Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Disclaimer: Don't own them! Just borrowing some of Tolkien's characters and adding a few of my own for awhile...they'll all be back in one piece by the end of my story.

The summer day was hot, oppressive. Not a breath of air stirred as a small group of rangers quietly made their way through the barren countryside. They had been called to look into reports of large numbers of people disappearing in this region. Their suspicions were that someone had been building a pool of slaves by kidnapping unsuspecting travelers. Slavery was common in Middle Earth, but the slaves were usually criminals serving out life sentences or men captured as war prisoners. To simply take travelers and turn them into slaves was uncommonly brutal, even for those times. The mission of the rangers was to scout around and find the truth to the rumors and then if they were true, find the enslaved travelers and free them.

The five rangers who were following a trail along a dried up riverbed were an interesting group of individuals. They were led by a grizzled old veteran, Hammond, who was as tough as his fierce appearance implied. Anyone who didn't know him would think that he was a born killer, but the rangers knew that his exterior hid a valiant heart and would follow this man through the gates of Mordor itself.

His second in command was an unlikely sort. Tall and thin, with delicate features and soft flowing brown hair, Syndar would have looked more at home in a royal court than dressed in the dark cloak of a ranger. But he was a born adventurer and was well-known amongst the rangers as one of their best swordsmen.

Tolan was the third member. On the short side with frizzy blond hair and a full beard, he was built so solidly that his fellow rangers named him "Bull." He was strong and fierce, and many a good soul owed their life to this noble ranger.

The fourth ranger was Benodorius, called "Ben" for obvious reasons. He was the most light-hearted of the five and could always be counted on to keep the group in good spirits when his skills as a master archer weren't needed.

The last of their number was Aragorn, a relative newcomer who had been traveling with the rangers for less than a year. This was a serious young man in his early 20s who had been brought up by elves and had only recently joined his ranger brethren. He had gone to them the previous year to ask for their assistance while hunting for his missing foster brother. Although he was the son of the rangers’ dead chieftain and could someday lead them, it had been his first extended exposure to the rangers and he had been surprised to find that he so easily fit in with their lifestyle. Once the search for his brother had been called off, he decided that for now he wished to stay with them and learn more about this other side of his life. Although young, his formidable skills as both a warrior and a healer had already been appreciated by the small band and he was pleased to have been so accepted by them.

As the rangers followed the uninspiring trail, Aragorn studied the landscape in search of dangers. Seeing nothing of interest, he allowed his thoughts to reflect back on his hunt for Elrohir, his elven foster brother who had vanished without a trace well over two years ago. At first the family had not been greatly alarmed when he had not returned from a trip to Rohan to select new horses for Rivendell's elven patrols. Elrohir was well-known as a fierce and determined warrior who could handle himself in any situation. No...only Elladan, Elrohir's identical twin brother, had been worried when his brother did not come home on time.

Aragorn grimaced as his thoughts spun back to those early days of Elrohir's disappearance. By the time he was only three days overdue, Elladan was almost frantic. He had gone to their father, Elrond, Lord of Rivendell and begged for a contingent of warriors to help search for his lost twin. However, even Elrond, wise all-knowing Elrond, had not taken Elladan's concerns seriously. He dearly loved his children and never would have allowed a moment to pass without sending out a search party if he'd thought there had been any real cause for anxiety. Elrond knew, though, that his elven sons had been upset with each other just before Elrohir's departure, over some trifle he was sure, and thus he dismissed Elladan's unease as simply an overreaction to the guilt he felt for sending his brother off with harsh words. No, even Elrond hadn't seen a problem with the younger twin's tardiness.

It wasn't until Elrohir was a week late that Elrond finally agreed to send out a party of scouts. There still wasn't a great sense of alarm, though. There were any number of benign events that could have been keeping the young elf lord from returning home--an unexpected visit with friends, perhaps a blocked path from a rockslide, or even bad weather. There had been no reports of any hostile activity on the roads between Rivendell and Rohan, so there really hadn't been any reason to fear that something terrible had befallen Elrohir.

Elladan, however, had seemed to know from the very beginning that there had been something dreadfully wrong. Often during the following months of searching, Aragorn had wondered if things might have turned out differently if they'd heeded Elladan's concerns earlier and had set off immediately to find their lost brother. As it was, by the time they had begun their search the trail was cold and not a trace of him could be found. Elrohir had apparently reached Rohan, stayed for several days as he made his selections of horses, and then left after arranging for their delivery to Rivendell in the fall. After that, nothing. No one had seen nor heard of the elf after he left Rohan. No faded tracks, no scrap of fabric, not even a sign of his horse. He was just...gone.

A call from Hammond broke into Aragorn's reflections, "Lad, you plan on joining us for lunch, or perhaps you're tired of our company?"

Aragorn halted in his tracks as he heard snickers from some of the other rangers. He noted with embarrassment that the others had stopped several yards back while he had walked on, lost in his memories.

"My apologies," he answered with a wry smile. As he walked back to join the others, he knew he'd have to endure some serious ribbing for being caught "daydreaming." It was just the sort of thing his brothers would have teased him for mercilessly--a thought that made the smile fall from his face as he sadly reflected that there was no danger of that happening. Elrohir had long-since vanished and Elladan had lost all sense of lightness and humor with the disappearance of his twin. With a sigh, he pulled out his rations and joined the others on the ground.

"Why so serious, lad?" asked Tolan, who had taken on the self-appointed task of looking out for their newest member.

In appearance, Tolan couldn't have been more different from Aragorn's elven brothers. His short, stocky frame contrasted directly with the twins. They were dark-haired, tall and slender with the handsome perfect features that had captured the eye of many an elven maiden. Physical appearance aside, however, Tolan reminded Aragorn strongly of his brothers in the way that the older man was constantly trying to "take care" of him. It had greatly annoyed him in the past when his brothers had been overprotective, but now he accepted Tolan's concern without irritation, if only as a bittersweet reminder of what he'd lost.

Aragorn looked up from the sandwich he had pulled from his pack. Although all his companions, of course, knew of the circumstances that had led the young man to the rangers, he didn't feel at the moment like sharing his thoughts with anyone. His memories were a little too close to the surface today, and he wouldn't risk becoming emotional. So he answered, "It's nothing, really. I just got lost in thought. The scenery here is so dull that I was forced to reflect back on more appealing lands. Have you ever seen a place so lacking in interest as this?"

Accepting Aragorn's question as a cue to switch subjects, Tolan started in on a description of some of the more dull places he'd traveled to, and soon the rest of the rangers were involved in a contest of "the most boring places I've been."

The companionable banter of the rangers along with the need to focus on his surroundings kept Aragorn's thoughts distracted from his brother's plight for the rest of the day. It was only at night as he lay on his cloak that he once more found himself remembering the long ago events.

The first months had been a flurry of activity as the whole of Rivendell seemed to focus on finding their lost prince. Lord Elrond had sent requests for aid to the other elven realms as well as to many of their dwarven and human allies. From Rivendell itself, countless search parties were formed and sent along the roads between their home and Rohan, spreading out farther and farther as no sign was found of Elrohir. Elladan and Aragorn had been part of those search parties, spending long, tedious hours scouring the countryside for the slightest sign of their beloved brother. But the days had stretched into weeks and the weeks into months as no one found even the smallest hint of Elrohir's fate.

As Aragorn tossed restlessly, unable to sleep, he tried to decide why all this was coming back so powerfully to him today. After nearly a year of searching, he, along with the others, had been forced to give up and start living their lives again. Never forgetting Elrohir, of course, and never ever getting over the loss, but moving on. Only Elladan refused to give up the hunt, determined that somehow, somewhere, he'd find his twin. But now almost a year and a half had passed since Aragorn had forsaken the hunt and he found it strange that today he'd be feeling the loss again so keenly. Traveling with the rangers and forging a new life had helped Aragorn move past the devastating effect of not knowing what had happened to his brother, so it was perplexing that his loss was now so thoroughly consuming his thoughts.

Perhaps it was the ranger's mission that was bringing everything back so strongly, Aragorn reflected. If the reports were true, unwary travelers were being snatched away from their lives and thrust into slavery, leaving their families behind to wonder what happened to them. Although they were nearly a continent away from where Elrohir had disappeared, the similarities between his unknown fate and those of the missing travelers were apparently enough that Aragorn's subconscious was linking them. At any rate, that's what Aragorn finally decided before he fell asleep.

Two days later, the small group of rangers reached their destination. They had paused just inside the valley, beyond sight of the village to change from their distinctive ranger attire to that of simple travelers and then continued on. The outlying lands were parched and barren, with cultivated patches of greenery the only sign of life. The largest of these patches, they were to learn later, belonged to Lord Hebert, a man that the rangers had especially wanted to question. As the main power in these lands, he would have a good idea of what was going on in this area. Or, of course, he may be the very one responsible for the disappearance of so many travelers. Either way, Hammond instructed his little band of rangers to find out as much as they could about this man as they entered the large, bustling village.

The rangers spent the first two days in the valley getting to know the countryside and the people. They spent hours visiting the marketplace and socializing in the taverns, talking to the townspeople while trying to determine what, if anything, was going on. The residents were incredibly close-mouthed, either from natural reticence or perhaps fear. Regardless, the rangers were rather frustrated in their search until Ben was able to charm some information from a cheerful young barmaid. She had either not learned yet to keep local information from outsiders, or decided to ignore that unspoken rule when faced with the bright smile of the flirtatious stranger.

Ben shared his news at the end of the day when the small band met back up in the inn that they'd chosen as their nightly rendezvous point.

"I’ve learned something," he announced to his companions as they sat down to dinner. He spoke in a low tone to ensure that no one else could hear. "The large farm run by Lord Hebert wasn't doing very well until just recently. The land here requires a great amount of work in order to produce anything worthwhile. Work that requires large numbers of laborers. The little maid I spoke to told me that Lord Hebert's crops were failing, and then slowly he began to build a pool of slave labor that he was able to use to care for his lands. And now, he is the most prosperous landowner on this side of the mountains. Although she didn't say it directly, she implied that the villagers thought it odd that he could afford slaves when his lands were doing so poorly."

"He might have had some money put aside, or sold some family jewels to pay for them," said Tolan thoughtfully. "It is interesting, but this doesn't tell us if the slaves are really ill fated travelers."

"True," added Hammond. "We need to do some more digging. Syndar, you, Ben, and Aragorn keep up the hunt for information tomorrow in the village. Bull, you will come with me. It's time we paid Lord Hebert a visit."

The next morning, the rangers split up to perform their assigned tasks--three of them heading to various spots throughout the village while Hammond and Tolan started for the large farms nestled in the foothills of the large valley. It was midmorning before the two reached the outermost of Lord Hebert's fields. As they walked amongst the green rows of crops, they passed many workers laboring in the already blistering heat. At first, they'd tried to talk to these men, but realized in short order that they would get no information from the field slaves. Even the ones that looked like they might like to talk became quickly silent when one of the guards, who were posted throughout the fields, approached. The rangers finally stopped trying to engage them and by the time the sun was fully in the morning sky, they reached the main house.

As they neared the front door, they noted with approval the clean, well-kept yard and freshly painted buildings. Glimpses of the abundant harvest piled high in the various barns also told the story--whatever else he was, Lord Hebert was obviously more than competent when it came to managing his farm. Everything spoke of prosperity and careful attention. Taking silent note of these findings, the rangers were not surprised when the door opened before they had even knocked. In such a well-run establishment, their arrival would not have gone unnoticed.

"Greetings, fine sirs," stated a tall, rather rough-looking man who joined them on the front stoop. "This is a long way off the beaten path. What brings you to us this morning?"

Tolan let Hammond do all the talking, and he quickly launched into the story that they had decided on earlier, "Greetings. I am Hammond. My partner is Tolan. We are from a village on the other side of the mountains that has suffered greatly from many recent floods which destroyed our spring crops. We have come to these lands to buy enough food to get our people through the rest of the season, until we can bring in another harvest."

Hammond saw the interest in the other man's eyes. He obviously wasn't the type to be overly concerned at another's misfortune if it meant more profits for him. Hammond continued to size the man up. This wouldn't be Lord Hebert himself. The man was simply not the type--despite his initial attempt at polite conversation, he had clearly been brought up in a less genteel setting. His common accent as well as his graceless posture did not bespeak of a man used to high society. Still, he did have a certain air of power...probably the overseer here.

"I'm Borgas, Lord Hebert's overseer. He's not here now...he likes to travel and has left me to take care of things. Come along, let's walk to the barns while we discuss what you need. Then you can look over our harvest and we can agree on a price if you like what you see."

The rangers followed Borgas over to the closest outbuilding while they listened to him ramble on about the efficiency of his workers, the quality of the produce, as well as the great variety he had to offer. Making appropriate responses but assuming he was exaggerating, the rangers were quite surprised and impressed when they walked into the barn. Borgas obviously hadn't been overstating anything. From floor to ceiling, the barn was full of well-preserved, perfectly grown crops. Not a blemish was seen on the fruits, vegetables, and grains that lined the barn.

"This was picked yesterday," said Borgas proudly. "We're crating it up tonight and sending it off to Tarberville. You know it? The town to the east of yon mountains?"

Tolan responded with the first words he'd spoken to Borgas, "Aye, it's about fifty leagues from our village, but they were spared the floods by a valley that runs between us."

"It looks like you have precisely what we need," stated Hammond. "However, we would need a large amount fairly soon. Do you have the manpower to gather up what we need and prepare it for transport within the several weeks?" continued the ranger, finally trying to divert the conversation into a discussion of the laborers.

"No worries there!" guffawed the overseer. "Our men'll do what they're told. If they have to work without sleep, we'll get the job done!"

Smiling to keep things light, Hammond continued, "Then you must pay your men well if they are willing to work like that. You are fortunate."

"Don't pay them nothing--they're slaves," said Borgas disdainfully. "A piece of the crop to fill their bellies and a roof over their heads is more than enough for them!"

Hammond paused a moment, trying to decide just how to pursue a discussion about the slaves when the conversation was suddenly interrupted by a commotion behind them. Turning around with interest, the rangers saw an altercation between a couple slaves in the far corner of the yard. The shorter of the two, a mousy looking fellow, was gesturing and screaming obscenities while a tall, scruffy dark-haired man stood there with his arms folded, apparently refusing to pick up the bundle on the ground between the two.

"Ach, not again!" grumbled Borgas. "That's the third time this month. Sometimes he's more trouble than he's worth. You wait here. I have something to take care of," the overseer added to the rangers and stormed off.

Hammond and Bull hesitated just a moment before following, hoping for a better chance to learn something when things were in disarray.

"Silence!" roared Borgas as he approached the two slaves. "Now, what's happened?...as if I couldn't guess!"

The slave that had been yelling cut off his ranting with a squeak. Then, turning to the furious overseer, he pointed at the other slave, still standing stock still with his arms folded and glaring straight ahead. "He won't do his fair share!" whined the short, wiry slave. "I brought these canes up from the field, and he’s supposed to take them to the barn and stack them. But he won't pick them up."

Several of the other slaves who had gathered around to watch the dispute nodded in agreement when the overseer looked at them.

Shaking his head in utter irritation, Borgas back turned to the other slave, who had yet to make any move or sound. "Well?!" he shouted. Getting no answer and expecting none, he brutally punched the silent slave in the stomach, the swiftness of the attack startling the watching rangers.

The slave was bent over, trying to catch his breath when the furious overseer used a massive hand to pull him up by his throat and snarled in his face, "I've just about had it with you. You never seem to learn, do you?" Striking him in the face with the back of his other hand, he continued, "You do what you're told. Period. Not what you want. Not what you decide. Just what you're told!"

The rangers fought the urge to interfere as they saw the silent slave's face turn red as his breath was slowly choked from him. Interestingly, the dark-haired man made no move to fight or pull away from the overseer. Before he could pass out, though, Borgas roughly dropped him to the ground and watched as the slaved curled up and gasped for air.

"I will not tolerate any kind of trouble! Do you all hear?!" he shouted at the group of slaves gathered around. He emphasized his point with a vicious kick at the slave lying in the dirt.

Hammond hissed as he watched the heavy boot connect with the slave's lower back. The hapless man on the ground twisted in pain but made no sound as another kick caught him higher up on his back, then a third on his shoulder, and then a final one caught him on the side of his head. To the utter relief of the watching rangers, the rain of blows then ended with that.

Borgas nudged his difficult slave with a foot, satisfied that he'd made his point and turned back to the rangers in disgust.

"Damned elf!" he said angrily. "Works as hard as ten men usually, but then he's more trouble than fifty when he's a mind to!"

Turning back to the crowd, he bellowed to two guards who had come up from the fields when they'd heard the shouting, "Get him out of here and chain him up. You know what he's like after a beating."

The rangers watched as each of the guards grabbed an arm and dragged the semi-conscious slave across the yard, making no effort to avoid the many rocks that littered the ground. Hammond looked at the overseer, whose face was hard with anger. He debated approaching him just yet, but he had to find out if he'd actually heard what he thought he'd heard.

"That slave...the one that caused the trouble...you called him an elf?" asked Hammond casually. He was feeling anything but relaxed, though. It was bad enough having to watch the unnecessary brutality, but...an elf!! That dark-haired slave hadn't been a man at all, but an elf?! What possible reason could there be for a firstborn to be held as a slave?

"Aye," growled the overseer, calming down as the crowd dispersed to do their jobs. "Hardest worker we have most of the time, but then he gets stubborn and we have to get him under control again. Flaming nuisance! Now it'll be days before he's pulling his full load again."

Borgas mistook the look on the rangers' faces, "Don't worry...we have plenty of other workers. There won't be any delay in bringing in the harvest."

This newest development was quite intriguing to the rangers. If nothing else, the presence of an elven slave would tend to suggest that there might be something strange going on at this estate. It certainly seemed to lend credence to the rumors that the slaves may not be the usual criminal sort. However disturbing their new findings were, though, they still needed to keep up the appearance of produce buyers.

"Good," Hammond answered Borgas' comments regarding the harvest. "As to the price...how much for a yield similar in size to the one in the barn, ready for transport in two week's time?"

"Well," started the overseer, "normally it would be about two hundred silver pieces, but seeing how it's for a village in trouble, I'll let it go for one-eighty."

Since the rangers had no intention of really buying anything, the cost was irrelevant. They just needed an excuse to hang around and talk to the slaves. They'd find a way to cancel the deal before the crops were actually harvested, making sure that if the farm was a legitimate business, they didn't cause them to lose money from having harvested the crops without having a buyer ready. Still, it was not standard practice to accept the first price--a bit of haggling would be necessary.

"I appreciate your generous offer," said Hammond, "but one-eighty is more than I’m prepared to spend. I would offer one-fifty--still a handsome price, you must agree."

