The Accounts of The Scouts of Rivendell
As told by Will Reuss and Tim Bellmar
Chapter One – Of Askings and Tellings
In Imladris, Rivendell in the tongue of Men, the Last Homely House, there dwelt Elrond Half-elven and all of his house, and others. Among these were three of young ages, yet older than many men of Númenor were, as they were of elven ancestry. The first born of these was Jedgron Peredhil Cúthalion, Jedgron Half-elven Strongbow in Westron speech, as he belonged to the house of Elrond. His father, Elrohir, rode often with the Dúnedain of Arnor with his twin brother Elladan, and thus won renown for both he and his son. Jedgron, in his appearance, was like the first Half-elf, Dior, the heir of Thingol. He was tall and dark-haired, and his blue-grey eyes shone with the wisdom and might of the Elves of Beleriand, yet he had seen few perils. He was trained in the ways of the woodland scout, using the bow and the knife. He was trained in the art of fighting with a weapon in each hand before he was taught the skills of a ranger, so he was adept with most weapons. He was taught to read animal and other tracks, and learned the art of stealth. His mother, Malluinloth, dwelt with her kin in the halls of Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood, as she was a Silvan Elf, his sister.
The second of the three was born to the captain of the guard of Imladris, Glorfindel, who slew a Balrog in the fall of Gondolin, the mightiest elven kingdom in Beleriand. His first son was called Faihran Lauredhel, Faihran Golden-elf in Westron, and was trained in the same arts as Jedgron. They were raised to be the same, as they were born days apart. These two, Strongbow and Golden-elf, grew with a fast and strong friendship, often never straying far from one another in the days of their childhood. Faihran was as his father, mighty with brilliant yellow hair and keen blue eyes, yet he was more nimble than his father, as he was a scout rather than a fierce warrior. He was trained more with the knife than the bow, but made up for his lack with exceptional dagger skill.
The third spoken of was also a son of mighty Glorfindel, being named Letholes Lauredhel. Born eighty-and five years after his brother, he was did not remember all his brother did, but his bond with Jedgron was as strong as the one Jedgron shared with his brother. He was in all ways similar to his elder brother Faihran, but lacked some of the experience of Faihran and Jedgron as he grew.
It was often these three’s task to mind the borders of fair Imladris as they grew, and even when they were full adults in elven-years, it was their duty whenever they were in Imladris to go and patrol the valley on their magnificent stallions or on foot. It was of such a time that the three were summoned by Elrond to carry out a vital task to Middle-earth.
The three were at a Ford in the river Bruinen, the mighty river that flows south from the Misty Mountains. The river cut through the Ettenmoors southwest from the Misty Mountains, at one point dropping into a deep ravine. It was in this deep gorge that a small forest grew, and Elrond came to settle it at the beginning of the Third Age. It became the Last Homely House, Imladris, Rivendell in the tongue of Men, and by the magic of Elrond it was hidden to all those who wished evil to it. They were riding back to fair Imladris from a scout of the moors to the east of the Bruinen when they heard a horse approach from the west. They had their horses in a ring of trees and went back, not knowing if it was friend or foe. Letholes and Faihran drew their long knives, and Jedgron his bow. He bent it and fitted an arrow to the string. He whistled the song of a nightingale, the call used by the patrollers of Imladris. Soon after, a sharp whistle of a sparrow was heard.
Knowing this was the proper reply, Jedgron stepped out of the bushes. Two white-clad elves emerged from the bushes on the western bank, calling to him and his company.
“Jedgron, son of Elrohir, and Faihran and Letholes, sons of Glorfindel, Lord Elrond requested your immediate presence in his study”, one said in the elven-tongue known as Sindarin.
“Has he now? What for, Elvo?” replied Letholes in the same fair speech.
“He has not named, yet he said only that he needed you as soon as you could return. We will take your watch.”
“I cannot deny the request of my lord and grandfather. “Come, Faihran and Letholes! Let us ride like the wind to the call of Elrond!” Jedgron whispered to his companions.
