#adar out here assembling the avengers

[dogblessyoutascha]

HOW HAS IT BEEN ALMOST A YEAR SINCE I'VE DRAWN THESE TWO??? CRIMES! Anyways 500 word drabble under the cut.

Elendil’s horse was forced out from under him with a sundering blow — his sword quick to follow as he was swarmed with orcs. From every direction they came, overwhelming the trees and the earth in dozens until there was no more riding trail to follow.

The palantir had foretold of Elendil’s own narrow escape from the quaking of Numenor’s fall. It spoke of a forest he did not recognize and a trail he was to wander alone. Without his children. Without Tar-Miriel. Without any close family friends. His only company was a borrowed horse, once belonging to a dead compatriot, and the vast forests of Middle Earth.

It would be easy to give in to this, but he had failed to be calm before the storm. He had failed to weather so many trials and tribulations that a stubbornness took hold and demanded of Elendil that he at least manage this one simple task. He swore an oath.

Catching himself on his feet, Elendil ducked lower than his back would normally allow in order to dodge the swing of a mace…

… And to fetch a dagger from his boot.

The blade was comically small in his hand, but it was all he needed to set things right. Stripped of his titles or not, his body never forgot its training. Not as he smashed two orcs’ heads together and certainly not as he whirled around to slash at the next nearest foe. These creatures were a blur of motion in his eyes, nothing familiar about their techniques that he could count on.

Only one being stood steady on the field, and Elendil made certain to keep watch upon him as he grew closer. He’d seen the tainted elf before when first he rode in aid of the Southlanders, but that man, Adar, had been the quarry of Galadriel and Halbrand. If he had survived the volcano erupting-

-A lump welled up within Elendil’s throat. Elendil wanted nothing more than to find Isildur here. To find him alive. To no longer be alone.

The moment Adar was in reach, Elendil grabbed the elf’s shoulder with one hand and spun him into an easy submission. With one arm, he pinned Adar’s shoulders. With the other, Elendil pressed the tip of his blade into Adar’s neck — as strangely pliable as it was. Adar leaned back into Elendil’s grasp, humor obvious in the rumble he emitted.

“Twice in one season? Lucky me.” Adar’s droll words took Elendil aback, causing concern to overwrite the ferocity of his expression.

Lowering his voice, Elendil spoke practically into Adar’s cheek. “Twice? Do you find yourself in this position often?”

“Define often.” It was a simple quip as Adar’s body pressed tighter to Elendil’s until their armor grinded together as scales on steel. As Elendil’s fingers gripped Adar’s shoulder tighter and his dagger drew blood, Adar simply tilted his head to meet Elendil’s gaze. “All humor aside-” Adar swapped his languages to Sindarin so fluidly that it took Elendil’s mind a moment to catch up. “You do not wander these roads aimlessly. We meet on this day to aid one another against a larger threat.”