Borgas shook his head. He, also, knew how to play this game. "At that price I'd have to be answering to my lord when he returned. One-seventy."

"Done!" agreed Hammond and the men shook hands. "I'll be back tomorrow to work out the details of what precisely we'll need. And if you don't mind, I'd like to bring my son with me. He stayed back in the village, but I know he'd appreciate seeing such a well-run farm as this one. He's always had a great interest in the running of large businesses. Maybe he could pick up a few pointers from your men."

Borgas nodded agreeably. As long as he was making money, he didn't care if some whelp wandered around asking questions.

With that, the rangers said their farewells and headed back into town, curious to see if compatriots had found out anything as interesting as they had learned that day.

That evening as the rangers gathered around the inn table once more, they shared their findings from the day. The group that had stayed in town hadn't found out anything new at all. Even Ben, who had gone back to see the pretty barmaid, could get nothing else from her. She had apparently been scolded severely for talking to the stranger earlier and had greeted his return coldly.

The rangers quietly discussed the findings from the two who'd been to the farm, pleased that their story had been so readily accepted and that they'd be able to return again. This time, they'd be able to walk amongst the fields, presumably to decide which of the crops they wanted, but in reality they'd be able to question the field slaves again. Perhaps even out of sight of any of the guards. They were confident that they'd soon be able to find the truth.

Aragorn noted Bull watching him as Hammond completed his report of their findings. He understood why when Hammond paused at the conclusion of his narrative and then added, "Aragorn, you'll be the one to accompany me tomorrow. I set it up that you'll be my son, who's coming along since he's interested in running a large business. You'll be able to walk around the farm asking questions without anyone getting suspicious. But lad...that's not the main reason I chose you. You see...there's one last thing you need to know. We saw a slave there today...he was tall, dark-haired...and it was an elf, lad. We don't know anything else about him, but I was thinking that you and I could go back tomorrow and take a look at him."

Aragorn's heart stopped. He was certain it did. He felt that everything in his body just froze as he contemplated what he'd just heard. Hammond had seen an unknown, dark-haired elf. Against all logic, he just knew...it had to be Elrohir! They hadn't found him anywhere else in Middle Earth, so why couldn't he be here? Fate, or divine intervention, or even plain dumb luck must have led him to this place to find and rescue his brother. He dimly became aware that Bull was talking to him.

Pulling himself quickly back together, the young ranger asked, "You said you saw him. What did he look like? You've seen Elladan...did he look like that?" Not pausing for answers, he continued, "Was he well? Did they say anything about how he came to be there? What was his name?"

"Lad," interrupted Hammond's deep voice with a patient smile. "Like I said, we don't know anything beyond that he's a dark-haired elf. Honestly, he was too covered in dirt to see what he looked like."

He deliberately didn't mention that even without the dirt, the elf's face would've been hard to recognize, first when he was gasping for air from being choked and then when he had been in agony from the brutal treatment he'd endured. No, this little piece of news wouldn't help Hammond's attempt to keep his youngest ranger from getting too anxious.

Instead, he continued, "We didn't want to create any suspicions by inquiring too much into his past, but we did learn that he'd been there for around two years...." He raised his hand to stop the young man who obviously wanted to interject something, "Ah, ah...just wait. As I was saying, he'd been there for about two years, so there isn't much danger that he'll be gone by tomorrow. We can go back then and see what, if anything, needs to be done."

The rest of the evening passed quietly as the rangers discussed plans for the next day. Understandably, their youngest member was distracted and frequently had to be brought back into the conversation. Aragorn could hardly sit still, which was very uncharacteristic for this normally unruffled young man. He knew it was ridiculous, but he was ready to jump up right then and there and race out to the farm, even if it meant he'd arrive in the middle of the night. Common sense told him this was a stupid idea, but...but what if it was Elrohir? Having to wait until the next morning to find out was simple torture! The other rangers did what they could to distract him, teasing him when his mind continued to wander. Finally, Hammond conceded defeat and sent the preoccupied youngster up to bed.

Aragorn lay in his bed, wide-awake until the wee hours of the morning. Hundreds, maybe thousands of memories crowded his thoughts. Random scenes from his childhood popped into his mind, one after another. Leaping into his brothers' arms when they returned from one of their many hunting trips. Sitting in an apple tree with the twins, loving them for the patient way they listened to how he'd gotten in trouble once again for mischief. Watching his brothers laugh themselves silly over yet another one of their pranks. Rejoicing at the pride he saw in their eyes when he hit his first bull's-eye........The crushing despair that Elladan radiated after his twin's disappearance. That was the memory that finally consumed Aragorn's thoughts. He couldn't get it out of his mind how inconsolable his eldest brother had been when everyone had been forced to give up the search for Elrohir. Lying there, wide awake, he made a promise to Elladan that he'd go tomorrow and find his twin and then nothing would keep him from bringing him home!

Miles away from the restless young ranger, the dark-haired troublemaker came to, face down in a muck-filled stall with a metal cuff on his ankle, chaining him to the wall. He fought back a groan as he pulled himself up. He couldn't remember being chained up. At some point during his trip to the barn, he had apparently passed out and he was irritated to note that he was covered with even more scrapes and bruises than he'd had before being kicked around by the overseer. He carefully cataloged his new hurts, calling himself an utter fool in a hundred different ways for having caused trouble in the first place. He should have known better! He shouldn't have refused to take the bundle into the barn, even if it was crawling with vermin. He had seen the bugs that would have quickly infested the rest of the harvest and he was trying to do the right thing. That weasel of a slave who got him in trouble had seen the bugs, as well. He knew that. B ut the other slaves seemed to find a special joy in finding ways to make his life miserable. Ever since he'd arrived, they'd found a perverse satisfaction in finding ways to torment him themselves or get him in trouble with the guards or the overseer. He had never done anything to them to justify this abuse, but he assumed that the sorry lot simply enjoyed making someone else more miserable than them. Well, never again would he give them such an easy opportunity. If they wanted to ruin the crop, so be it. He'd not interfere!

The elven slave carefully shook his head, surprised to find how clear his thoughts were for once. Usually he had such trouble focusing on things that he would simply go along with whatever he was told to do--incidents like this afternoon's being a notable exception. This momentary ability to think clearly wouldn't do him much good, however. He was unable to do anything other than just sit there, seeing how the chain was going to keep him in the stall for a good many days. He'd been chained before, countless times if truth be told, and he knew that he'd be stuck there for at least a week before the overseer got over his anger and once more released him to work in the fields. With nothing else to do, the wretched elf decided to go to sleep. Unable to bear laying down once more in the reeking filth, though, he pulled his sore body to the wall, brought his knees up, and lowered his head into his arms, finding comfort in the welcoming oblivion of darkness.

Chapter 2, Found

Hammond and his impatient "son" started out for the farm just before dawn. The older ranger knew that Aragorn had not slept one wink the night before and decided that they might as well start on their way early since they were both wide awake.

They arrived the farm by mid-morning and were just walking up to the main house when Borgas came from around the back of one of the barns and greeted them.

"You're here early," he said. "Must be anxious to get that food to your folks. Ah...and this would be your son."

Hammond nodded his greeting and put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, "Aye, this here is my boy. Like I'd guessed, he was very excited about seeing your place today."

Borgas greeted Aragorn with a friendly grin, "Happy to have you look around, lad. It's not every day we get a youngster interested in the way we run things. I'll have Johar show you around," he finished, gesturing to a young guard that just joined the little group.

The next few hours passed with Hammond accompanying Borgas around to look at various different crops while Aragorn listened to Johar explaining the workings of the farm. Despite the fact that he only listened to the recitation with half an ear while he searched in vain for the elven slave, Aragorn heard enough to realize that the business was impressively run. Although no closer to finding his brother, he was deciding that the farm may be so productive simply because it was so well run, and not because there was something sinister going on like the rumors suggested.

By lunchtime, however, Aragorn was unable to concentrate at all on doing his job since he was nearly driven to distraction. Even though he'd been to nearly every outbuilding and had seen dozens of slaves, he still hadn't seen the elf. Hammond had warned him not to inquire about him, but he was determined that he would defy his leader if necessary if he didn't get satisfaction soon.

When everyone got back together for the midday meal, Hammond noted with amusement his younger friend's obvious state of mind. He knew it had to be so hard for Aragorn to play the curious young farmer when all the while he was desperate to see the elf and while Hammond had thought that too much interest might look suspicious, he knew that he'd have to do something before Aragorn said something foolish.

"Friend Borgas," he said casually, to get the overseer's attention. As the burly overseer looked over at him, the ranger found himself surprised that he was actually beginning to like the man. He may be much too harsh to his slaves in Hammond's opinion, but other than that, he'd been a friendly and helpful host the entire day. He continued, "I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. I mentioned to my son, here, that you had an elven slave. Since he's never seen an elf, he was most interested in getting a look at him, but I haven't seen him around today. Would it be possible to bring him here so my son could go back and brag to his friends that he'd seen one?"

If Aragorn hadn't been so worried about the overseer's response, he would have been amused at Hammond's statement. 'Had never seen an elf, indeed!' He held his breath while he waited for Borgas' answer.

"Ah...afraid we have a problem there. He's locked up at the moment. Punishment, you know, for yesterday's defiance. I could take you to him, though, if you're that interested. The slave barn is rather nasty, so it's up to you if you really want to go," was Borgas' answer.

Aragorn nodded, unable to speak as he tried to keep his expression one of interest rather than desperation.

Hammond answered for both of them, "We'd appreciate the look. Maybe after we finish lunch?"

Hammond followed his lead, enjoying the well-laid table. Aragorn tried to do so as well, but found that the food tasted like wood to him. He did his best to appear nonchalant and relaxed, but the whole meal seemed eternal to him. Inside he was so keyed up that he couldn't keep track of any of the conversation. He wanted to see the elf now! He wasn't naive--despite his initial optimism, he knew in reality that the chance the elf was Elrohir was slight, but even that small chance was driving Aragorn wild. What was taking so long?! Unable to eat anything else, Aragorn started to interrupt the discussions when he thought he couldn't wait another second, but a stern glare from Hammond cut him off. He forced himself to calm down and at least pretend to sit patiently while the two older men talked about...whatever it was they were talking about.

Then, just when Aragorn thought that he would surely go mad, lunch was over and the small group headed to see the elf. Finally!

Borgas led Hammond and Aragorn outside the main house, through the horse pastures and the animal pens, past the large fields of crops, and at last into a walled courtyard housing an enormous barn-like structure that was apparently the slaves' quarters. As they walked inside, Aragorn's senses were overwhelmed as the stench of unwashed bodies and filth rolled over him. Schooling himself not to gag, he breathed through his mouth and continued behind the others, his keen eyes taking in his surroundings. It was beyond hot in the building, with only a few tiny windows near the roof letting in any fresh air. He supposed that it was to prevent the slaves from escaping, but from what he had seen of the wretches, they didn't look like they had plans to run away. They weren't chained, but their eyes told the story of men who had long ago stopped thinking of themselves as free men.

His gaze continued to take in the rest of the building as he walked behind the others. There was no real furniture in the building, nor rooms, just several corridors with open stalls lining them. Most of the stalls were empty since the slaves were out working in the fields. The few that remained were ones who had duties closer to the main house, and thus could go to their quarters during their breaks. They huddled in the stalls, some eating, some resting, and some talking softly amongst themselves. Aragorn, for the life of him, couldn't understand why anyone would voluntarily come into this repugnant building. And how could the rest of the farm be so pristine while this place was allowed to be revolting!? This mystery was at least answered by Borgas' next statement.

"Like I told you, nasty place, huh?" said the overseer. "We used to give the slaves time to keep it clean, but they don't want to do it. Too many of them are lazy if they're not being made to work. A pity, but since they're the ones that have to live in this filth, I don't bother myself with it much."

Continuing on through the large building, Aragorn took a deep breath and coughed as the stale air filled his lungs. He didn't know how the slaves could even breathe in the oppressively hot building, but put them out of his thoughts as the overseer at last stopped in front of a stall that held a single slave. It was instantly apparent that he was unlike the others. First of all, he was alone and chained. He was sitting against the wall with his knees to his chest, bound to the wall by a chain linking a metal cuff around his right ankle. Secondly, he was far dirtier than any of the other slaves--grimy with torn clothes. Finally, even though they couldn't see his face, the set of his shoulders radiated defiance, something that was lacking in the other slaves. The man, or elf--Aragorn couldn't tell--had his head cradled on his arms, which were resting on his knees, but the tension in his body showed that he wasn't truly sleeping. He did have dark hair, but Aragorn couldn't make out any other features since his face was buried under the tangled, matted hair.

Desperate to have a look, Aragorn approached, only to have the overseer snap loudly, "Don't get too close! That one doesn't like to be touched! He can be downright vicious if you're not careful."

Aragorn had stopped abruptly at the order, but kept his eyes before him. With the overseer's words, the chained figure had picked his head up for a moment to glare at the newcomers, and then dropped his head again in disinterest. This short interaction was enough and Aragorn felt like crying in disappointment. Against all reason, he had felt so sure that somehow the captive elf was going to be Elrohir. But the elf before him--and yes, Aragorn had seen the pointed ears when he'd moved--couldn't be his brother. The face had been too filthy to make out any features, but Aragorn felt no connection with the figure in front of him and indeed, the elf apparently hadn't recognized Aragorn either. More importantly, he just didn't 'feel' like Elrohir. That...'something' that Aragorn always felt in the presence of his father or brothers just wasn't there. No, there was nothing familiar about the hostile figure to recall the charming elf that was his brother.

Hammond, noting Aragorn's reaction wanted to sigh. He'd grown to care for the spunky lad and had hoped somehow for a happy ending. He was still determined, however, to do something for the unfortunate creature before him. Even though the elf didn't appear to be the lost Elrohir, he just didn't belong chained up. A firstborn bound into slavery was a mockery of all that was good and decent in the world and Hammond had to try to right the wrong.

"We call him 'Elf,'" cackled the overseer. A dangerous look from Hammond made him add hastily however, "Uh...but his name is 'Dan.' Strange name for an elf, don't you think? But at least he answers to it."

Aragorn actually gasped out loud at the man's last sentence. It was an odd name for an elf, in fact, not an elven name at all. But 'Dan' was Elrohir's nickname for their brother and it was certainly not inconceivable that Elrohir would borrow that name if for some reason he didn't want to use his own. Looking at the elf again with fresh eyes, Aragorn this time started to look for similarities between the elf and his brother rather than differences. Same hair color, probably around the same height, same build, yes...the hands were the same too. The body was thinner perhaps, but that could be accounted for by his captivity. If only he could look into the elf's eyes. Tense now as he knelt before the chained elf, he cautiously called out, "Elrohir?" Getting no response, he tried again, "Dan?"

The elf slowly raised his head and looked at the young man kneeling on the ground. The eyes held no recognition, only a wary dislike of the human before him. He despised all humans and couldn't imagine why this one was bothering him. After running through all the possibilities, he concluded that a strange young man talking to him probably meant trouble. After directing a hate-filled glare at him, he shifted back further into the stall and put his head back down.

The quick look from the elf, however, had stunned Aragorn. The elf may not have seemed to recognize his younger brother, but Aragorn knew without doubt that he recognized the elf chained before him. He'd changed tremendously and apparently didn't know who Aragorn was, but it was Elrohir!

"Is he for sale?" was all Aragorn could croak out. His mouth had dried up he began to shake with the suppressed desire to fling himself at his brother and never let him go. He didn't know what to do. If he showed how dear the elf was to him, he was afraid that the overseer would refuse to sell him out of sheer spite or maybe make the price so outrageous that they couldn't afford him. He threw a pleading look at Hammond, hoping that the older ranger would read what was in his eyes and figure out a plan.

Hammond indeed saw the message that Aragorn sent him and hoped the young ranger would pull himself together quickly. But before he could say anything, the overseer responded.

"I hadn't planned on it. But given the right price, I'd be willing to consider a sale," he answered with a smile.

The older ranger wanted to sigh in disgust. Obviously, the overseer had seen Aragorn's reaction to the elf and was going to drive a hard bargain. Trying to lessen the damage from Aragorn's overeager behavior, he replied, "Well, I appreciate you showing us your elf, here, Borgas, but despite my son's interest, we really have no need for an elven slave. Besides, I saw him yesterday--seems to be a real troublemaker. I don't think we could use him," he finished and turned around as if to walk away.

The overseer may have been uncultured, but he was a shrewd negotiator and noted with amusement the younger man's desperation to own the elf. Recognizing the longing but misreading the cause, he decided to use the young man's desire to get a handsome price for the troublesome slave.

"Well....I think your lad here is not ready to walk away from a deal. Are you, boy?" grinned Borgas.

With a look of exasperation at his young partner, Hammond turned back to the overseer and asked, "On the off-chance we were interested, what would you take for him?"

The ranger wanted to groan as he saw the cunning smirk on the overseer's face. He knew that the price they'd have to pay would be outrageous. He'd have to give Aragorn some lessons on never showing your hand in a negotiation like this.

Borgas knew he had the two men where he wanted them. The younger one was visibly longing for that stupid elf and the older one seemed that he would eventually indulge his young son. Thus, he grinned as he said, "100 silver pieces should just about do it."

Even Hammond had a hard time not reacting. 100 silver pieces--that was outrageous! The usual price for a premium slave was barely 50. Aragorn, finally learning his lesson, made no response, waiting for Hammond's next move. Obviously, there was no way they could pay such a sum. Even if all the rangers pooled together their money, they wouldn't even have half of that.

That thought was clearly in Hammond's mind as well as he answered, "Ridiculous! No slave is worth that much."

"No human slave, I grant you," answered Borgas. "But this is an elf. He works as hard as ten of the others and is immortal on top of it. The way I see it, you'd be getting a bargain."

"Worth ten, perhaps, at times. But you, yourself, said yesterday that he can be as troublesome as fifty. That must be taken into account when setting a price," tried Hammond.

Borgas shook his head, "Like I said, I really had no intention of selling him. So, if you want him, you'll have to meet my price. 100 silver pieces. You can go back and think on it overnight. This elf's not going to be going anywhere," he finished with a sharp kick at the slave's leg.

When Hammond agreed to think about the purchase and left the barn, Aragorn had to force himself to follow. He had wanted to attack the overseer right then and there when he saw him so casually kick his brother. But the odds were too great against the rangers and he had restrained himself with effort. After a final look at the elf, he tore himself away and walked quickly after the others. What was he going to do? There was no way he'd have enough to pay to free his brother, but there was also no way he was going to let him remain a slave while he went back and got the funds from his family. Even with all the grime covering his brother, he'd seen the scrapes and bruises that covered his body and could only imagine what additional ones were hiding under his clothes. No...he couldn't leave him here for the months it would take to get home and then return with the necessary silver.

