It's my birthday today, so I wish you all a nice day. Here you are, the end of this story.
Many thanks to all who read this little piece. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing and translating it.

Epilogue

A year later...

They were in trouble, that much was plain. The orcs attacked in the fog the patrol coming back home the shortest way possible, as they were already tired and wounded after some earlier encounter. Among twenty of the Rohirrim only a half was capable of handling weapons and the attack would not cease.

Hearing the sound of the hooves on the rocky ground, Hermedil turned around, unsure whether there where friends or enemies coming, but he could see little in the fog. His doubts were dispelled a moment later when two riders rode between the fighting. The fog softened the sound of their swords being bared, but could not muffle the terrified cries of the orcs or gurgling of those who found themselves within reach of the newcomers' blades.

In all the battle chaos Hermedil had no time to see who had come to their aid; he was grateful for any blade on their side. He protected one of his wounded soldiers and helped him back off; the strangers were clearing the ground and seemed to need more space.

Only then did Hermedil have time to look who saved his men from slaughter the fight was likely to end up in. From the results the newcomers got with their sudden appearance he thought there were more of them, but he saw only two strangers. 'No, not strangers,' realised Hermedil in astonishment as he saw the face of one of them and recognised the elf who visited their camp the previous Summer.

He had not really believed Thorongil when he had spoken about the abilities of his elven friends. Now he had no doubts his tales were not exaggerated. The brothers wreaked havoc, moving swiftly and fluently, guarding each other's backs and, as it seemed, never exposing themselves. After the first impact the brothers jumped off their horses and literally cut their way to the Rohirrim among the orcs. Soon the fight was over.

"Elen sila lumen omentielvo." Hermedil sighed in relief, recalling the greeting Thorongil had taught him. "You've come just in time."

The brother standing nearer turned towards him. Surprise flashed on his face, then his blood-covered face was lightened with a merry smile.

"So, we are meeting again, Hermedil." The elf replied in Common Speech, knowing probably that the greeting was all the Rohirrim knew. "Elrohir, look who we've bumped into," he called to his brother, who was already kneeling by one of the wounded.

"The men of Rohan," muttered the elf absent-mindedly. "Don't move," he ordered the man whom he was trying to help.

"Take a closer look," suggested Elladan.

"Right, I'll just..." Elrohir raised his head. "Oh." He smiled when he noticed Hermedil. "We are lucky. Not only have we finally got that pack, but we have also met friends," he said friendly and got back to tending to the wounded.

Hermedil took care of his men. He ordered the wounded to be patched up, the dead to be buried; they were too far away from home to risk taking the bodies to some more friendly grounds. He was grateful for the elves' help who took care of the most gravely wounded. But when he asked if they would accompany them at least part of the way, they declined.

"We have already ridden too far south," explained Elrohir, wiping his hands on some leaves. "We need to return before our friends start to worry about our absence. I don't think you'd be in danger."

"I hope so," replied Hermedil. "If our ways are to part so soon after our meeting, so be it. Go, as we are too in a hurry to reach open space."

Elrohir whistled purely and both black horses approached their riders. The elves mounted them swiftly and circled the men preparing to leave.

"Give Thorongil our best," called Elladan.

"Stay safe," replied Hermedil. He did not add that Thorongil had gone to Gondor in the Spring and remained there in service of the Steward. He suspected that if his elven friends wished to find him, they would easily do so.