the reach of the shadow

AUTUMN brought with it chilled air and brilliant colors, winds breezing through Imladris, stirring hair and clothing as they went. It brought whispers of winter to Meltellaro's mind, the hints of the darker days to come that made him shiver. He raised his eyes to the sky above—clear as one could hope for—and drew in a deep breath, allowing his chest to rise with the air flowing into his body.

He thought, with some amusement, that the coming cold of the air matched the all-to-rapidly approaching Shadow from the East. His amusement quickly soured, however, as a chill of cold fear crept into his bones. The Shadow was no laughing matter, he knew that very well. In fact, the very thought of it frightened him more than almost anything else.

He repressed a shudder, not wanting to alert his brother, Nólaminyar, to his dark thoughts. Nólaminyar stood beside him, on a balcony overlooking the main gate of Imladris. Not a week ago, they had stood here and watched Glorfindel ride through the gates, a nearly-dead Halfling in his arms. It was a sign, one that Meltellaro didn't want to face. He did not want this truth to be what it was.

But truth was truth, no matter the hopes of Elves and Men.

Peoples from all over Middle-Earth had been arriving in Imladris for weeks now; Dwarves, Elves from Mirkwood, and Aragorn and the Halflings, with hints of more danger and pain to follow. Now, the brothers watched as a group of Men rode into the courtyard. They hailed from Gondor by their dress, a group of six or seven, led by a tall man with sandy brown hair, kept shoulder-length as most Men did (and Meltellaro himself), and a thin, short beard.

The man looked up at the hall and trees around him. Elegant structures, Meltellaro knew, having seen them often for his whole life. The man's eyes passed over the beautiful scenery and landed upon Meltellaro's own face. Their eyes met.

They were blue. Deep blue, as the waters to the West, and Meltellaro felt he could drown as easily in them as in the sea. He took a breath, drawing it in deeply. He did not look away.

—

THE date was the twenty-third of October. The injured Halfling had yet to wake, though Elrond assured Meltellaro that he would soon enough. Meltellaro could not stop himself from looking in on the Halfling from time to time. He was present when Elrond first took charge of his care, watching as the young, pale Halfling shook, listless aside from his shivers and gasps. It wrenched Meltellaro's heart to see, as a healer.

He stood in the door, his arms crossed. The Halfling lay on a bed too large for him, dark hair mussed and skin still far too pale. Another Halfling, one called Samwise, sat at the bedside. He hadn't left this room since his arrival two days ago. He had slept, Elrond and Meltellaro made sure of that, but he ate little and moved rarely. It was worrying, to say the least. But the golden-haired Halfling refused to budge.

Meltellaro tapped lightly on the door to the healing room with one hand, the other balancing a breakfast tray. The blond Halfling looked up, his brown eyes widened in surprise, though his expression softened when he saw Meltellaro. "Oh, it's you," he said, and Meltellaro took this as permission to enter.

"I have brought you food," he told the Halfling. Meltellaro approached, and set the tray down on the edge of the bed—it was far too wide for the Halfling sleeping upon it, so it made a table for his companion with little fear of falling to the floor. "And words from your friends. They wish for news of you, and for you to rest."

Samwise shifted forward, picking at the food laid before him. "Not until I know if Mister Frodo's all right," he said firmly, nodding a little. His gold curls bobbed over his forehead.

Meltellaro opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. It was no use to attempt to convince Samwise to leave; he had tried many times already, and each time been denied. Samwise was a dedicated friend, Meltellaro knew that from speaking to him once. So he smiled, straightened the bedclothes, and said, "There is a room for you, if you need one. Your health matters as much as his."

The Halfling looked up at Meltellaro, a small smile on his lips. "I know," he said, "but I promised I'd be here for Mister Frodo, so that's what I'll do."

And of course, Meltellao could not fault him for that.

—

791 words.
Ahhh we've begun!! I'm so excited for this, but the beginning has given me some trouble. Please, share your thoughts! What do you think of my boy so far?