Aragorn heard the rest of the conversation between Hammond and Borgas without really listening. His mind was racing through possibilities. He would find some way to rescue his brother. Period. Failure was not an option. Hmmm...maybe he could come back in the middle of the night, slip into the barn, and free him. No...that wouldn't work. The place was too well guarded and besides, it didn't look like Elrohir, even if they could somehow get the chain off of him without alerting the guards, would follow Aragorn willingly. The look of hatred directed at his little brother was not one to inspire confidence in such a plan.

The determined ranger was distracted long enough from his thoughts to manage a polite goodbye and finally left the farm with Hammond. He kept silent as long as he could, until they were at last away from any prying ears and he turned to his leader.

"That was Elrohir! The elf...it was my brother!" said the agitated young man.

"So I guessed," answered an amused Hammond. Aragorn couldn't have been more obvious.

"What can I do, Hammond? I cannot leave him there. Yet we clearly haven't the resources to buy him legitimately. But...I cannot leave him there!" said the increasingly disturbed Aragorn.

"Easy, lad," admonished Hammond. "I didn't say we would leave him. We'll talk to the others tonight and discuss what can be done."

He paused a moment before continuing, "Uh...Aragorn...there's something that needs to be clear, though."

Aragorn looked at Hammond warily. If he was going to say that they might not be able to rescue Elrohir....

The older ranger continued, "Your brother...well, I did notice that he didn't exactly seem overjoyed to see you. Once we get him out of there, and I promise you we will find a way, you must be prepared to face the fact that something is terribly wrong with him."

Was that all? Aragorn smiled in relief, "Aye, Hammond, I certainly realized that. He is so changed that I didn't even recognize him at first. Something clearly has happened to him. But my father is the greatest healer in Middle Earth. If anyone can help Elrohir, it would be him. All I have to do now is to get him home."

The two rangers walked the rest of the way back to the village in companionable silence. Both were trying to come up with ways to come up with enough money to free Elrohir, but both were having equally poor luck in thinking of a solution.

That night at the inn, the entire group was having no easier a time in coming up with rescue plans. Ideas were discussed and dropped, one by one, until finally Aragorn went up to his room just to escape the frustration. Then, as he sat on his bed staring unseeing at his pack, a solution came to him suddenly. One that was so simple, that he was amazed that he hadn't seen it earlier. Smiling in relief, he allowed himself to fall asleep so that he could slip out early to go back and collect his brother!

Well before first light, Aragorn got dressed and silently slipped out of the inn. He made sure not to wake any of his companions. He didn't know what they would say about his solution, and he wasn't about to take the chance that they would try to dissuade him. Avoiding the town sentries and the night watchmen, he made his way out of the village and arrived at the farm just at the sun peeked over the mountain.

He was brought inside the house by a couple of the guards, who presented him to Borgas and then left them alone. Borgas was just sitting down to breakfast, and motioned for Aragorn to join him.

"Didn't expect you quite so early, lad. You must have an interesting offer for me to arrive at this hour and without your father," said the overseer wryly.

"Aye," said Aragorn, a bit hesitantly. Now that he was about to put his decision into motion, he paused. Not because he was changing his mind, but because he was afraid that even this wouldn't work and he'd be unable to free his brother. Anxious to see it through, however, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He handed it over to Borgas without further word.

The burly man opened the pouch and dropped its contents into his hand and involuntarily gasped. It was a stunning cloak clasp, made of mithral and clearly priceless.

"I haven't enough silver pieces, but would you take this for the elf?" asked Aragorn.

The overseer was a contrast of characters--true, he was violent and brutal in some circumstances, but he lived according to a certain code and found himself unable to simply accept the young man's offer. He hadn't been above making some extra money for his lord by using the young man's desire for the elf to squeeze out some more silver. However, he had to protest in all fairness to the offer of the mithral pin. It could have easily paid for dozens of slaves.

"Lad," stated Borgas once he found his breath. "Indeed you've brought me an interesting offer, but I need to make sure you know what you're giving up. This brooch here, I'm forced to say, is far more valuable than the slave. Are you certain you wish to trade?"

Aragorn relaxed a bit. If the overseer hadn't been interested in the clasp, he'd have said so up front. If his only objections were that the trade wouldn't be fair, he'd just have to convince him that he would be content with his part of the bargain.

"I thank you for your concern, but I've decided that I wish to purchase the elven slave, even if the cost is dear. And while I cannot give you the price you named in silver, I believe that this offer would satisfy both our needs. To me, the elf is of far more value than the brooch," Aragorn stated truthfully.

"Would your father agree?" Borgas continued. While he was a strong man himself, he had no wish to battle the lad's tough-looking father.

Aragorn smiled, "No worries there. The clasp is mine to do with as I wish. And…I wish to trade it for the elf. Do we have a bargain?"

With one more look at the jewel in his hands, Borgas nodded. He knew that Lord Hebert would be quite satisfied to have the lovely brooch in exchange for the hard-working, although often difficult, slave. "We have a deal," he said, reaching over to the young man to shake hands.

Aragorn sat impatiently as Borgas finished his breakfast. The overseer had offered him a plate as well, but he just didn't have an appetite, so anxious he was to once more see his brother. In short order the meal was ended, and the two made their way back to the slave quarters.

There were many more slaves in the barn than the previous day. It was still quite early and most of them hadn't yet left for their daily tasks. Aragorn didn't take note of them, however. He didn't even notice the stench or the suffocating air this time. All he was conscious of was the stall at the end of the second row. The one that held his brother.

Borgas shook his head at the lad's single-minded focus on the elf. Finally putting aside any feelings of guilt for the unequal trade, he decided to amuse himself at the expense of the young man. "So, lad, what is it about this one that's captured your eye? I don't go in for those pursuits myself, but I can see how this one would interest you. Ha! I've seen his stamina as a worker--I suppose it could be useful fulfilling in other...'duties' as well."

Aragorn bit off any response. He briefly considered decking the man and shutting him up, but decided that was a bad idea...he didn't want to give the man any excuse for backing out of the deal. However he wished the lout would keep his mouth shut! They were now standing in front of Elrohir and he didn't want his brother to get the wrong idea about his intentions before he could reassure him.

The boorish man continued, however. "Aye," he said as he looked at the elf consideringly. "I suppose cleaned up he'd be right fair. You're going to have a time with him, though, lad. Like I warned you yesterday, this one is skittish about being touched."

Aragorn was watching Elrohir as the man talked. The elf had been wide awake when they approached and was now glaring at them both with renewed hatred. Desperate to distract his brother from the overseer's words, Aragorn spoke to him kindly, "Hello, Dan. I am pleased to see you again. I have just arranged to...uh...take you away from here and would like you to accompany me now. Do you understand?"

The elf's expression, if anything, became even more hostile. He said nothing, however.

"I will not hurt you, I promise," said Aragorn earnestly, willing Elrohir to understand that he was trying to free him. "Will you let me unlock the chain?"

"Don't bother trying to get him to say anything," said Borgas, surprising Aragorn who had honestly forgotten his presence for a moment. "Hasn't said a word since he got here. The men who sold him to us said the only thing they'd heard him say was 'Dan,' so that's what they called him. Figured that must be his name--at any rate he answers to it."

Not allowing this latest bit of distressing news disturb him, Aragorn concentrated on figuring out how to get his brother out of the stall without alarming him unnecessarily. From the hostility radiating from the elf, it was clear that he was not taking the news of his sale to Aragorn as a good thing. He slowly approached him, but then stopped when Elrohir scrambled to his feet and pressed back against the wall. Slowly moving forward again, he once more stopped when the elf tried to run past him, only to be stopped short by the ankle cuff binding him to the wall. His brother fell on his hands and knees, and then once more sprang to his feet, warily regarding the approaching human. Aragorn didn't quite know what to do next...this wasn't going well!

Borgas snorted and before Aragorn knew what he was doing or could even think to stop him, the strong overseer had moved passed him, shoved Elrohir to the ground, and pinned him there with a knee to his back. Roughly lashing his hands behind his back with some stout leather laces, he turned to the astonished Aragorn and said, "This is the only way to do it, boy. He won't abide being touched, so you just have to force him. Now, while I've got him pinned, you unlock the chain. He tossed a key to Aragorn, who quickly went forward to comply.

Keeping a wary eye on the elf who was desperately trying to get up, he knelt down and grabbed his right foot. The affect was instantaneous! The elf kicked out violently, catching Aragorn in the knee. He ended up on his backside on the floor...something that did not set well with the young ranger. Hissing in annoyance, he got up again and this time simply sat on Elrohir's legs while he unlocked the metal cuff. That task completed, he nodded at Borgas, who had continued to pin Elrohir down with his knee the whole time. The two of them got up at the same time and stepped back as the elf twisted onto his back and then sprang once more to his feet. He was breathing raggedly as he faced the pair and as Aragorn saw the wild expression the elf was sporting, he found himself glad that his brother's hands were still tied.

Borgas looked at the young man and his newly acquired slave and rolled his eyes. He was beginning to think that the youngster was in way over his head and had no idea of how to handle the unruly elf. He hoped the lad wasn't regretting his purchase, but then was surprised when the young man grabbed a rope that was hanging on the wall of the stall and expertly made a loop. Casually, he twirled it in the air and it fell neatly over the elf's head. A quick tug tightened it around his neck, to the surprise of both Borgas and Elrohir. It wasn't tight enough to choke the elf, but just enough that it would give Aragorn control if there were any difficulties.

Aragorn turned to Borgas with a wry grin. "Would you mind including this rope in our agreement?" he asked. "I think I'll need this in order to bring him home."

"It's yours," answered the amused overseer. Maybe the lad would be able to have his fun with the elf after all.

Borgas was surprised again when the young man made another request, "Could I speak to him alone, for a moment, please?"

*Couldn't wait to get his hands on the elf, huh,* thought the overseer with a snort, but for once he didn't voice his thoughts out loud and with a nod, left them alone.

Aragorn approached his brother slowly. The elf was clearly upset from being manhandled earlier and from having a noose around his neck. He didn't want to spook him any farther.

Elrohir tried to back away, but found that the rope around his neck kept him from getting too far. Unwilling to choke himself, he had to let the human come far closer than he liked.

Speaking quickly and softly so no one else would hear, Aragorn addressed his brother, "Don't be afraid. I meant what I said earlier. I'm not going to hurt you." He looked around to ensure no one else could hear and then continued, "I don't want Borgas to know, but I'm not buying you to keep you as a slave...I'm going to set you free. Do you not remember me? I'm your brother, Estel. And your name is Elrohir. Do you remember?"

When the distrust and hatred in his brother's eyes didn't lessen, Aragorn kept talking, "I don't know how you came to be here, but I assure you I would have come earlier if I'd known you were here. And Elladan, surely you remember him? He would have been here as well. He's never stopped looking for you, you know. Not for one minute! Please come with me and we will find him. I promise. Just trust me!"

The young elf didn't know what to think. What was this human saying? Who was this Elladan? And who was Elrohir or Estel for that matter? His thoughts floated as always--one minute clear and then the next hazy. Well, he did know that trusting men was never a good idea, so with that one thought fixed in his mind, he pulled away as far as he could without completely strangling himself.

Aragorn sighed. Would nothing get through to the elf? He was startled when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He spun around, only to see that it was just Borgas, returning.

"Well, ye've bought yourself a fine slave, boy," he said. "I have to say I'll miss his strong back, but I won't miss his violent temper too much. Heh, heh. You sure you can handle him?" smirked the overseer. He laughed as he pictured the young man trying to have his way with this particular hellion. His private little talk had obviously not made things any easier between the two.

"I will cope, thank you," answered Aragorn with as much dignity as he could manage.

He pulled gently on the rope around Elrohir's neck and softly urged, "Come along, Dan. Let us leave this place.”

Elrohir, however, had other ideas. Glaring at his new "master," the stubborn elf decided he wasn't going to go. He didn't believe for one minute that he was his brother--after all, he was an elf and the young man was...well, a young man--and he was sure that he didn't want to find out just what this lying human wanted him for. Especially since he'd heard what 'duties' the overseer was implying that his new master had in store for him. He'd take long hours, scant food, and beatings any day before he'd submit to that! He hated where he was, but in a bizarre sort of way, it was safe compared to what awaited him with this human. As he pulled back on the ropes, he shook his head in frustration. He was getting that dizzy feeling again that always came when he tried to think for himself. It was only with determination that he managed to keep a clear enough head to fight against the man trying to pull him into unknown peril.

The tug of war finally ended when the rope slipped through Aragorn's hands and both he and Elrohir ended up on the ground.

Loud guffaws from the overseer caused Aragorn to clench his fists in anger. Standing back up, he once more grabbed the rope and said, more forcefully this time, "Let's go. Now."

But his brother still had other ideas. Instead of pulling, however, he simply stayed on the ground, forcing Aragorn to grind his teeth in frustration as he once more ended up falling in the dirt on his backside. How was he going to get Elrohir out of here without choking the foolish elf?!

The overseer, still laughing, unexpectedly came to his aid. Before Aragorn knew what was happening, the brawny man trapped Elrohir in a headlock and forced something into his mouth. Within seconds, Elrohir stopped fighting and the overseer released him with relish.

"I should've done this earlier, but I have to say I was enjoying the show," he said with a grin. "Guess you'll need this to control him," continued the overseer, throwing a pouch to Aragorn.

Aragorn caught the small bag and peered inside, smelling a potent mixture of herbs. "What is it?" he asked, noting with some alarm that Elrohir hadn't moved any further. He was just sitting with a blank expression on his face.

"Don't rightly know--we got it from the men who sold him to us. They said that it made him behave and they weren't lying. It wears off after awhile, but it surely has come in handy when the elf gets too violent. Keeps him harmless and respectful, as you can see," he added, gesturing to the now-calm elf. "Still won't tolerate being touched, mind you, but his reactions are real slow the first few weeks. Gives you a chance to train him for his new...'duties'...if you know what I mean."

*The first few weeks!* thought Aragorn. "How long does it take to wear off?" he asked, ignoring once again the boorish man's implications. He was thankful that he wouldn't be fighting Elrohir to get him out of there, but mostly he felt outrage that he'd let his brother be drugged right in front of him!

"Depends," was the unhelpful answer. "As little as three months and as many as six. That's the longest we've gone before giving him more. Ah...don't worry. He was due some more anyway. It's been awhile and besides, he always needs it after a beating. Tends to get real feisty after 'em."

Aragorn suddenly felt sick. Was that why his brother was acting so strangely? Because he'd already been drugged? But now he'd been given a fresh dose and wouldn't free for...what did the man say? Three months? Maybe six?! And how many times had Elrohir been beaten? He knew it was a reality of slavery, but somehow to hear the overseer casually talk about beating his brother made him ill. Feeling out of his depth, he struggled for something to say. Finally, he decided he just wanted to get out of there.

"Well, thank you for your help," Aragorn murmured. Tucking the bag into his pouch, he nodded a goodbye to the overseer, afterwards ignoring him completely as the offensive man backed off after a final leer and an "Enjoy yourself!"

Aragorn walked over to Elrohir. Feeling the overwhelming need to just get out of there, Aragorn picked up the rope tying his brother once more and said quietly, "Let's go, Elrohir," forgetting in his distress to hide his brother's real name. He needn't have worried, though. The overseer was content with the payment he'd received for the elf, and was honestly glad to see the last of the troublesome slave. He could care less what the young man called his new pet. And as for Elrohir, he was lost in a drug-induced world of confusion and didn't even register his new name as he followed his new master complacently.

Aragorn met Hammond and the other rangers just on the outskirts of the farm. They had obviously followed him as soon as they'd awoken and found the young man missing. He noted that they all seemed a bit angry with him, but decided that he had enough to worry about to be too concerned that he'd upset his companions. Aragorn looked back at Elrohir, still connected to him by the rope around his neck. He'd eventually undo it, but wanted to be sure the elf wouldn't take off the moment he untied him. He sighed...he knew his fellow rangers would be wanting answers, and soon.

"Well, lad, I see you were successful, but I'd interested in finding out just how you pulled it off," said Hammond a bit tightly. He didn't like the idea of his rangers slipping off in the middle of the night without telling him what they were doing. When he'd seen the empty bed this morning, he'd feared the young man had done something foolish and had gone to take his brother away by force--something that could easily have gotten him killed. Although he was greatly relieved to see the young ranger still intact, he wanted answers as to why he'd gone off on his own.

"I did what I had to do, Hammond. I had to get my brother out of there," Aragorn said a trifle defiantly.

"And just how did you do that? What did you promise in exchange?" continued Hammond.

"Speak clearly, young ranger. What did you bargain away for the elf?" asked Hammond, clearing becoming more irritated.

"It is not your concern. I have not harmed our mission," Aragorn answered, even more belligerently.

"Aragorn, I expect my men to answer when asked a question. If you wish to remain one of my men..." warned the increasingly annoyed ranger.

"My cloak pin, if you must know," the young ranger finally confessed a bit angrily. "Why do you care?!"

"Aragorn..." broke in Tolan, warningly. He liked the spunk of the young man a lot, but there was no reason for his current attitude.

Aragorn turned from Hammond and looked at his friend. "Bull, I don't mean to be short tempered. It's just that...I had to get him out of there and I wasn't sure that you all would approve of my choice. But it was my choice," he explained with a tight jaw.

Hammond spoke in response, "No need to ruffle your feathers at us, young rooster! No one said anything about you leaving your brother there. I am simply not pleased that you chose to do it alone. When you're part of a team, we work as a team and you need to let us know when you have a plan. How else can we help you?" he finished a bit softer.

Aragorn looked down in chagrin. No...he probably shouldn't have gone off alone. He really hadn't been thinking clearly from the first moment that Hammond had mentioned seeing an elf.

"I apologize," he said to his leader. Then he looked at the rest of the group, "I apologize to all of you. I...I just could not leave him there. You saw what it was like," he added, looking at Hammond and Tolan. He continued, "And I thought that you might try to stop me from offering my pin. I do realize its value. But...you must know that Elrohir is worth far more to me. I didn't want you telling me it was a foolish choice. But I am sorry that I worried you," he finished.

Tolan put his hand on Aragorn's shoulder and the young man was pleased to see the irritation fade from the rest of the group. He really hadn't meant to get them all angry.

"Alright, lad," said Hammond. "I do understand...but don't go off on your own like that again, huh? Now, how about we get this brother of yours back to the inn and figure out what we're going to do with him."