“I thank you, my comrades. We saw nothing on out ride, and we await you in the Hall of Fire this evening.” He raised two fingers to his lips and let out a long, high-pitched whistle. The three horses came, and Jedgron leapt onto his steed Lightfoot, and the sons of mighty Glorfindel onto theirs, named Mithdal and Culfin. They rode with speed to Rivendell, using the hidden paths known only to those from the House and those with Elrond’s favor.
When they arrived in Imladris, they left their horses in the care of the stables and went to Elrond’s great library. There they found the great elf-lord himself poring over an old text with his advisor and great friend, Erestor.
“Ah, Jedgron, Faihran, and Letholes. I need to speak with you about a task of great importance.” the Lord of Rivendell said.
“Name it, lord, and it will be done swiftly”, Faihran declared. “We are ever and always at your command.”
“Thank you, Faihran Lauredhel, but do not be too eager, as it is a perilous mission.” He paused to recall out of his vast memory a horrible experience, as his face became pained, but it passed.
“My request of you three is to journey through Eriador to locate Gandalf the Grey and bring him here with the utmost speed. I have weapons for each of you to aid you on your journey, as it may take anywhere from four days to a fortnight to reach the nearest city west of Imladris.” He motioned to a table laden with gear behind him. The three came to the table and inspected what was given to each of them.
To Faihran were given two magnificent knives, wrought of strong steel, borne out of Gondolin during its ruin. They were identical; glittering in the sun as he coolly spun them in his hands. He was also given a gold-plated round shield bearing the heraldry of Turgon, the king of Gondolin. Letholes was given a shield like Faihran, and two twin knives. The knives given to them had the special quality of ancient Elven blades, an aid for when orcs were constantly near. Any blade that was forged by the Elves in that time would glow if any servant of the Morgoth, the Black Enemy, came near. To Jedgron was given a longbow of ash, a stronger bow never made before or after by the elves of Rivendell, and with it went a quiver of arrows of grey ash wood. He was also given the Silver-horn of Imladris, Celebrom, a magnificent horn of ebony wood, covered in mithril and inscribed with many spells of elvish origin so that it would not break by even the strongest hammer or hottest fire. All bowed profoundly to Elrond in deep gratitude.
“Thank you Elrond, we will not fail you.” Jedgron, Faihran and Letholes replied as one.
“Go with haste, and be careful. The blessings of the Elves go with you.” Elrond said, and went outside. The three Scouts of Rivendell each then went to their own dwellings to prepare for the trip.
Faihran went to his tree house, built on an old oak, but not cutting into it. The trunk grew in the middle, serving as a pillar and base for the rest of the dwelling. It was not a crude house, but a beautiful one with large flowing windows and smooth grey floors. He gathered bread and meat, putting the food into a sack. He put this and other provisions into a leather pack, which he slung on his back. He clad himself in thick green clothing, with a dark green cloak over all. Faihran always seemed to be wearing green for his love of the woods. He fastened this with a silver elven-brooch, with an inscription in the center, reading Faihran. He tightened a magnificent silver belt to his waist, tying on it a skin filled with water, a pouch inlaid with gems filled with his personal things, two sheathes, and his own horn. He put into the sheathes his long new knives, and slung on his back his golden shield,
His brother, Letholes, went to his house next to the ranger’s home in Rivendell. He put some dried fruit and oats of the storehouses of Rivendell into a leather bag, which he put into a pack similar to Faihran’s. He then clad himself in his light cotton clothes, and his special boots, who had sheathes in the backs large enough to hold a short-sword securely. He also donned a cloak like Faihran, with an elven brooch like his brother. Letholes wore cotton because of its ability to maximize his stealth and because of its noiseless movements. He placed his new knives in these hidden sheathes, and put his shield on his back. He walked around for a little, securing his things in his home and at last went to the large fountain in the center of the main courtyard.
Jedgron lingered for a moment in the library, wishing to speak to his grandfather. He approached him and sat down at a large table.
“Any news from Lorien or Mirkwood, Elrond? Anything of Lang or my mother?” he asked.
