrond, for the time was late, but the children in the Hall of Fire refused to sleep until they heard how the trio of strangers had come to be at their home. “Perhaps tomorrow you can recount the rest of your tale.”

Parents ushered their children off to bed while Elrond came over to check Erestor’s injuries. “Your wrists will be fine in a few days. You must keep a close eye on your hand, though. The infection should clear, but if it gets worse, see me immediately.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, bowing his head in reverence.

Elrond nodded and sat down in an empty chair that faced them. “Haldir, I assume you shall return to your lands once you have rested, but I am afraid that there is no Lindon for you to go to, Erestor. Nor is there a Gondolin anymore, Glorfindel. You are welcome, of course, to stay here, if you like.”

And that was how Lord Glorfindel and Counselor Erestor came to live in Rivendell, and why they seldom leave the safety of the valley. The end.