The five rangers and one scruffy elven slave made their way back to the inn. Knowing that the rest of the rangers would help track down Elrohir if he tried to escape, Aragorn finally removed the rope from around his neck and also untied his hands, carefully avoiding touching him. There were no problems with the elf, however. The drugs worked exactly as advertised and he remained compliant and obedient. The only minor problem occurred when Ben, who hadn't heard the warning not to touch the elf, tapped him on the shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. He only meant to be friendly and ask him a question, but the elf had exploded into action and before the unsuspecting ranger knew what was happening, he found himself flat on his back, looking into the eyes of a very wild-looking elf.

Fortunately for all concerned, before the other rangers had a chance to attack Elrohir and rescue their companion, the elf backed off from Ben and once more stood quietly. Ben cautiously got up and brushed himself off. He hadn't been hurt...really only surprised. The rangers regarded Elrohir a bit warily, but he once again had an unfocused look and did their bidding without problem. Still, it had been made perfectly clear that the elf was not to be touched! With this new rule firmly established, the rangers set off for the village again and the rest of the trip to the inn passed without incident.

The next little obstacle came after the rangers had safely managed to get Elrohir to the inn. It was lunchtime and everyone was ready for the noon-day meal, but were uncertain about what to do with the elf. There were no social taboos against having a slave in the inn or eating with them, but they didn't know how he would react to the close, cramped room. It was easy to imagine someone brushing up against him accidentally and setting off an unwanted brawl. After a short debate, Aragorn arranged to bring his meal along with Elrohir's up to their room while the rest of the rangers ate below.

Alone at last in the large room the rangers shared, Aragorn finally allowed himself to fully appreciate that he had rescued his brother. Smiling at the elf sitting on a chair as he'd been directed, Aragorn set the food out on the room's small table. Next, he looked around the room, finally spying what he was searching for--a large pitcher of water sitting next to a chipped earthenware basin. He poured some water into the basin and washed his face and hands, feeling quite refreshed by the cool water.

"Elrohir, would you like to come wash up?" he asked, looking forward to seeing his brother's face finally without all that grime, but the elf didn't make a move toward the water.

Surprised, the ranger tried ordering him, "Elrohir, come wash your face and hands before we eat."

When there was still no response, the mildly annoyed young man grabbed a towel, wet it, and walked over to where Elrohir sat without expression. "Very well. Just hold still while I get some of this grime off of you," he said patiently.

At the first touch, however, the dazed look left the elf's eyes and he jerked away while at the same time knocking Aragorn to the floor. The suddenness of the attack surprised the ranger and he cursed as he got to his feet. So...the overseer wasn't exaggerating about him not liking being touched. Even when he was warned, the elf reacted badly.

"Ro, would you just wash up?" asked the exasperated young man as he got up off the floor. "You're filthy!"

The elf picked up the towel from where it had fallen, but instead of using it, calmly folded it back up and laid it near the basin. Obviously, he had no intention of using it at all.

At least temporarily admitting defeat, Aragorn grumbled, "Well, if you can be comfortable under all that dirt, I will just have to accept it for now. Come eat."

So saying, the ranger sat down and Elrohir, once again compliant, joined him for their first meal together in years.

The rest of the day fortunately passed without incident. Elrohir was kept in the rangers' room and after the group had eaten lunch, they had joined Aragorn up in the room to discuss plans.

After much debate, Aragorn finally announced, "I wish to take him home." It was evening now, and he had been thinking all day about what to do, but he had finally decided he had to go home. First of all, he needed to see if his father could cure whatever had made Elrohir act so strangely, but more than that, he knew that his family would never forgive him if he didn't bring back his brother as soon as possible. He fretted a bit because he knew that the rangers still had a mission to complete, but he hoped that Hammond would understand his responsibility to his family as well.

Hammond nodded at the young ranger's words. He'd expected the request and had already decided that Aragorn should take his brother back to Rivendell. "Aye, lad, he needs to be with his family," he said, smiling at the profound relief the young man displayed at his words.

"Do you think you can handle him?" Tolan asked. The elf was a confusing mixture of docility and savage violence. Although Aragorn was a strong young man, the elf would surely be able to overcome him if he was allowed to get the upper hand.

Aragorn reflected for a moment. It was true that Elrohir had been quite violent at times, but it was never unprovoked. If he simply kept his distance from the skittish elf, he'd be able to keep them both safe for the time being. And besides, Elladan was somewhere in the near vicinity. He'd been following a lead just to the south of where Aragorn and the rangers were headed. If Aragorn could get him a message, he knew that his older brother would be there to help in no time.

He stayed with the rangers for couple more days as he made arrangements to head home. With the great distance they'd have to travel, it would take several months before they reached Rivendell and he needed to be prepared. He purchased some provisions for the barren countryside they'd have to cross at the start of their trip, replenished his healing kit, and also made arrangements to have a message sent to Elladan. He debated what to say in the message, but finally settled for a simple request for his brother to come help him with something, keeping the "something" a secret for now. Then, three days after he had freed Elrohir, the two left the village and started the long journey home.

Aragorn began the journey home with the confidence that only youth can truly know. Astute enough to expect a few setbacks, he was still full of hope and expectation as he and Elrohir left the rangers and turned toward home.

The first few weeks of their journey seemed to reward that hope as they passed uneventfully. It was easy going as Elrohir was still fully under the spell of the drugs and readily obeyed his brother’s gentle commands. The miles quickly passed beneath their feet as the brothers made their way through the desolate countryside. Throughout their journey, Aragorn would engage in light-hearted, one-way conversations, watching his brother to see if there was any spark of response in the dull, unfocused eyes. A couple of times he thought there might be a flicker, and that was enough to encourage him to continue his tales of their family and life in Imladris.

No, the first few weeks had been so peaceful, that Aragorn was lulled into a false sense of security and was unprepared for the beginning of real trouble. It came after they’d finally left the barren wastelands and entered a deep, cool forest. It was only mid-afternoon when they came to their first stream, but Aragorn dropped his packs and said unexpectedly, “We will stop here for the day. Set your packs down.”

Elrohir promptly obeyed and dropped his packs, then waited patiently to be told his next task.

Aragorn looked at the deep pools along the edge of the swift-moving stream. It was perfect! With satisfaction, he regarded his brother. Truth be told, Elrohir was...well...ripe...and he was in dire need of a good scrubbing!

The young ranger grinned over at his brother, “Alright, big brother. We shall take this opportunity to give you a long overdue bath. Come here.”

There was still no warning of the impending trouble as Elrohir walked over to his brother. Aragorn knelt down and rummaged through his pack, pulling out a couple of bars of soap that he’d had stashed in the bottom. They weren’t always able to get clean while on the trail, but he was ready for the chance when it was presented.

Handing one of the bars over to his brother, careful of course not to touch him, he said, “Follow me,” as he walked over to one of the pools. Elrohir followed behind, but then stood there watching as Aragorn began to untie his own tunic.

Pausing when he noted that Elrohir wasn’t moving, Aragorn patiently gave his brother further instructions, “Come, Elrohir, you must get out of those filthy clothes.”

He went back to untying the laces of his tunic and once he’d pulled it over his head, he noted that Elrohir still hadn’t moved. Starting to get exasperated, he tried once more, “Elrohir, remove your clothes! You cannot have become bashful!”

As he started to untuck his undertunic, he saw that Elrohir still wasn’t moving. His brother seemed...well...alarmed was the only thing that Aragorn could call it. He snorted inelegantly as he thought of how much this disgustingly dirty creature differed from the perfectly groomed elf that was his brother. He was afraid of a bath!

“Ro, don’t be ridiculous,” said Aragorn, starting now to become amused. “The water’s not that cold and you’ll feel much better afterward, I promise.” ‘And be much better company,’ he added to himself, smiling. “Now, take...off...your...tunic,” he said, ensuring that there was no misunderstanding what he expected.

Aragorn’s smile faded as his brother backed away, looking more alarmed than before and making absolutely no move to do as he was told. Weeks of dealing with a compliant brother had made Aragorn forget the cardinal rule of dealing with him. Without thought, he grabbed Elrohir’s arm, intending to stop his retreat and help him remove his tunic.

It was a mistake. Where there had just been a docile, though alarmed elf, there now was a vicious whirlwind as Elrohir twisted violently away from his brother and roughly shoved him to the ground before turning and running down the forest path.

Only a moment passed between when Aragorn was knocked down and when he leapt up, giving chase to his brother. Elrohir may have had the initial advantage since he had a head start, but his flight was only a mindless escape with no clear direction except ‘away.’ Aragorn, on the other hand, had been trained by both the elves of Imladris as well as the rangers in tactics to be used to take down prey and he was easily able to spot a shortcut that would bring him out ahead of the fleeing elf.

Elrohir didn’t even see his brother on the path ahead of him as he ran headlong into the human, knocking the two of them into a tangled heap on the ground. Without even waiting to get to his feet, Elrohir began to punch and kick at the human, desperate to get away. Stunned by the strengths of the blows, Aragorn still held back at first, not wanting to hurt his brother, but after receiving a brutal blow that made his head ring, he realized that Elrohir wasn’t pulling his punches and seemed perfectly willing to pummel him into dust! His brother was clearly as strong as ever and Aragorn grimly decided that he’d have to fight using all the tricks he knew to subdue the powerful elf.

Even after that decision, however, Aragorn still had trouble trying to control his brother. Elrohir may not remember his life as an elven warrior, but centuries of training obviously had conditioned his body to respond to attacks with fierce precision. Aragorn’s one saving grace was that this was, after all, Elrohir, a brother with whom he’d trained innumerable times. He knew many of the elf’s tricks even before he used them, and thus was able to find the opening he was looking for. When Elrohir grabbed him by the wrist and turned to throw him over his back, his brother instantly recognized the move and used the countermove that Elrohir himself had taught him. Rolling into his brother rather than away from him, he was able to throw Elrohir off balance and landed on top of him, an elbow to the stomach knocking his breath away for just long enough to finish him off with a firm uppercut to the jaw. Elrohir’s head snapped back and then he lay limp on the ground, his little brother breathing hard as he carefully climbed off the unconscious elf.

“Well, that was fun!” he said wryly as he slowly got to his feet. “Now what do I do with you?” he asked to no one in particular, his brother certainly not able to hear him.

Aragorn looked at Elrohir as he rubbed a very sore jaw. ‘At any rate,’ he reflected, ‘no doubt your jaw will hurt worse than mine.’ It was little comfort, though, as he tried to decide what to do next. What would happen when Elrohir awoke? Would he still be upset? Would he try to escape? Would he attack? Aragorn didn’t want to tie up his brother--it would certainly not help out in his attempt to gain the elf’s trust. However, he also knew that with a little more luck, Elrohir would have been able to escape from him today. And while in the past his brother would have been more than capable of taking care of himself, Aragorn was not about to let the confused elf wander off on his own in unknown territory.

The young ranger grimaced as he rolled his shoulders and twisted his back...he’d have some glorious bruises from that little wrestling match with his brother. By tomorrow he’d be feeling every one of them, too. An unexpected thought suddenly put him in a good mood as he looked at Elrohir, still slumped on the ground. Even hampered by drugs, Elrohir was clearly a powerful adversary and was capable of doing a lot of damage to his opponent. Reflecting on this, the young man was able to appreciate how just careful his brothers must had been during all their training matches to teach him to fight such an adversary without themselves hurting him.

“Alright, big brother,” said the ranger, with obvious affection, “We should return to the camp where we can decide where to go from here.”

Suiting actions to words, he carefully slung his brother over his shoulders, wincing just a bit as the weight pressed down on his new bruises, and started back toward the little clearing by the stream.

During the slow hike back, he decided that he wouldn’t tie up his brother or in any other way restrain him. He’d just be more careful in the future and hope that Elrohir could, in time, come to trust him.

They eventually made it back to the camp and Aragorn gently laid his brother down on the ground. Seeing that Elrohir was still fully unconscious, Aragorn went to the stream and quickly washed up. He was going to give up on the idea of getting the elf clean, but after all, there was no reason for him to stay dirty. He kept an eye on the recumbent form of his brother the whole while, however, making sure that he didn’t awaken and take off again.

By the time his brother stirred, Aragorn had finished his bath and was completing the preparations for their evening meal. Typically, the elf made no sound to indicate that he was awake. The first sign that Aragorn had that his brother had regained consciousness was when he glanced over and saw two eyes looking back at him.

Careful to make no startling moves, he said quietly, “Glad to have you back. Are you well?”

Aragorn looked closely at Elrohir, keeping his outward posture calm, but ready to spring into action if his brother looked ready to bolt. The look he got back reassured him that Elrohir, at least for the moment, wasn’t planning on running. The eyes didn’t show that unglazed confusion that would have indicated he was in one of those drug-induced hazes, but the look he got was one of cautious appraisal rather than hostility or fear.

Keeping his voice calm and low, Aragorn said, “If you are feeling well enough, I have some food ready. Come over and join me if you’re hungry.”

He was gratified when his brother slowly pulled himself up and, after pausing just a moment to keep his head from spinning, came over and sat down next to him.

The ranger handed his brother a plate that he’d just prepared. It had held a rather unappetizing mixture of trail foods, but they hadn’t had any chance yet to hunt in the forest and all they had were some of the supplies Aragorn had been carrying with him. Elrohir took it without complaint, however, and slowly cleared his plate. The younger brother had to keep from grinning as he saw how carefully Elrohir chewed each morsel. It was obvious that the last blow had made his jaw incredibly tender. As he felt his own aches and pains stabbing at him more with each minute, he couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction that he’d given as good as he’d got!

The next week was thankfully trouble-free as the brothers once again set off down the trail. A short hunting trip had provided them with much more appealing meals, and it seemed like things were looking up. Not only did the elf seem less dazed from the drugs, but day by day, Elrohir was losing more and more of his wariness around his brother. He still wouldn’t speak, but his eyes showed an acceptance of his companion, sometimes even to the point of friendliness.

It was thus that Aragorn was walking along the trail without expecting any kind of problem. True, Elrohir’s increasing clear-headedness had created a minor issue earlier in the day, but he thought the potential problem had been resolved. Three times that day he had turned around to find Elrohir not behind him, but off following another path. He had no way of knowing just why his brother had decided to leave the trail, but before he let it annoy him too much, he’d finally given up trying to make him follow and decided instead to use the path that Elrohir seemed to prefer. It was headed in the same general direction, so it wasn’t a great problem.

No, the little deviation on the trail wasn’t the issue. The real problem came when Aragorn decided it was time to make camp for the day and called ahead for Elrohir to stop. The obstinate elf didn’t even slow down. Ignoring his brother’s commands completely, Elrohir continued his way up the path without pause. Several more calls had no effect. It took Aragorn actually running ahead and jumping on the path in front of him to make him stop--a move which was clearly against Elrohir’s plans, for he slipped past his brother and continued down the path. Annoyed and starting to get angry, Aragorn tried once more to stop his brother by getting out in front of him and standing in his path. He crouched down, ready to tackle his brother if necessary--this time Elrohir wouldn’t get past him! When the elf saw his path firmly blocked, however, he simply frowned at his little brother before springing into the trees and continuing in the same direction as before.

With an oath, the young ranger raced through the forest and one last time cut in front of his brother. He was ready this time, though. As he’d run, he speedily assessed and discarded all options but one that promised to take down his brother with as little injury as possible. Lying in wait, he sprang up as the elf approached and then, with the consummate skill learned as a little boy, he knocked his brother out of the trees by hitting his ankle with a perfectly-aimed fist-sized rock. Elrohir fell to the ground with a crash, but was on his feet almost immediately. Aragorn had planned for this, however, and before the elf could attack or run, the ranger dropped a rope around his shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides. The elf struggled in vain for a short while, but when he saw it would have no effect, he stopped and waited quietly as his brother warily approached him.

Aragorn was careful not to touch Elrohir...he did not want to get into another fight with him...as he moved in closer. With a glare of his own for his troublesome brother, he said, “Now, we are going to do things my way. First, we shall go back to that nice area where I wished to stop, and then we will camp for the night. You’re to come with me just the way you are, and after a time, if you behave, I shall let you loose, understand?”

The two brothers stood about two feet apart as the younger waited for some kind of response. Getting none, he shook his head in disgust and grumbled, “Just once, a nod would be nice, you know!” With still no response, he shook his head once more and with a short tug on the rope said, “Come!”

The short walk back to Aragorn’s chosen campsite wasn’t far and the two brothers made it without incident. Elrohir’s gait was not as graceful as usual, due to the rope continuing to pin his arms to his sides as well as a rather large knot that had swollen up on his ankle. Still, he made no complaint as he reluctantly followed his brother and then watched as the ranger set up their camp for the night.

An hour later, Aragorn was wondering what to do about dinner since he had still not let his brother loose. The elf had had a few of his usual periods of dazed incomprehension as the drugs worked their typical havoc, but during the in-between times he had been edgy, clearly unsettled and Aragorn thought he would bolt if given the chance. He just didn’t want to let the elf loose for dinner, only to find him using the opportunity to escape. And of course, he didn’t think that Elrohir would allow himself to be fed, either. Frustrated, the human was wondering just what was keeping his brother so jumpy when he heard a sound that brought his head up with a snap. Wolves! A large pack of them, too, from the sound of it, heading this way.

Cursing, he ran to untie his brother, cursing even louder when the anxious elf fought him. “That is what this was all about, wasn’t it? You knew about them! Could have warned me, you know!....Dammit, hold still! Stop it...I’m trying to help you but I can’t get these ropes off without touching you! Blast it, Elrohir, HOLD STILL!”

He struggled in vain to loosen his brother as his fine-tuned senses heard the wild pack getting closer. Finally, he was forced to give up as the first of the wolves rushed into their camp. The young man felt an uncommon bolt of fear as he swiftly pulled his sword and faced the large beast. Elrohir lay on the ground, trussed up and completely vulnerable and he wasn’t sure if he could protect him! Uncaring of his own danger, the determined ranger took up a position in front of his brother and faced the first predator.

The beast leapt at Aragorn with nary a pause and the ranger, with no time left to curse his fate, slashed out at the wild creature with a ferocious yell. The deadly dance that followed between him and the beast lasted only a few seconds as he slipped his sword through the wolf’s throat, spinning to slash at another one that raced into the fray. Aragorn would never completely remember the next several minutes. He worked on instinct alone as the fight became a blur of motion. Hampered by his need to keep between the attacking animals and Elrohir, he fought as if possessed while he took out the enemy, one by one.

Against the odds, Aragorn began to feel victory in sight when a snarl behind him warned him that one of the beasts had slipped around his guard. Turning his back on his remaining two attackers, he leapt forward just as the wolf pounced on the still-struggling elf. Aragorn, at the limit of his reach, stabbed at the creature as its jaws were descending down to crush Elrohir’s throat. It wasn’t a clean blow, though, and he had to follow it up with a final thrust through the chest. A wild look at his brother, who lay buried under the wolf, didn’t tell him if any of the flowing blood belonged to him, but that was all he had time for as he felt one of the remaining wolves pounce on his back and knock him flat!