“We received word from Lorien yesterday. Lang dwells there with Arwen and Galadriel, and they mean to stay for a while among the Galadhrim.” Elrond replied. “You father and your uncle are setting out in a few days for Mirkwood and the Lonely Mountain, to learn of what has occurred there. I have heard there are a few problems with the dwarves of Erebor, but I hope otherwise. They will stay in the halls of Thranduil for a while, and then return with your mother and your cousin, Legolas. They will likely be back in a few weeks. Go now and rest, you have a long journey ahead of you.”
“But what of Gandalf? Why is his presence needed?”
“That will be revealed to you in due time my grandson. Go.”
Jedgron Cúthalion bowed low and left, heading for his house in the island of the Bruinen. The river cut through the valley, splitting into roaring streams, then rejoining to thunder out of the cleft. His home was on an island created by the rivulets, between the main house and the barracks of the guard. He crossed the small bridge and went to his sleeping chamber. There he removed his grey sentry uniform, and put on his travelling gear. He put on a long-sleeved white shirt, and pulled a short-sleeved green tunic over it, then put on white breeches and black leather boots that came up to his knees. He fastened a dark green cloak over this and clasped it with a green and silver brooch shaped like a leaf. Jedgron clad himself like this because the scouts of the ancient kingdom of Doriath dressed in this fashion, and he was descended from Thingol, the ancient King of that land. The soles of his boots were padded with leather and soft material so as to muffle his steps. He wore a shining belt, and fastened to it a pouch similar to Faihran’s, Celebrom, and a sheath for his knife. He filled a leather bag with honey-cakes and elven waybread, lembas, and placed this bag into his pack. He placed ropes in the pack, along with blankets and extra water. He carried the pack at his side, planning to have his horse carry it, and strapped his quiver over his shoulder. He hung his bow on his back, fetched his two dogs and left his dwelling to head for the main courtyard.
Once the three were gathered, they headed for the stables. They got their mounts, and Jedgron left his two hounds, Huan (named after the fierce Hound of the Valar) and Oromë (named after one of the Valar, the mightiest hunter ever), in the care of the stable master. They all strapped their packs onto the horses, tightening the straps behind the saddles. They leapt lightly into the saddles, and started to leave. As they approached the large stone arch that was the entrance of Imladris, they were met by three elves. These were Glorfindel, clad in white chain mail and white clothing, Elrohir in ranger’s clothing, and Elladan in the same as his twin.
“Hail, mighty scouts. Elrond has informed us of your quest, and we didn’t want to send you off with gifts and our blessings.” Glorfindel said to the three.
To each of his sons, Glorfindel gave a flagon of miruvor, the cordial of Imladris. Miruvor had such a special value that a single mouthful of the sweet liquid saved a man from fatigue and allowed the drinker to take less time in building back up his or her energy.
“You know what this is, so preserve it. It may provide an escape at the point of exhaustion.” He said to each of them.
Elladan gave all three cooking gear, pots, knives and pans.
“Bring these along, as your food supply may run out. You can hunt using the skills we’ve taught you over the years and feed yourselves.”
Each bowed to him and thanked him. To his own son, Elrohir gave an engraved silver flask, wrought with his name in elven script, filled with miruvor.
“My gift to you, my son, is similar to the gifts of Glorfindel. This flask belonged to Dior, whose likeness you are, so be honored by bearing the flask of our forefather.”
He gave his son a great hug, as Glorfindel did to his sons, and Jedgron hugged his uncle. Jedgron raised Celebrom to his lips and sounded it, and the sons of Glorfindel blew theirs.
“Forth Scouts of Rivendell! We ride to Bree and further then!” Letholes yelled, and then they all spurred their horses through the arch. With Faihran and Jedgron just behind him, Letholes grinned in excitement as the scouts began their journey.
The light was already waning when they came to the Ford, so decided to continue on until they felt need to rest. They needed no light, as with both their ancestry and their refined senses they could see accurately in the deepest dark. They rode four leagues further, and then dismounted to make camp for the night.