With Sauron's advance in the West temporarily halted, the Lastborn and his companions travel East over the Misty Mountains to aid the dwarves of Erebor. But more than just orcs and Easterlings await them there. One of Sauron's most powerful servants...
The sun had already set by the time the Company had crossed over the Anduin. The going had been more treacherous than was expected, and they lost two ponies in the swirling rapids. Once they had crossed, everyone was tired, wet, and frustrated. Kalan and Gloin's beards were both heavy with water, and they rang them out the second they reached shore. Even Glorfindel seemed discouraged, and he said little as he stood watch upon a large rock. Gerithor watched as the Lorien elves attempted in vain to dry their arrows, and many of the dwarves fell to their knees in thanks that they had survived the river.
Gerithor himself had crossed first to make sure it was safe, and about halfway through he had slipped on some mossy stones and cut his knee. He had managed to stop the flow of blood, but it still throbbed painfully. He limped carefully over to Glorfindel, who seemed ill at ease.
"What is it?" He asked, gazing out in the direction Glorfindel was looking. Glorfindel sighed and leaned back against the rock.
"Something is not right," He said, glancing around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Dul Guldur is there, to the north." He pointed to the dark treeline on the horizon, but Gerithor could not see the fortress. Glorfindel's elven eyesight allowed him to see much further than the ranger.
"I'll take your word for it," Gerithor replied with a shrug.
"See, that is exactly what I am getting at. There are no lights coming from it. One usually can see it from miles away, but tonight it is dark." Glorfindel narrowed his eyes as he scanned the treeline.
"Perhaps they have all left to the battle," Gerithor suggested.
"Perhaps," Glorfindel echoed, though his voice sounded significantly less convinced. "Either way, I feel uneasy staying so close. We should make haste at first light."
Gerithor nodded in agreement and sat down next to the white-cloaked elf. "What do you plan to do?"
Glorfindel glanced over at the ranger and raised an eyebrow. "What do I plan to do? You mean after the war?"
Gerithor nodded, his eyes cast upward at the stars.
"I imagine I shall see to repairing what the Enemy has damaged," the elven warrior replied with a wan smile. Gerithor noticed that he no longer appeared joyful and bright; Instead, his eyes were circled by shadows and his complexion was almost sickly. "After that... Well, I suppose I shall diminish. After all, I was brought back into this world to fight the forces of Melkor, and without that mission there is no further reason to stay."
Gerithor's heart was sad at the elven lord's words. "But there will be so much to do."
"Indeed there will, but those tasks are for different hands." The two warriors sat for a moment in companionable silence before Glorfindel spoke again. "What do you wish for yourself after the war?"
Gerithor let out a sigh. "Peace and quiet, I suppose... Though I shall do whatever Lord Aragorn commands, should he ascend to the throne. I would also wish for someone to share that peace and quiet with... I've never known what that is like."
Glorfindel smiled, a genuine smile that lit his face up. "A noble wish. That is the beauty of being mortal; Life is fleeting, so every moment counts. Death is not the greatest loss in life... The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we yet live. That is the curse of immortality. Eventually, there is little left that hasn't faded inside. But my life has been full, and I have accomplished much of what I wished. Tell me, is there anyone in particular that you would share that peace and quiet with?"
Gerithor shook his head slowly, but as he did his eyes unintentionally landed upon Gilian, who was setting up her tent nearby. He immediately looked away, surprised at himself for even thinking such a thing. Glorfindel seemed to notice, but said nothing. "I suppose that shall be decided when the war ends... If it ends." Gerithor pulled his cloak closer as a chill wind blew across the field.
Glorfindel's eyes closed as he felt the breeze gently touch his face. "It shall end, mellon nin. One way or another, wars always have an end."
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That's the end of Act 3! Act 4 is the big one, so buckle in, there ain't no brakes on this train! (okay, maybe there are but don't tell anyone).