The sword flew from his hands as he hit the ground, landing just outside his reach. Without even trying to retrieve it, he reached down and pulled a short dagger from his boot, raking it across the wolf’s face in one seamless motion. The wounded animal pulled back, snarling in pain, but then came at him again, more angry and vicious than ever. Scrambling to regain his feet, Aragorn kept the wounded beast in his sights while he also ensured that the other wolf hadn’t crept around behind him. He feinted a couple of times, managing to score a couple more strikes against the wounded wolf while a worried glance noted that the last beast was circling around to his brother. Determined to save Elrohir at all costs, he made a quick decision and unerringly flung his dagger at the stalking wolf. Aragorn had but brief moments to be grateful as he saw the beast fall just short of Elrohir, but throwing the dagger had left Aragorn weaponless and he faced the final wolf bare-handed.

The wolf was preparing to spring when Aragorn yelled at the top of his lungs and dove to the ground. The beast leapt at the downed man, but instantly found himself impaled on the upraised sword that Aragorn had pulled from the ground in his daring roll.

The beast fell limp. Dead. Then with a hiss, the blood-soaked ranger pulled himself out from under the heavy animal and withdrew his sword. He looked around the camp, ready to face any further danger, but instead the clearing was completely silent, with nine animals lying dead. Reaction set in as the adrenaline faded from his veins and he sunk wearily to the ground. It had been so close!

Aragorn sat with his head bowed and eyes closed, breathing deeply. Once he felt his energy return, he lurched to his feet and staggered over to Elrohir. A relieved smile broke over his face as he saw his brother struggling to get out from under the wolf. He wasn’t having much luck, as the rope pinning his arms had somehow become impossibly tangled around him and the wolf carcass.

“Be still,” said Aragorn, so grateful to see that his brother was okay. “Let me help.”

Heaving the dead animal off of his brother, he bent down to untangle the ropes...and was caught completely off-guard when his brother shoved out violently with both feet and kicked the ranger in the stomach, knocking him backward onto the ground.

OW!! His head hit the ground with a whack! Now winded and sporting a raging headache, the young man’s emotions consumed him.

Enough was enough! Aragorn had just fought off nine wolves, earned a whole series of new scratches and gouges in the process, had undoubtedly saved his brother’s life, and now the wretched elf was kicking him?!! He got to his feet and stormed back to his brother’s side, the unwarranted attack infusing his body with rage.

“I have had it with you! I try to be patient, but you are impossible! I manage, against great odds, to save you but your only thanks is to kick me in the dirt! I should just leave you here!!!” screamed the enraged young man.

He walked away, desperately trying to calm himself. Exhausted, sore, and shaking with reaction, the young man struggled to control himself, but eventually failed in his attempt and he stomped back over to Elrohir.

“If that is how you wish it, fine! I will not touch you! You may lay there all night and let the ropes choke you for all I care! And now I plan to wash this blood off of me--all of which I received as I ensured none of the wolves got to you! And...if you’re not here when I come back...well...fine! Don’t expect me to come after you! I should have left you where I found you!” he shouted. He kicked at one of the wolves in his need to release some of the fury he felt and then turned his back on his brother without a second glance and stormed off to find the little stream he’d seen nearby.

It was unfortunate that he didn’t spare the time for a second glance, because he might have seen the sorrow, that just for a moment, his brother had been unable to keep from his face. A show of feelings, no matter how brief, would have been enough to show Aragorn that his brother was still in there somewhere and might have done much to help the hurting young man understand that Elrohir was facing demons of his own.

The elf hadn’t even been thinking when he’d kicked out at Aragorn. He was reacting to a terrifying vision in which reality mixed with nightmare. He’d felt the wolves nearby all day and had been trying to get far away from them, but his companion hadn’t understood when he tried to lead them away. Instead, he’d somehow angered the man and had ended up trapped and helpless as the wolves closed in, unable to do anything as the snarling beasts had first attacked Aragorn and then him. His mind’s way of drifting between truth and nightmare was made all the worse when they merged together in horrifying reality! When the last of the beasts had been killed, Elrohir had still been caught in the nightmare. His mind had been screaming at him to get the foul beast off of him and Aragorn had unfortunately been caught in his struggle before he’d even realized that the wolf was no longer on top of him.

None of this explanation was available to the young ranger, however, as he crashed through the brush to the stream. Oh, he could move with the silence of the elves when he wanted, but right now it felt good to stomp and make loud noises. He was so fed up! He couldn’t believe that, after saving his life, Elrohir had kicked him away! He angrily wiped a tear away from the edge of his eye. He would not cry! So what if he’d been scared to death for his brother’s life? So what if that same brother was showing him that he no longer cared for his little brother? He would not cry! He was a ranger now. Yes...a ranger who was simply escorting someone to the elves. From now on, that would be his mission.

He threw his pack to the ground and then yanked his blood-covered cloak off, grateful that it had spared most of his clothes from the terrible gore of the battle. He next ripped off his boots, flinging them against a nearby tree. The rest of his clothes came off a little more carefully. The wolves had come close enough to him to give him several nasty gashes and he moved a little more slowly as he peeled the cloth away from them. Wounded in body and spirit, the young man waded into the water and sucked his breath in as the cold water stung his wounds. He cleaned them up as much as he could and then climbed out of the stream, dried off, treated his cuts with soft bandages pulled from his pack, and finally put on a fresh set of clothes.

He had gone through all these motions without thinking, not allowing his mind to dwell on the scene he’d just had with his brother. Once he was done, however, and feeling much better physically, cool sanity flowed back in to him and he let his thoughts slide back to what was awaiting him in the clearing. He sat down on a fallen log and put his head in his hands. Oh no! He couldn’t believe he’d said those hate-filled words to Elrohir. He didn’t mean them. Oh, maybe he’d meant them at the time, but it was reaction speaking rather than his true feelings. He’d been so scared that he’d be unable to protect his brother from the wolves. And then Elrohir’s reaction had just...hurt.

Now what should he do? Not for the first time, he wished Elladan were there. As the thought crossed his mind, he gave a choked little laugh. For years he had wanted so desperately to prove he was grown up and resented the twins telling him what to do, but right now all he wanted was his big brother to come along and make things better, just like he’d done a thousand times before. Of course, in the past he’d had two big brothers to turn to for help, but for now Elrohir was the one needing him. Oh, Elrohir! The ranger sighed. Steeling himself for whatever was to come next, he packed up his belongings and trudged wearily back to the clearing where he’d left his brother.

Aragorn walked quietly back into the clearing, his initial reaction one of immense relief as he saw his brother still lying on the ground, hopelessly tangled in the rope. He had obviously been struggling, trying to free himself, for he was tangled even worse than before. In other circumstances, he would have found this endlessly amusing and would use this to tease Elrohir without mercy for weeks. Now, however, he stood there, unknowing how to fix things. If the elf didn’t let him touch him earlier, what would his reaction be now after the awful things he’d said? However, he had to touch his brother in order to get those ropes off. What should he do? He approached Elrohir cautiously and knelt next to him. Before he did anything else, he knew he had something to say.

“Elrohir,” he began quietly, “I’m very sorry for what I said. I was upset. That is no excuse, I know, but I truly did not mean those awful words. I love you, brother, and I am very glad you’re with me. I only wish to help. Please allow me.”

Elrohir looked at human. What was he saying now? The young elf tried to concentrate, but was finding it difficult at the moment. The scratches he’d received from the wolf would normally have helped him keep his mind focused, but there were too many conflicting thoughts and feelings flitting through his mind. Being knocked out of the tree while trying to lead his companion to safety. Laying helpless while wolves attacked. Aragorn standing between him and the wolves. Fangs inches from his face. The crushing weight of the dead wolf pinning him to the ground. Words of hate shouted at him. Endless aggravation as he tried to free himself from the strangling ropes. He closed his eyes, and turned away from the young man talking to him. The swirling images were making his head pound and he couldn’t process whatever the man was saying now. Probably that he should sell him to the next person they came across! He had slowly begun to like the young man and just couldn’t bear to hear what terrible things he would say next.

Aragorn sighed when Elrohir turned his back on him. What a mess he’d made of things! How was he going to ever gain Elrohir’s trust now, after the things he’d said? A lesser man may have given up in frustration, either giving Elrohir a dose of drugs or stopped even trying to reach the elf, but Aragorn was determined and decided that he’d do whatever was necessary to bridge the gap that he had just helped to widen.

He steeled himself for a violent reaction as he cautiously tapped Elrohir on the shoulder, “Elrohir, please look at me,” he said.

The expected reaction didn’t come, to Aragorn’s surprise. The elf tensed up, but didn’t try to struggle or strike out. Of course, the fact that he was trussed up tight enough to make him practically immobile may have had something to do with that, but Aragorn was still pleased that he didn’t have to deal with any kind of new resistance. However, he was disappointed that his brother also didn’t turn over or look at him again. Indeed, it seemed like the elf was simply going to ignore him.

Sighing, Aragorn tried again, “Elrohir, will you please look at me.” Still no response.

“If you won’t look at me, then at least you can listen to me,” he continued. “The first thing we need to do is get you loose. Now, I must use my knife to cut the ropes--they are far too tangled to get you out any other way. Please just lay still so I don’t cut you by mistake.”

Except for more tensing of his body, the elf still gave no other indication that he had even heard the ranger. Taking a chance that his brother would not start to fight him, Aragorn carefully started to cut through the first of the ropes. Making quick work of that, he went on to the next tangled heap and also quickly cut through it. He moved cautiously, trying not to brush up against his brother and set the elf off, but he continued to get no reaction as he moved on to the next rope--his brother simply lay stock-still on the ground while the ropes were removed, one by one.

When the last of the ropes were removed, Aragorn sat back and once more wished for Elladan to magically appear. Now what should he do? Elrohir was freed from the ropes, but hadn’t made a single move since he’d turned his back on him. With the carcasses of the wolves littering the clearing, they certainly couldn’t stay there for the night, but would Elrohir even follow if he suggested they leave? Would the elf run away the minute he realized he was freed? Oh what a mess!

Finally, Aragorn decided that he’d never find out the answers to his questions by just sitting there and the stalwart ranger got up and briskly said, “Elrohir, you are free of the ropes now. However, we need to be heading out of here. Before long, the forest predators will come, attracted by the smell the blood. You must get up now and follow me.”

Although his words were matter-of-fact and confident sounding, the young man peeked uncertainly at this brother from the corners of his eyes as he began to pack up his things. He allowed himself just a moment of relief as he saw Elrohir slowly roll over and get to his feet. The elf bent down and picked up his pack and waited for Aragorn’s next move. The ranger hoped for a moment that all was well and he’d been forgiven, but the look he saw in the elf’s eyes told him otherwise. Elrohir was wary, unsure. That cautious friendliness that had started to appear in Elrohir’s eyes was completely gone, replaced by distrust and...perhaps anger. It was clear from the fact that he was prepared to leave that he had understood the need be far away before the blood brought unwanted company, but it was also clear that the elf wasn’t yet ready to trust his companion again.

As the two of them walked away, Aragorn noted with surprise that Elrohir was limping. He winced as he remembered just why. He’d forgotten about knocking him out of the tree and was unhappy to see that Elrohir’s right ankle was black and blue and quite swollen. He sighed as he looked at his brother, knowing that the elf would not accept any kind of help in making the injured ankle feel better. He supposed he should be grateful that the healing powers of the elves would fix it up easily by the next day, but he felt guilty since he was the one that had inflicted the injury in the first place. Finally deciding to stop dwelling on it since out of his control, the young human continued down the path with the quiet elf following behind.

Several weeks later, Aragorn felt like beating his fists against a nearby tree. Elrohir was frustrating, stubborn, mulish, obstinate, ....arrrgh! They’d been traveling now for a total of six weeks and he was no closer to bridging the gap between the two of them. Nothing had improved since that wolf incident. In fact, things seemed to be getting steadily worse rather than better as the drugs continued to slowly wear off. Granted, he had made one little mistake in yelling at Elrohir--was he going to have to pay for it forever? That one stupid incident seemed to have set off a chain of little mini disasters. First Elrohir was distrustful, so he had run away when the opportunity presented itself. So...Aragorn, of course, had to track him down and capture him. So...that meant more fights and bruises. So...he had run away again. Several times, which meant more fights and bruises. So...that meant that Aragorn had finally been compelled to keep his brother tied at all times! And that obviously didn’t lead Elrohir to trust his brother. Sigh!!

During the day, the elf had to be pulled along by a rope that was tied around his hands and during the night, his feet had to be bound as well, or he’d simply run off as soon as Aragorn fell asleep. Elrohir made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of getting along with the human. Except when made compliant by the drugs, he moved when he was pulled along, he ate when food was put in front of him, and he slept when he was tied, hand and foot, at night. The quiet, friendly acceptance of before was gone and nothing the ranger said or did, not even in kindness, made any difference to the increasingly hostile elf...nothing!

This was not how he’d pictured his journey home with his brother. And where was Elladan? The older twin must have received his message by now and should have caught up with them ages ago. If he’d been here, maybe they could have avoided the latest scuffle when Elrohir had tried unsuccessfully to once again escape from Aragorn. Only dumb luck had allowed Aragorn to catch him when the rope trailing from his hands had become tangled in a root on the path.

Grumbling under his breath, he grabbed the end of the rope and with a quick tug, announced to his brother, “Come along. The sooner we get you home...”

The beastly overseer had been right, Aragorn reflected as the two brothers walked along the forest path. Maybe he did need the drugs to keep Elrohir under control until they got home. He had, after all, been painfully obedient for the first few weeks and had certainly been an easier traveling companion. But Aragorn just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give him another dose of the drugs. Somewhere beneath that hostile shell was Elrohir, and he’d put up with as many bruises and sleepless nights as need be to wait out the last of the drug’s effects and hopefully, at some point, see a glimpse of his adored older brother.

The young ranger sighed for the hundredth time at day as he looked over his shoulder at his brother following him quietly. From the unfocused, calm look in Elrohir’s eyes, the drugs obviously had the upper hand for the moment. He gratefully accepted the peace it gave him for the time being. He knew that without notice, the eyes would suddenly sharpen with intelligence, and then he’d have to be on his toes to see what the difficult elf would try. He was becoming increasingly clever in his escape attempts and Aragorn was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control him much longer without having to seriously hurt him. Where was Elladan, anyway?!!

He paused as he felt a tug on the rope. Elrohir had stopped, glancing sharply behind them down the forest path. Someone or something must have alerted his elven senses before Aragorn’s human ears could pick up anything.

“What is it?” Aragorn asked, not really expecting an answer. Then, praying that Elrohir would obey him this time, he whispered, “We must back up and wait quietly in the brush. Whatever is out there may be more than I can fight alone.”

Aragorn looked at Elrohir hoping to see relaxed compliance, but saw his brother’s jaw tighten as he turned his head away from the human. By the Valar! The blasted elf had done one of those mood switches and now he might alert whatever was out there just to be annoying. Arrghh!!! He didn’t have time for this! He looked around quickly for some way to secure his brother back in the trees while he scouted around. He couldn’t trust him alone, that was for certain. Just over a week ago he’d had to deal with a forest predator--that time a wild boar--and even with his hands tied, Elrohir had used the distraction to slip quietly away. It was two whole days of frustration and anguish before he found the twin, who had apparently fallen down a rocky hill and had twisted his knee. He didn’t enjoy seeing his brother hurt, but thanked the Valar anyways for his injury. Without it, the ranger may have never been able to find the clever elf. After that incident, however, he made sure that his brother was never left unsupervised unless he was firmly tied up somewhere.

He continued to pull Elrohir deeper into the bush, but their retreat was stopped by the wide stream that had skirted their path throughout the day. Afraid that Elrohir would make too much noise splashing through the water, Aragorn looked frantically about for something to do with him. Then, seeing a solution that would answer his needs, Aragorn pulled Elrohir to a tree and, with a short apology for rough treatment, quickly shoved him up against it, looped the rope around an overhead branch, and tied it off well out of Elrohir’s reach. He fleetingly considered gagging his brother as well, but then almost laughed at the thought. No, the obstinate elf hadn’t made a single sound the whole time they’d been together. Not once! If he opened his mouth now to alert whoever or whatever was out there, Aragorn would consider it a triumph just to have made him say something. He stepped back and looked at his handiwork, satisfied. Elrohir’s arms were tightly pulled above him--even on tiptoe he’d barely have any slack. Aragorn hated to manhandle his brother and certainly didn’t like leaving him so vulnerable or uncomfortable, but he didn’t have time to make any other arrangements that would keep Elrohir from running off while also leaving him free to deal with whatever danger awaited them.

Aragorn noiselessly slid his sword out, hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it, but still not hearing whatever had alerted Elrohir. He stealthily circled around back out to the path, moving without making a sound. Waiting for long minutes, he finally felt, rather than heard, someone approaching. Whoever, or whatever, was equally silent as they moved through the forest. Waiting....waiting...Aragorn held his breath as a tall figure on a horse at last appeared around the corner. The instant he was close enough to recognize, Aragorn couldn’t help his cry of relief, “Elladan!”

Elladan stopped as he heard the voice of his youngest brother call him. He had felt that there was someone or something in the nearby woods, so he hadn’t been surprised that there was someone in the forest with him. He was surprised, however, when his little brother burst through the bushes, dropped his sword, and enveloped him in a fierce hug as soon as he’d dismounted from his horse. He was just as glad to see his young brother, but the desperation of the hug was reminiscent of his greetings as a little boy rather than the proud young man he’d become.

“Oh, Elladan! I’m so glad you’re here!” said Aragorn, his voice catching with the emotion of finally having someone to help him.

“Little One!” responded an astonished Elladan, calling him by his long ago nickname in his surprise. “I set out as soon as I received your message, but it has not been easy finding you. What has happened to trouble you so?”

The young human still hadn’t let go of his oldest brother. He buried his head in his brother’s shoulder as he relished the feeling of holding someone he loved, something he’d been unable to do with Elrohir for the whole time they’d been together.

Elrohir! Aragorn pulled back from Elladan, trying to come up with the words to tell him what was awaiting him in the trees.

“Elladan, I...you...just, just sit while I tell you something,” he finally blurted out. “No!,” he contradicted himself, “better yet, come with me. I have something to show you.”

A very confused Elladan allowed his little brother to drag him through the brush and into a small clearing, where he was amazed to see someone leaning against a tree, practically hanging from his hands which were tied over his head to a high-up branch. The dark-haired man’s head was bowed, his hair covering his face. His appearance was that of a wild man. Snarled, matted hair, dirty and torn clothes, and filth covering every exposed part of his body bespoke of a low creature that couldn’t even be bothered with basic cleanliness. Elladan looked away from the pathetic wretch in disgust.

Aragorn watched as Elladan took stock of Elrohir. He was somewhat gratified to note that Elladan didn’t recognize him right away either. He’d been troubled before that he hadn’t known his brother immediately, but apparently the change in him was enough that even Elladan didn’t know it was Elrohir. This small satisfaction, however, quickly was erased as Aragorn was now left with the problem of how to tell his older brother that the dirty, trussed-up elf was really his twin! He opened his mouth several time, at a total loss for words.

Elladan noted his little brother’s distress and went over to him. “Estel,” he said, taking his brother’s chin in his hand and forcing him to look up. “Whatever has happened, be at peace. I am here and will help you, no matter what trouble you have found,” he finished with a small laugh. His youngest brother was notorious for finding trouble wherever he went.

Aragorn looked away, still unsure how to best explain the past weeks of ecstatic joy followed by agonizing frustration, disappointment, and worry.

The older twin couldn’t figure out his brother’s reluctance to speak, so he put two and two together and came up with five. “Did he hurt you?” growled Elladan, pointing to the man still slumped over by the tree.

At that, Aragorn laughed, breaking his loss of words. “No....no, it is nothing like that!,” he said. Serious again, he decided on a simple message, “Elladan...that is Elrohir.”

Elladan’s first reaction was one of shocked anger. What was Estel playing at? Why would he imply that that filthy waste of human flesh was Elrohir?!

“What are you saying?” he demanded harshly, stepping away from both Aragorn and the bound man.

Pointing once more at the tree, he added, “You cannot tell me that you truly believe this is...”. He choked on his words as he saw the figure raise his head and look up. With his head up, Elladan clearly could see the pointed ears--an elf! Moreover, the face was too dirty for description, but the eyes...the identical set of eyes staring back at him were his brother’s!

Elladan forgot to breathe. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t prepared himself to meet his twin. Estel’s note had only said that he needed Elladan to come quickly. He hadn’t expected this! Two and a half years of searching without even the slighted sign had left him unready to suddenly be face-to-face with his long-sought brother. He felt strong hands grab his shoulders as shock robbed his legs of strength. As he was eased down, he found himself looking into Estel’s face, grounding himself by focusing on the solid, real form of his littlest brother. But then his gaze was pulled back to his other brother, who was now looking right at him with an unexpected glare. It was Elrohir, but something was obviously very wrong.

As he pulled away from Aragorn, Elladan shakily stood and staggered over to Elrohir. Before he could grab a hold of him, however, he was stopped by a shout from Aragorn.

“No! Wait,” cautioned the young man. “Do not touch him, Elladan. We must talk first...please?”

Elladan would have ignored Aragorn and scooped Elrohir into a bone-crushing hug, never pausing for a moment to wonder why Estel had felt it necessary to tie up his brother, but the look of distrust and unfriendliness directed at him from his twin stopped him in his tracks. This was such a foreign look on his brother’s face that Elladan looked back at Aragorn in confusion and hurt. Backing away from Elrohir, he finally plopped himself gracelessly down in the dirt by Aragorn and ground out, “Tell me!” never taking his eyes off his twin.

Aragorn proceeded to quickly outline the past several weeks, starting with the rangers’ mission, the unexpected miracle of finding Elrohir, the difficulties of dealing with their brother in his current state, and ending with his disappointment at his own inability to make any kind of connection with Elrohir. He explained Elrohir’s aversion to contact as well as his apparent lack of any memory of who he was. At least, that’s what Aragorn assumed, since Elrohir hadn’t spoken to him at all in the time they’d been together.

Elladan listened in dismay as he heard of the drugs being used to control his brother. Having studied the healing arts with his father, he was greatly disturbed to hear of the effects of the drugs and could only hope that his brother would be back to normal once they’d worn off. Elladan kept silent as he listened, only speaking when Aragorn finished his story and at last mentioned that he’d been forced to buy Elrohir to get him away from his miserable existence.

“Aye...it was the only way to get him out of there immediately. I could nott leave him, Elladan. I just couldn’t,” answered Aragorn earnestly. He hoped his brother wouldn’t ask what he’d used for payment.

“And just what was he worth?” asked Elladan, inwardly furious that his brother had been bartered over as if some stock animal.

“Elladan, do not be angry,” begged Aragorn. An apologetic look at his brother was followed by, “I...I had to give them my brooch in exchange for Elrohir.”

The brooch, or cloak clasp, had been a gift from their father when Aragorn had reached his majority just a few years earlier. It was a priceless piece of artistry that matched ones that each of his siblings had also received from their father. One which Aragorn had treasured as a reminder that he was, although adopted, just as much a beloved part of the family as his elven kin. It was irreplaceable, both in terms of cost and sentiment, but given the choice, Aragorn would have given it up all over again in order to rescue his brother.

The young man feared Elladan’s reaction, however, concerned that he’d think that his brother hadn’t understood the treasured gift in the first place and had traded it away carelessly. He needn’t have worried, though. Elladan understood immediately the choice that had faced him and indeed, if given the same option, would have given away his own pin as well without hesitation. A trinket, after all, when compared to the life of their brother. A quick smile, the first he’d given his brother since he’d rode up, reassured the ranger that he’d done the right thing.

The whole time the brothers were talking, the young elf they were discussing remained tied to the tree, his arms growing more and more tired as they stayed firmly bound over his head. He tugged on the ropes ineffectively as he tried to listen to what was going on. It was an elf! Countless stories of the treachery of elves swirled through his confused thoughts as he watched the two conferring. He wished for the millionth time that he could keep his thoughts focused. Were the stories true? Was he in danger? Could he do anything about it if he was? A vicious tug at the ropes still produced no effect other than sore wrists. That blasted human certainly knew how to tie his knots!

Elrohir’s struggles grabbed the attention of his brothers. He stilled as the two went silent and approached him--and then he nearly quit breathing as the human stopped and the elf continued on.

Elladan walked forward until he was just a couple of feet from his brother. He fought the urge to touch him, to make sure that he was really real. But he didn’t want to scare him before he’d had a chance to gain his trust. He learned enough from listening of Aragorn’s struggles to know that he’d have to tread very lightly with his twin.

Elladan studied his brother, who just glared at him. Looking directly into his eyes, the only part of him that was truly recognizable, he reached out a tentative hand toward his twin. He stopped when he saw Elrohir stiffen and try to pull back. Then he reached forward again, only this time even more slowly. He moved cautiously like one approaching a wild animal, for he’d seen that the angry stare really was covering up a fear that lurked in the younger twin’s eyes. Elrohir may have been able to fool everyone else, but Elladan would always know what his twin was feeling.

Elrohir watched as the dark-haired elf once more stopped. He hated this! He felt so defenseless with his hands tied up over his head. The other slaves had taunted him countless times about how wicked elves were, so he dreaded this one’s intent. He fought to control his fears and keep them from showing. It may not be much, but the only thing left to him at the moment was his pride and he wasn’t about to show the approaching elf that he was scared.

But Elladan knew anyway. Speaking softly, he didn’t come any closer to Elrohir, “Ro, it’s me. It’s Elladan. Estel says you don’t remember, but I’m your brother and I’m really, really glad to see you.” He stopped for a moment as his voice caught. ‘Really glad to see you’ didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling. He wanted to scream with the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. Elrohir was the other half of his soul! They were a pair, only truly complete with the other. There was no one else in the world who was more dear to him and he’d nearly been lost himself when his brother went missing.

Elladan wanted so badly to hold his twin that he moved forward once more, but paused when he noted Elrohir’s breaths become ragged. ‘Patience,’ he told himself. He’d wait until Elrohir was used to his presence before moving again. Elladan smiled gently with compassion as he saw the younger twin putting on such a brave front. How very like Elrohir! When at last Elrohir seemed calmer, Elladan very slowly reached up and unlooped the rope from the tree branch, allowing his brother to lower his sore arms and sink to the ground.

He knelt in front of his twin and continued quietly, “Elrohir, I want to untie your hands now. I promise I will not hurt you. I only wish to help. Will you trust me?”

Elladan hoped for some kind of response, but got none. Still, the look he was receiving now was at least not as hostile as before. Apprehensive, perhaps, but there was intelligence in the eyes gazing at him and perhaps just the slightest hint of acceptance in the way that Elrohir was regarding his brother.

Elrohir indeed was feeling less threatened by the elf who was talking to him so kindly. Maybe all those stories had been lies after all. Since Elrohir’s experience with elves consisted of his own sense of self, which was unfortunately rather limited and now watching this quiet-spoken elf trying to reach him, he didn’t have much to base his trust on. In fact, Elrohir had to fight against an almost screaming instinct to pull away when the other elf had knelt down. But...but something else--even deeper than instincts--was telling him to be still and allow this elf to come near him. He couldn’t understand why he felt such a connection to the elf...maybe all elves felt this way about each other, but that ‘something’ made him just for a moment feel safe in the other’s presence.

Elladan pulled on the rope until Elrohir’s hands were out in front of him and then very slowly, he took his twin’s hands in one of his while he used the other to untie him. He ignored the way the hands shook. It could have been fear, or perhaps just fatigue. Or maybe it was his own hands shaking. Either way, he had to concentrate to untie the knots that held his brother prisoner, unknowingly echoing his twin’s earlier observation. Blast Estel! Did he have to make those knots so tight?!

At last, the final knot was undone and Elrohir’s hands were freed. The older twin kept a grip on one of Elrohir’s hands, however, hoping that his brother wouldn’t object to the continued contact.

“Come along,” Elladan gently coaxed once the ropes had fallen to the ground. With a look at the dirty countenance so close to him and a whiff of the filth that covered the rest of his usually tidy brother, he decided ‘first things first!’ He had to get his brother clean. With a tug on his hand, Elladan pulled his brother up.

Aragorn watched in amazement as Elrohir cautiously started following Elladan to the nearby stream, remembering the last disastrous attempt to get him clean. Elrohir was still hesitant, but at least he wasn’t fighting his brother and even seemed to not notice that Elladan hadn’t let go of his hand.

Elladan, for all his joy at actually being with Elrohir again, was able to act remarkably calm. He didn’t want his excitement to spook his brother into retreating into the unreachable shell that Estel had described. He kept glancing back at Elrohir, trying to read his thoughts from his expressive eyes.

Elrohir’s thoughts, though, were confused at best. Yes, he had initially been frightened of the elf. He’d been told countless times during his captivity of how worthless, vile, and sadistic elves were. Not only had his fellow slaves used these taunts to torment him, but the guards had used them as well as they justified whatever abuse was being heaped on him. He still wasn’t sure whether or not there was truth to those stories, but he felt only compassion flowing from the elf. He had a sense that the elf leading him to the stream meant him no harm, not right now at any rate...of course maybe later... Oh! If only he could keep his thoughts focused! One second he’d be safe in the here and now, and the next he’d be reliving some past horrific experience, and then he’d find himself back in reality, but anticipating some nightmare conclusion to the day’s events. When the only thing you could remember of your life revolved around backbreaking labor and vicious beatings, it was hard to believe that there was any place for kindness and caring in the world. His past remembrances coupled with the affect from the drugs were making it difficult for Elrohir to keep a hold of the thought that the elf meant him no harm. Still, he kept following him, some unquenched spark of hope allowing him to trust this strangely compelling elf.

When the brothers reached the stream, Elladan sat down, pulling Elrohir with him. “Come,” he urged, once more using the soothing voice he’d previously used for skittish horses. “Let us get you out of those rags now.”

Elrohir jerked back, however, when Elladan let go of his hand and gestured for him to remove his tunic. This was one thing that Elrohir did know about. Removing your tunic meant a beating! The stories were true....but wait! The other elf was calmly removing his own tunic and undertunic, and now was sitting there bare-chested looking at him patiently, clearly expecting him to follow in kind. He didn’t threaten, didn’t push, didn’t yell, didn’t say anything in fact. He just quietly waited. Well, if the other elf had done it, perhaps...just maybe it would be well this time, after all. Hesitantly, he mimicked his brother and removed his own soiled shirt. One by one, Elladan removed the rest of his clothes, waiting as Elrohir copied each of his movements.

Aragorn watched the whole proceedings in complete, frustrated bemusement. Now why hadn’t his efforts been received so well? Elrohir hadn’t been this easy to deal with the whole time they’d been together. He scrambled to pull a couple of bars of soap out of his pack and quickly tossed them over to Elladan, not wanting anything to break the spell his brother seemed to have over Elrohir. The older twin caught the soap and with a wink for his youngest brother, handed one of the bars to Elrohir with a smile. Then he waded into the deep water in the center of the stream and watched as Elrohir trailed behind him. Step by step, the younger twin followed everything Elladan did, first soaping up, then scrubbing himself, and finally rinsing off.

Elladan’s first major challenge came when he approached his brother to help him wash his hair. He knew that there was no way his twin could get it clean on his own. The matted, snarled, tangled mess was a disaster! Things had been going so well, however, that he had momentarily forgotten how easily Elrohir was spooked and inadvertently came too close, too fast. Elrohir backed up so quickly that he stumbled over some rocks and found himself falling backward in the water. He came up startled and flailing, but Elladan wisely stayed back, forcing himself to not aid his brother. A sharp command to Estel also kept their younger brother from assisting in any way.

Once Elrohir regained his feet, Elladan approached him warily, not wanting to further frighten him. Elladan could see his twin shaking in reaction as he backed away from his advancing brother.

“Easy, Ro. Easy,” the older twin crooned. “I told you, I will not hurt you. I wish to help. You would like to get those knots out of your hair, now, wouldn’t you?” He moved a little closer, encouraged that this time his brother didn’t back off.

“That’s right. Just relax. Can you let me help clean your hair?” he continued soothingly.

Both Elladan and Aragorn were astonished, but thrilled when Elrohir nodded hesitantly and allowed Elladan to come right up beside him. This was the first time that Elrohir directly communicated in any way with his brothers.

Elladan tossed Estel his bar of soap and then led Elrohir to the stream’s edge, pulling him down and then sitting behind him in the knee-deep water. Gently taking the soap that Elrohir still had firmly in his grasp, Elladan proceeded to lather up his brother’s hair. Elrohir at first was stiff with tension, but after awhile he began to loosen up as his hair was scrubbed clean.

The younger elf closed his eyes as he felt strong fingers massaging his scalp. He momentarily let his wariness fade while he enjoyed the feeling of someone taking care of him. It was a novelty to him, a slave who only remembered cruelty. In his memory, no one had ever touched him without the intent of pushing him, tripping him, whipping him, or beating him. Touches of course meant pain, but they also meant an incomprehensible fear that came from deep within him. He had thought it inconceivable before now that one could ever be pleasurable.

Elladan was not unaware of the impact he was having on Elrohir. He felt his brother relaxing more and more under his ministrations and thus took his time in getting his hair completely clean. It was with regret on both their parts when he finally said, “We are finished Ro. You may get up now.”

Elladan stood and, by habit, reached out his hand to help Elrohir up, only remembering too late that his brother didn’t welcome contact. He was so astonished when his twin actually reached up and took his hand willingly! He swallowed the lump in his throat as he accepted with gratitude this small sign of his brother’s growing trust. With as cheery smile as he could manage, he said, “Now let us find some clean clothes.”

Once more, Elladan provided the model for Elrohir, drying off and then getting dressed, while his brother copied each of his movements. The extra clothes that Elladan gave to his twin of course were an excellent fit, and in short order the two of them were clean, dry, and sitting in front of the small cookfire that Aragorn had built as they dressed.

While their youngest brother worked to prepare a stew, Elladan combed his hair and then tossed the comb to Elrohir. After just a few hopeless minutes, it was clear that he’d be needing more help with his hair and Elladan sat down next to him with a wry smile.

Elrohir didn’t nod at him this time, but when he guardedly handed Elladan the comb, that seemed enough of an encouragement that the older twin happily took up the comb and started to carefully work through the tangles.

It took almost an hour of painstaking work before the last of the tangles was removed. An hour during which Elrohir unfortunately remained tense and distressed. The pulled hair didn’t seem to be his problem, even though there were times when it was yanked rather hard. No, his issue seemed to be more the prolonged contact required from Elladan as he worked through the snarls. The hand not holding the comb was either on his shoulder or on his head and Elrohir’s drug-induced confusion kept making him think that any second Elladan was going to haul off and slug him, or maybe shove his face in the dirt. These were things that were sadly only too frequent in his previous life and he just knew that it was a matter of time before it happened again.

Elladan, thankfully, couldn’t read what was going on in his brother’s head. He was concentrating too hard on the way things were turning out to even contemplate such disturbing thoughts. No...he was busy turning his brother back into his brother. By the time he was done combing and finally braiding Elrohir’s hair, the younger elf was transformed. No longer a grubby slave, he now looked again like the elven prince that he was. A little thinner perhaps, certainly too serious and wary, and definitely quieter than before, but still, now he could be recognized as Lord Elrohir and not the “filthy elf slave.”

The rest of the evening past without any great drama, but still managed to be a trying time for the sons of Elrond. The brothers camped right where they were, too keyed up to even start thinking of the journey ahead of them. The three tried to have a somewhat normal evening, cooking dinner, eating, and then settling down for the night, but the strangeness of being together without the usual camaraderie that had marked their normal relationship was taxing on them. Even Elrohir, who naturally didn’t remember those earlier days, felt uneasy listening to the strained conversations as well as feeling the visible tension in the newly-arrived elf.

Not unexpectedly, Elladan was the one that found the reunion the most difficult. Aragorn, of course, had had several weeks already to adjust to being with Elrohir. Elrohir, even though he could sense the tension in the others, still didn’t realize what a momentous occasion it was, being reunited with his twin. Truth be told, he didn’t even know Elladan was his twin...neither of the brothers had mentioned that fact and the young elf, who had never seen a mirror, didn’t realize that he looked exactly like the other one! That left Elladan, who found his emotions so twisted in knots that he was unable to sit still for more than a few moments. His initial reaction had been joy, of course, and then he had been too busy with the immediate concerns of dealing with Elrohir to think about what this all really meant. Reaction was finally setting in, however. When he had answered Aragorn’s summons, he had had no inkling that he’d be reunited with his twin--now the resulting avalanche of feelings that was bombarding him was keeping him so edgy that he just wanted to scream to release the pressure.

“Elladan, would you sit down?” asked Aragorn, after the fifth time the older elf had jumped to up ‘go check on his horse.’ “You know your horse will become offended if you keep acting like you need to make sure he’s not misbehaving,” he added with a grin.

Elladan looked over at his little brother and slowly blew out his breath. Yes, he knew he needed to sit down and calm himself, but he was finding it hard to do. With a small smile and a nod for his brother, he sat down next to him and looked across the campsite at their other brother who was studying both of them with a cautious appraisal. How Elladan would have loved to know exactly what that twin of his was thinking right now! Then again, his own thoughts were so jumbled up, that he imagined that Elrohir’s may be confused as well.

Finally deciding that just staring at Elrohir may make him nervous, Elladan forced himself to look away from his twin. All he really wanted to do was to go over to him and hold him. Elrond and Celebrian had both been very physically loving parents and had brought up all their children to be the same. It was thus quite natural for Elladan and his siblings to give each other a hug, a pat on the shoulder, or even just a light touch as a sign of wordless affection. Elrohir, his brother, his twin, the missing part of himself, had returned from being lost for over two years and now he had to be satisfied with just the brief contact he’d had when helping Elrohir get clean? It was driving Elladan crazy! It was more than just wanting to show his love for his brother, though. He had an irrational fear that somehow he’d look up and Elrohir would be gone and this would all be a dream. If he could touch Elrohir, it would make him more real, somehow...solid. But no...there he sat, unreachable. A shell of his brother that couldn’t be touched, wouldn’t respond with words, and had made no sign that he knew his twin at all.

The older twin jumped up suddenly, startling the other two in the camp. He regretted that, but couldn’t sit still for another moment.

“Estel,” he informed his youngest brother, “I wish to hunt for a few rabbits. They will make for a splendid breakfast before we start on our journey tomorrow and...and honestly it would do me good to clear my thoughts. Can you take care of things here alone?” In a lower voice he added, “Do you think he will run away since he not tied?”

The ranger looked at Elrohir, who was watching his brothers with interest. He obviously wasn’t currently in one of his drug hazes, but he hadn’t yet made any move to try to escape, either. Aragorn smiled lightly as he saw Elrohir looking back at him. Having the younger twin cleaned up and dressed in Elladan’s clothes made him seem so much more like the brother of old that Aragorn felt renewed optimism. Deciding he’d rather take the chance that Elrohir would run away than tie him up again, he shook his head.

“Nay, I believe he will stay with us. I’d rather he learned to trust us...and besides, his wrists are a bit raw from pulling on those ropes so hard this afternoon--tying him up would only aggravate them. I will watch him carefully. Can you not be gone too long, though?” asked the young man. Noting the tight look on his brother’s face, he added even softer, “Elladan, he may not remember you consciously, you know, but from the way he responded to you, I believe that somewhere deep inside him, he feels connected to you.”

That was the right thing to say and Elladan gifted his little brother with a smile and a grateful squeeze of his shoulder. Saying nothing more, he gave a quick nod, mounted his horse, and rode off down the path.

Elladan had only been riding for about 15 minutes when he stopped, dismounted, and climbed up into a large, old tree. The rabbits would have to wait! He easily leapt from one limb to the next as he climbed and finally saw what he was looking for about 50 feet up--a thick branch at just the right angle to provide him with a secure, comfortable spot to rest while he tried to piece together his shattered emotions. Resting his back against the tree trunk, Elladan sank down onto the large branch he’d chosen and buried his face in his hands.

Reaction set in swiftly as the older twin tried desperately to maintain control. He breathed deeply in a vain attempt to calm himself, but found that he had begun shaking violently and he simply couldn’t stop himself from giving in to the overwhelming feelings. Initial, short sobs were ripped out of him and then deepened into gut-wrenching cries pulled from the very depths of his soul. If Lord Elrond had seen his eldest son at that moment, he would have instantly recognized his behavior as shock. Although Elladan had suffered no physical injury, the mental anguish of the past years of searching, never knowing if or when he’d find his twin, never knowing if he suffered or called out for him...this all crashed down on him with the added burden of finding his brother so confused, so distant. Elladan had been so strong for so long, never giving up, never admitting for even one minute that he may not find his twin, his best friend. But now that Elrohir was found, the driving urgency of the search was gone and Elladan found himself free to face his darkest fears. The fear that he’d find Elrohir too late and he’d be dead. Or that he’d never find his twin and search a lifetime, which for an elf could be an eternity. Or the fear that may have been realized today, that he’d find Elrohir, but whatever he’d been through had so changed him that things would never be the same. Yes, that had been a secret fear as well and now that it was a real possibility, Elladan had to find an inner strength somewhere to deal with it.

Long minutes passed as the silence of the forest was broken by the elf’s anguished cries. Then slowly, the older twin brought himself under control. He sighed shakily as he finally calmed down and even managed to snicker at himself. He hadn’t done anything like this since he and Elrohir had been little elflings! Even when their mother had been taken and then found, broken, Elladan had been the strong one and had held his younger brother and sister as they had cried for their loss. Elladan, although only minutes older than Elrohir, had felt that he always had to be strong, that as the oldest brother he had to be the fortress that sheltered the others. And he had always done that job to perfection. As he sat in the tree, however, it dawned on him just how much Elrohir was a part of his strength. With Elrohir by his side, Elladan had always had the certainty of knowing...not just thinking or hoping, but knowing...that someone was there for him and always would be. When you knew, without even having to think of it, that someone would always be watching your back, would always be there to support you when you needed it, would forgive you even when you didn’t deserve it, would share the joy of your triumphs and the sadness of your defeats, would give his very life for you as you would for him...well, that kind of knowledge gave one such an inner strength that you could defeat practically anything that the world threw at you!

Elladan drew another deep breath, this one more steady than the last. Yes, he’d needed to remind himself of the strength that he and his lifelong companion drew from each other. It helped him to remember just what they’d promised when they were small children--that no matter what happened, they would always be there for one another. It wasn’t that he’d questioned that commitment. No...that hadn’t been the problem. He had momentarily been overwhelmed with the fear that whatever he did might not be enough. What if he wasn’t strong enough to do what it took to support Elrohir in his struggle to regain his life? But now the older twin smiled as he realized that he had Elrohir back at his side and together they could overcome any obstacle. Even if his twin never spoke or never remembered his past, they would simply build new memories while he showed his brother just how much he was loved and missed.

As strong resolve grew inside Elladan, a frustrated whinny from below drew his thoughts firmly back into the here and now. Looking down at his horse beneath the tree, Elladan laughed out loud when he saw that the worried animal was practically trying to climb the tree to get to his distressed master. He wiped his eyes quickly and then made his way down to his loyal friend, giving him a quick hug and a pat for his obvious concern. Low words of comfort settled the horse back down and after a short scratch of his ears in affection, Elladan sprang onto his back and they once again set off, only this time truly on a hunt for the breakfast rabbits.

Elladan returned to the brothers’ campsite after about an hour. Carrying a couple of large rabbits and once more showing the calm, in-control visage that he was known for, the older twin simply exuded confidence and Aragorn noted his arrival with pleasure. The jumpy elf who had practically run out of their camp was gone and had been replaced with one who was much more like the brother he knew and could trust to make everything work out! He had obviously found whatever answer he’d been looking for while he was gone and Aragorn was grateful for the change. In fact, overall the ranger was feeling pretty good as he took the rabbits from his brother and began to prepare them. Elrohir had behaved himself quite well while Elladan had been gone and now everything just seemed rosier than it had yesterday.

Aragorn whistled a small tune while he worked around the campsite. Things were finally looking up and the ranger’s natural optimism once more was evident. Elladan was cheerily brushing down his horse, Elrohir was quietly building up the fire as requested, and he was feeling so happy that he was constantly having to wipe a grin off his face. Yes, things were definitely looking up!

The brothers broke camp the next morning after a hearty breakfast consisting of Elladan’s rabbits and various roots and berries. They started home happily with Elladan and Aragorn walking up front and Elrohir trailing behind. Since it had been over a year since the brothers had been together, Elladan and Aragorn spent much of the morning catching up on each other’s news. Aragorn told of his first few exciting missions with the rangers, enjoying the chance to share his enthusiasm with his brother. But then the mood darkened when Elladan spoke of his journeys during his hunt for Elrohir. Even now, with their brother walking safely behind them, Aragorn could hear the grief in Elladan’s voice as he described chasing one disappointing lead after another without any hint of success. In order to distract him from his melancholy thoughts, the young ranger launched into some amusing tales of the small blunders he’d had while learning to fit in with his ranger brethren. Knowing he was opening himself up for teasing, he considered it well worth the cost when he finally saw the grin on his brother’s face...one that had been absent for far too long.

The two would periodically try to bring Elrohir into their conversations, but the young elf wouldn’t respond in any way to their attempts. About half of the time he would have slipped into one of those drugged hazes, but even when he was obviously lucid, he would still simply look at them without reaction--at best there were times when he would show a kind of cautious interest in what they were saying.

Aragorn had grown rather used to this response, or rather lack of it, from Elrohir, but it took Elladan a while to realize that even with his initial success from the day before, they had a long way to go before Elrohir was anything like the brother he knew. Still, he was certain that with patience they would see steady improvement--a thought that kept him trying to communicate with his brother regardless of his reactions.

As the three brothers walked along the path, Elladan became aware of yet another indicator of just how different things were going to be with his twin. Since neither of the younger two brothers had mounts of their own, Elladan had chosen to lead his horse rather than ride it. It was a beautiful animal, full of spirit and strength, but it was also well-behaved and had never made any alarming or threatening gestures to Elrohir. It was absolutely baffling, therefore, when Elrohir made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want anything to do with it! When it came near him, he moved to the other side of the path and when they stopped, he was always careful to keep several yards between him and the animal. This seemed extremely odd from the elf who had such a natural affinity for horses that as a normally obedient child, he had often gotten himself (and sometimes his twin) in trouble by sneaking off to the stables when he should have been elsewhere. Even as he’d grown up, he had loved being around horses had become renowned for his instinctive connection with even the most difficult of animals. So it was very strange that he now seemed wary of Elladan’s horse--one that he, in fact, had helped to train.

Since the younger twin could not or would not communicate with his brothers verbally, they were left to try to figure out this puzzle only by watching his behavior. This method left much to be desired, however, since all it told them was that he didn’t appear to be frightened of the beast, but he absolutely would have nothing to do with it.

Elrohir’s odd behavior with the horse aside, for the most part the first few days went fairly well. Elrohir still wasn’t very receptive to anything Aragorn said to him, but that instant bond he had formed with Elladan made dealing with the younger elf much easier. He seemed to be willing to do what his twin asked of him, even when he wasn’t obviously being influenced by the drugs. Although Aragorn found it frustrating and, yes, a bit sad that they didn’t have an equally easy relationship, he was immensely grateful that his big brother had finally shown up and was there to help him out. Thus, he accepted with grace the fact that he’d have to work very hard to rebuild his own place in Elrohir’s life.

Yes, the first few days passed relatively quietly as Elladan learned the new ‘Elrohir Rules.’ Number one: don’t touch. Even though he had allowed it that first day, Elrohir was still clearly upset by any physical contact and it was easier all around to simply avoid it. Number two: when his eyes seemed slightly unfocused, the drugs had the upper hand and he would be extremely compliant and docile. You couldn’t become complacent, however, since he could snap out of it with absolutely no notice and you would find yourself having to treat him in a completely different manner. Number three: when not under the influence of the drugs, he responded much better to being asked to do things rather than being told. Well, that was just common courtesy anyway, so that was an easy rule. Number four: he never spoke and rarely gave away anything through facial expressions. The only way to really gauge his thoughts and feelings was to look into his eyes. Interestingly, they were the one clear indicator that Elrohir was still in there somewhere, for at times the brothers would catch an expression in them that was pure Elrohir of old. Yes, Elladan was certainly kept busy learning these rules and adjusting his behavior to find the best way to connect with his twin.

Learning to deal with his twin wasn’t what caused Elladan the most heartache initially, however. That came several days into their trip when Aragorn called over to him late one evening as the young man was building up the fire for the night. The wind was whipping up and there was a chill in the air, unusual for that time of year. “Dan,” he called, “could you fetch some more wood? A storm is building and we may need some extra if we’re to keep the fire going tonight.”

The comment was a simple one, but the reaction it set off was not. Both Elladan and Elrohir got up at the request and started to head for the trees in search of wood. Elrohir noted with confusion that Elladan also responded to the request and then stopped dead and stood there looking at him, his eyes opened wide in apparent shock.

“Ro, what is it? What is wrong?” asked Elladan with concern. Nothing had changed in the last few seconds and he had no idea what had startled his brother.

Elrohir was now breathing rapidly and staring at Elladan, moving his lips as if he were saying something, although no sound came out.

Aragorn looked at the twins and it suddenly hit him in a flash. “’Dan !’ He’s saying ‘Dan!’” exclaimed Aragorn. “Oh.......Elladan!”

The older twin looked at his youngest brother in bewilderment, “What? Why does my name upset him?” he asked.

Turning to his twin, he added, “Did you not know that my nickname is Dan? You have called me that since we were quite young...and the name kind of stuck. Just like I call you ‘Ro.’ Is the name distressing you, somehow?”

Elrohir pressed his palms into his forehead as if trying to grind out a painful memory. When Elladan reached out to him in alarm, however, he put out his hands and backed off, clearly indicating that he wanted his brother to come no closer. Elladan stood there with his mouth open as Elrohir continued to back off, stopping only when he bumped up against a tree. With a distinct ‘thud,’ he sat on the ground and then buried his head in his arms, but not before Elladan saw the stunned, bewildered look on his brother’s face.

Both Elladan and Aragorn simply stood, confused and concerned, as they watched this unexpected scene unfold. Elladan was torn, wanting to go to his brother but also wanting to respect Elrohir’s clear wish to be left alone. Something was going on with his twin, but he hadn’t the faintest idea as to what it was or what he should do about it. Turning to his littlest brother for help, he hoped between the two of them they could decipher enough clues so he could figure out what in all of Arda had just happened!

The ranger winced. He was fairly certain that he had the answer to this riddle, but he was also fairly certain that it was one that would make Elladan feel bad. Still, it was something that needed to be told.

Knowing that waiting wouldn’t make it any easier, Aragorn began quietly, “I think the name is upsetting him because it is one that he knows. I don’t know how I forgot to tell you this, but... when I found Elrohir, he did not use his own name. Umm...he was using that name...yours...‘Dan.’ In fact, that was the first sign to me that he might be our brother. It is not an elvish name, after all, and I thought it strange that an elf would use it.” The ranger paused as he glanced over at Elrohir, still sitting alone by the tree--next was the part that he was afraid might hurt Elladan. However, he continued, “The men who sold him to Borgas...he was the overseer where I found Ro...well, they told Borgas that his name was ‘Dan,’ because...because that was the only thing that they’d heard him say.”

A quick look back at his oldest brother confirmed that his news had gone straight through the elf like a knife! His eyes were closed in pain as he said in almost a whisper, “He did call for me. I knew it! Something terrible happened to him and he called to me...and I never answered.”

Elladan sunk to the ground as he shook his head, grief written plainly on his face. Aragorn sat down beside him, not knowing how to help either of his brothers, but wanting desperately to give his support, if only by listening.

Elladan spoke again, not even seeing as he recalled those long ago moments when he knew something was wrong, “I never told you, but when he first went missing, I knew he was in trouble right away, for I had been awakened in the middle of the night by someone screaming my name. I was so sure that it was Elrohir, calling to me, but Ada told me it was only a nightmare--that no one else had heard anything and I was just upset because Ro and I had had words before he left.”

After a humorless laugh he continued, “If you remember, we had indeed had harsh words. It was never my intent to be cross with Elrohir that day, but it just seemed to happen.”

Aragorn watched his brother in interest. He had known about the twin’s quarrel, but had never heard the details. He remained silent as Elladan continued. “In retrospect, it was such a stupid thing to argue over...certainly not worthy of my last words to my twin for more than two years.” With a small frown, he went on, “Elrohir’s horse had eaten something that disagreed with him and the beast was out of sorts. That is all that started it. The horse was not in great distress, but it was simply not at his best and I told Elrohir he should leave him behind and take another on his trip to Rohan. I only meant it as a helpful suggestion, but Elrohir took it as an interfering, bossy brother telling him how to manage his life. I have played that conversation over in my mind a thousand times, Estel, and to this day I don’t know if he was right. Did I, though my tone or words, sound condescending or arrogant? I do not know. But Elrohir...well, Elrohir must have taken it that way, for he was quite irritated with me when he left and he said some things and...(sigh)...I said some things.”

Elladan sighed again deeply and looked at his little brother in profound sorrow, “I cannot tell you how many times I wished I could replay those last words and instead of a silly quarrel over a horse, I had told Elrohir how much I loved him and wished him well on his journey. Never again, Estel,” vowed Elladan, looking into his brother’s eyes. “Never again will I send anyone I care about off on a journey with harsh words!”

In wordless understanding, Aragorn reached over and squeezed Elladan’s forearm, the quiet gesture acknowledging the pain behind his brother’s words--the years of knowing those foolish words of irritation and anger may very well be the last ever spoken to his twin.

The older twin smiled softly at his little brother for the comforting gesture and then continued, his voice becoming rough with emotion as he forced himself back to the night that he knew something had happened to his beloved twin, “It was about two weeks after that pointless argument that I heard the call in the night. I swear it was as if Elrohir had screamed my name right in my ear, I heard it so clearly! And I knew it was he. It was his voice calling me, and what I felt...”

Elladan’s voice faded away to nothing as he struggled to maintain control. A strong arm around his shoulders gave him courage and with a deep breath he continued, “What I felt, Estel, was a horrible wave of emotions wash over me... pain, anguish, terror, longing,...despair. I knew it was Elrohir. I knew he needed me and I ran straight for Ada’s chambers to tell him. But then he didn’t believe me! He wouldn’t believe me...”

Aragorn gave his brother’s shoulders a squeeze. “Elladan, why did you never tell me any of this? I was there, after all. You know I would have given you my support!”

The older brother gave Aragorn a loving smile. “My thanks, Little One. But I did not tell anyone because I allowed Ada to convince me that it had been a dream. Even though my heart told me otherwise, I wanted to believe his explanation because I could not bear it if it were real. I tried so hard to convince myself that Ada was right, for if I was simply being foolish over some stupid nightmare, then nothing had happened and Elrohir would be okay. And...perhaps I should have told you, but I didn’t wish to burden you with the same terrible fears that were in my heart.”

Aragorn nodded silently, understanding his brother’s reason, if not accepting his decision to keep him in the dark. The two sat quietly together for a few moments before Elladan spoke once more, this time in no more than a whisper, “To hear now that he did call for me...Estel, now I know that what I felt was real...and it shatters me.”

With that, he bowed his head in grief and sorrow as he accepted with gratitude the comfort of his human brother’s arms as they both tried to come to terms with what they had learned.

Elrohir ignored his two brothers as they talked quietly on the other side of the camp. He had blocked out everything as he tried to focus on his own thoughts, which were swirling around violently. For more than two years and up until he was bought by the young man, Estel, his own name had been ‘Dan.’ That’s what the men who sold him to Lord Hebert had called him and that had been his name ever since he could remember. But no one had known why he had chosen that name. No one had known that that one word was the only thing he had retained from his previous life--one word that he had held on to as a lifeline when nothing else was familiar.

Elrohir’s first memories were of traveling with a band of men. Rough, coarse men who took care of him, for he’d been injured, but who also made it clear that he was their property. The only thing he could focus on during those first few days of pain and confusion had been that word, ‘Dan.” He hadn’t known what it meant, but somehow it brought him comfort. He had said that word to the men, but they didn’t seem to know who or what it meant, either. Perhaps they had thought he was giving them his name, because that’s what they called him afterwards. There had been no point in correcting them, however, for there was nothing else he knew to be called.

His reaction to Estel just now had been instinctive. The young man had called him ‘Dan’ only at their initial meetings, but ever since had called him ‘Elrohir.’ However, when he heard the name today, he had just assumed that Estel had meant him--force of habit after over two years of answering to it. But...when Elladan also responded to the name, it had hit him suddenly that he had meant Elladan, instead. Elladan was ‘Dan!’ Of course!

Elrohir was more than irritated with himself for not figuring that out earlier, but mostly he was trying to understand just what this meant. Why was this elf so important to him that his name was the only thing he had retained after all his other memories had been lost? The word had been a comfort to him, he knew that, but why? Now that he had been with the elf and had felt that instant bond with him, he understood better the answer to that question. This elf was dear to him in some special way--now combined with the knowledge that he was ‘Dan,’ Elrohir finally began to believe what the elf had told him when they first met...he was his brother! He hadn’t believed until now since, after all, the human had said the same thing when they first met. When the elf had also claimed to be a brother, he had assumed “brother” meant something different to them than it did to him. But now...

Having worked through all this in his mind, Elrohir looked up at the other elf in wonder. That was his ‘Dan!’ He took a deep breath and then opened his mouth to call to him, but stopped himself short when he saw that the young man had his arm around Elladan’s shoulders, comforting the obviously upset elf. Elrohir didn’t know what was going on now, but he just couldn’t intrude on it. In fact, a small pang in his heart told him that he may very well be the cause of it! What had he done this time? Had he had one of those horrid “fog” periods and done something stupid? He didn’t remember one, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. Elrohir watched the two in confusion. He was so tired of things being complicated and not understanding what was going on! He was grateful that at least he wasn’t feeling fuzzy-headed at the moment, but the ability to think clearly still wasn’t helping him decide what to do.

As he continued to study his two companions, another interesting thought occurred to him--if Elladan really was his brother, could the young human somehow be one as well? The other two certainly seemed close enough to one another. As he watched his ‘brothers,’ he shook his head in bewilderment and retreated back into his self-imposed shell of silence as his decision to speak slipped away. Perhaps he should watch and wait just a little bit longer before talking to them...

Elrohir briefly wondered what he should do now. If he had tried, he could have listened in on what the others were softly saying, but he decided that he’d give them their privacy. Instead, he got up and chose to help by fulfilling Estel’s request. He gathered more piles of firewood while his companions continued their quiet conversation, oblivious of his activities. When he was finished stacking it near the fire pit, they were still sitting together murmuring softly, so he curled up in his blanket and then fell fast asleep.

The following morning set the tone for the next few weeks. At first, when everyone had awoken, Elrohir’s behavior seemed much improved. He was cooperative and his eyes showed a friendly sparkle that had been missing before--a change that both brothers greeted with absolute joy. After the emotional evening before, they were ecstatic and relieved that the result had been a much-happier Elrohir.

But that mood didn’t last, to their dismay, and soon his behavior became more perplexing than ever. Whereas before he had simply displayed different degrees of caution, after his discovery of who ‘Dan’ was, his moods began to vary wildly. Things would be going along wonderfully, when without notice, he’d suddenly become wary and hostile and following that, slip into his drugged state of obedience, leaving his brothers at a complete loss as to how to handle him. This pattern repeated itself several times throughout the following days--he was sometimes friendly, sometimes hostile, and sometimes mindlessly obedient.

Trying to keep up with the changes was exhausting! Over the following weeks, Elladan and Aragorn didn’t know from one minute to the next if Elrohir would accept what they said with good cheer or would lash out violently over nothing. The drugs were clearly still affecting his reactions and his two brothers were kept on their toes, never quite knowing what to expect as their brother went from one extreme to the next followed by bouts of blind obedience. Some days passed quietly but most were full of aggravation as Elladan and Aragorn found themselves chasing after Elrohir or even forcibly subduing him after one of his rampages.

The unpredictability of Elrohir’s actions came to be more frustrating than the actions themselves and after several weeks, all three brothers found themselves tired, on edge, and irritable. At the end of one particularly difficult day, they were all fed up with the entire situation! Elrohir was wary and uncertain, Elladan was finding it painful to deal with this stranger in his brother’s body, and Aragorn was plainly worn out after dealing with this whole situation for months! It was a very morose and unhappy group that made camp that night, Elladan and Aragorn talking quietly between themselves as Elrohir sat alone.

Elrohir had deliberately sat away from the others as he tried to focus his wandering thoughts. The periodic drug-induced confusion was adding to inability to control his up and down moods and he felt like screaming in frustration. If his brothers had been watching him, they would have noted a self-mocking smile on his lips as he imagined their reaction to him screaming. He almost wanted to try it just to see what they’d do. He still did, after all, have a sense of humor. He sighed, though, and rejected that idea. He couldn’t control from one minute to the next how he’d react to anything and wouldn’t risk becoming violent and upset if they reacted badly. He’d received enough bruises for one day when his brothers had had to pounce on him as he tried to escape--three times just that day!

Arrgh! He didn’t really want to run off. Elrohir had been trying so hard to get along with his brothers ever since he had decided that these two, incredible as it may seem, were his brothers. And yes, after watching the two more, he had finally come to believe that somehow Estel must also be his brother. But even with that knowledge, he’d found the task almost impossible. When his mind was clear, everything was fine, however, when the drugs started taking over, there were periods when everything would become warped and he saw his brothers’ faces twist in anger and heard their words become laced with hatred. As time went on, the clear times were longer and longer, but that only meant that he was finally able to guess that not everything he was “seeing” was real. So how do you react when reality has a way of blending with nightmare visions? He couldn’t be certain that what he was reacting to was really happening or just a residual drug-induced hallucination. And then, of course, there were periods when he’d do anything anyone told him. This created an incredible helpless feeling that only made him more angry with himself as he realized what was happening.

Elrohir was not simple-minded. No, as both a slave and now as...whatever he was now...that had never been his problem. He was fully aware that the drugs were wreaking havoc with his thoughts and emotions, but simply didn’t know what to do to control them. It had never been a problem when he was a slave. He’d either be wrapped up in one of those hazy cocoons or he’d be guarded...wary. There had been no need to try to figure out what was real, since there was no great difference between reality and the nightmare. Now, however, things were different and he found himself absolutely unable to manage his reactions properly. By allowing himself to begin to trust the others, their “betrayals” hurt him beyond comprehension and he reacted accordingly as his volatile emotions took over. During the “good” times, he told himself that their betrayals probably weren’t real, but he still found them impossible to ignore when they were happening right in front of him.

Biting his lip in frustration, he looked over at the others. Maybe he should see if there was any way to explain to the others what was happening to him. Even if it meant taking that last trusting step and breaking his silence, maybe between the three of them they could find a solution. These wide mood swings were driving him wild! Another look in their direction startled him....there they were talking about him, weren’t they?! Yes, now they were throwing dark, angry looks at him! What was that Estel was waving at him? And what was Elladan saying? Oh, more of those hate-filled words! They were sitting over there plotting ways to make him suffer! Estel was probably going to........OH STOP! This wasn’t real, was it? He had to break through and see what was really happening......NO! Any second they were going to come over here! They were coming after him! They hated him! He had to get away!!!

Elladan and Aragorn both gave an identical sigh of disgust as Elrohir bolted away from their camp. Not again! With practiced efficiency, the two of them split up and took different trajectories--paths that would bring them both to a point ahead of and off to either side of where Elrohir was running. If their brother had been thinking clearly, he would never have allowed them to spring such a simple trap on him, but as in every other case where they’d had to chase him, he was only running blindly and once again they were able to easily capture him.

They brought him to the camp, each of them holding an arm firmly and marching him back. He fought against the contact, but was no match for the two of them and was forced to walk along between them. When they once again reached the camp, they dragged him down to his knees in the center of their little clearing and then let him go, uncertain what they should do next. Elladan had absolutely refused, ever, to tie up his brother, but there were limits to even his patience! However, even as he contemplated doing just that, Elrohir blinked a couple of times and then slipped into his hazy, obedient mode, to the utter relief of his watching brothers.

Elladan and Aragorn spoke quietly to each other while a docile Elrohir made dinner. The two brothers were grateful for a peaceful moment in which they could discuss how they should treat Elrohir to avoid another disastrous day like the one they’d just had. Moreover, they appreciated the chance to commiserate with each other on the constant frustration of having Elrohir back, but not really back.

It felt good for the two of them to talk through their feelings and realize that they weren’t being disloyal to Elrohir by feeling upset and yes, even angry with him. They knew it wasn’t his fault, per se, but it still didn’t mean that they couldn’t get seriously annoyed with him when he reacted with hostility to the most innocent of comments or disrupted their plans by running off four times in one day! Elladan had been growing more and more tired and heartsick as his continual efforts to reach Elrohir met with limited result and needed to know that he wasn’t failing his brother by feeling so discouraged. And Aragorn needed someone to tell him that some day his tireless efforts would be rewarded and he would one day have his brother back--that the volatile, erratic elf he was dealing with now would someday transform back into the brother he adored!

After talking though some of their anger and frustration and receiving reassurances from each other, the brothers finally did remind each other that there had also been some triumphs as well. On occasion Elrohir would, through a nod or gesture, acknowledge his brothers and there were indeed periods of time when he would seem actually friendly. The bad times had somewhat clouded those successes, but they shouldn’t lose sight of how far he’d come from the disgustingly dirty elf who had to be tied up 24-hours a day and reacted with hostility to absolutely everything! The cathartic effect of talking through their feelings helped them both to come to grips with their frustrations and once they began to speak of the positive changes, the brothers were able to renew their determination to remain patient as they brought their brother safely back home.

Good intentions aside, real trouble came the next day. Unexpectedly, it was the mindless obedience of Elrohir and not one of his violent displays that caused it. The brothers had set up their camp early in order to rest up before attempting a particularly difficult climb up a steep mountainside the next day. The early stop gave them the chance to cook up a nourishing stew for lunch and once it was ready, Aragorn, still careful not to touch his brother, told Elrohir to sit down and get some food. The unfocused look in his eyes was a clear sign that he would do exactly as he was told, but Aragorn didn’t realize just how literally Elrohir was about to interpret his instructions. The young elf did sit down, joining Aragorn by the fire. But then Elrohir reached out and grabbed the pot nestled in the coals. He gasped in pain, pulling back and sloshing his hands with the boiling stew as he dropped the scalding pot on the ground.

He made no other noise, but Aragorn saw what was happening and shouted just a moment too late, “NO!”

The young man sprang into action and immediately tried to wipe the scalding liquid off of his brother’s hands with the cloth that he been holding, planning to use it to take the pot from the fire. Elrohir, however, shocked back into reality by the pain of the burns, didn’t understand what Aragorn was doing and struggled to pull away from him.

Elladan, who had been seeing to a small scratch on his horse’s leg, leapt up when he heard Aragorn’s shout and came stalking over to the two with a look of pure exasperation on his face. As he neared his brothers, the ruined dinner on the ground tipped him over the edge from frustration into a pointed, focused anger. Years of worry followed by the recent weeks of stress along with yesterday’s aggravation sent his emotions spiraling out of control as he lost the ability to calmly deal with just one more of Elrohir’s little disasters. Just why couldn’t the crazy elf realize that they were on the same side for once?! His renewed determination to be patient fell aside when he’d seen their meal on the ground and his little brother struggling with his twin over a stupid cloth! Furious at having to deal with one more setback, Elladan gave in to his overpowering feelings.

“By the Valar, Elrohir! Look what you’ve done! We have nothing to eat because of you!” he shouted. “I am sick of this! Can you not behave for once and stop being so dammed difficult?!”

He grabbed the cloth that both Elrohir and Aragorn had been holding and pulled it out of their hands. Elrohir cried out as the cloth was yanked across his burns and it was only at this point that Elladan saw the raw burns on Elrohir’s palms and the blisters already beginning to form on the backs of his hands. He dropped the cloth in shock as he heard his twin’s voice for the first time and also finally saw what was really happening with refined clarity.

Elrohir’s reactions were not at all unpredictable. Pain from his hands along with the distress from having Elladan, his ‘Dan’, yelling at him, instantly pushed him back down into his world of fear and darkness. He had been trying so hard to convince himself that his brothers’ anger and hatred were really just phantoms in his mind and that he should trust both of them. But that had all just changed. This angry elf in front of him was no phantom nightmare and, ignoring for the moment the pain from the burns, he scrambled back from the fire and then without any warning, leapt into the trees and was gone.

He had moved so fast that Elladan and Aragorn were left briefly stunned before they both dropped everything and raced after their brother--Aragorn on the ground while Elladan took to the trees. Precious moments had been lost, though, and Elrohir had an enormous head start for an elf. He may have forgotten just about everything he’d ever known before, but with an elf’s instincts, he still remembered how to move through the trees swiftly without leaving any trace. And unlike his previous escape attempts, Elrohir was not running in a drug-induced blind panic. His mind was sharply focused as he whisked through the trees--he knew exactly what he was doing and before long, had left the others far behind.

Afternoon turned to dusk and dusk slowly to evening as Elladan and Aragorn scoured the forest. Meeting back up every hour or so, they carefully planned their search and hunted for clues to their brother’s path. At dark it was obvious that they’d completely lost Elrohir’s trail, however, and they returned to their campsite, despondent and tired.

As the two prepared their evening meal, Aragorn found himself in the strange position of having to play “big brother” to Elladan. This was such a reversal of roles that he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. He had to try, though. Elladan was in great need of some good advice as he sat by the fire and dejectedly stirred the pot.

Elladan couldn’t believe how brainless he’d been! Elrohir wasn’t being difficult, he had just had an accident. His brother had been in pain and instead of giving him help, he had yelled at him! He certainly hadn’t deserved that! Elladan kicked himself mentally and cursed his impatience over and over as he thought of his twin, now hurt and alone out in the forest. And it was all his fault!

“Stop what?” was the terse response. Elladan didn’t even look up as he kept stirring their dinner.

“Stop beating yourself up. Stop thinking of things you should have done differently. Stop blaming yourself that Elrohir is missing. Stop....well, just stop it all. We will find him!” said Aragorn firmly. Now was not the time for Elladan to start acting depressed. They both would need to be at their very best tomorrow in order to continue their search for Elrohir.

Elladan dropped the spoon as he looked at his brother, his expression one of pure self-loathing. “Estel, do you not understand?” he asked harshly. “I did exactly what you warned me against! You yelled at him and after that you could not get him to trust you. Now I’ve done even worse--I yelled at him when he was hurt and he has run off because of it! I knew better. You told me what would happen but I let my impatience and anger destroy my judgment. And even if you had not warned me, I still knew better! I was stupid and now Elrohir is off on his own, defenseless, hurt, and it is my fault!”

Aragorn listened to his brother’s ranting without interruption. In fact, sadly everything he was saying was true, so there was little hope he could make his brother feel better by denying it. No. He had to think of some other way to pull Elladan out of this bout of self-hate.

He carefully picked his words, “You are right, Elladan. You should not have yelled at Elrohir. It was the wrong thing to do, but you misunderstood what was happening and I know just how frustrating he can be. Remember, you are speaking to the one who finally had to tie him up to keep him under control! Trust me...I know!” He gave a small laugh, “Truthfully, I am not sure why we are so surprised at how aggravating Elrohir has been. Honestly, even before all this, he could still be the most stubborn elf I ever ran across. Well, other than a certain twin of his, of course!” he finished with a sideways glance at his brother.

Elladan’s initial response was an angry glare, but after a few quiet seconds, a reluctant hint of a smile graced Elladan’s lips. He knew what Estel was doing, of course, trying to distract him. But, after a moment, he had to admit it was working--as he thought back, his smile grew a bit wider. Maybe the twins had been stubborn one or two times in the past. Very well...maybe much more than one or two times. But it was never just to be obstinate or annoying. The things that they stood firm about were always things that mattered! Well...maybe sometimes those things only mattered to them, but...

Deciding to play along, Elladan glanced over at his brother who was watching him hopefully. “Surely you are not implying that Elrohir and I can be stubborn?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Never!” was the response. “I would never imply that! Rather...I am asserting it.”

Aragorn ducked as his brother tried to cuff him and grinned when he saw Elladan rolling his eyes as he smiled. Mission accomplished!

“Alright, Estel, enough!” said Elladan. “I am done moping for the moment.” He sighed deeply before continuing, “But I still am quite angry with myself. Elrohir needs to be here with us, not running around alone in the forest.”

“Aye,” answered Aragorn, “but you saw how quickly he got away from us. If nothing else, that tells me that he can take care of himself better, perhaps, than I had realized. We were always able to outthink him and catch him before...I believe the drugs have worn off enough now that he is capable of much more than we had thought.”

“Perhaps...but did you get a good look at Elrohir’s hands? I fear he was badly injured and the burns should be treated right away. And how can he protect himself from the night predators? Even without the injuries, he has no weapons and I do not know that he remembers how to take the basic precautions,” said Elladan with worry.

Aragorn nodded with a grimace. There was really nothing to say to that. The burns had looked bad and he, too, was concerned about the dangers that could overtake the unaware. However, wanting to change the subject before Elladan once more got bogged down in guilt, he said, “That stew looks tasty and I am starving. Is it ready?”

Elladan huffed in exasperation at the painfully obvious attempt to change the subject. He shook his head and started to continue his thoughts about what could be awaiting a vulnerable elf in the forest but then stopped. Finally accepting that dwelling on things wouldn’t make them any better, he answered with forced patience, “Yes, Estel...the stew is ready. Give me your bowl and I will pour you some.”

Without another word, the brothers concentrated on eating their meal since they actually were quite famished--they never had eaten anything for lunch and their long hunt in the afternoon had been grueling, both physically and emotionally. While eating the nourishing meal, though, each was careful to keep to themselves the thought that Elrohir must be hungry as well. They tried to enjoy their food without letting that thought spoil it for them and once they’d cleaned up after the evening meal, they both climbed under their blankets and after a few murmured words of good-night, tried to sleep.

In just a few, short minutes, Elladan could tell that his little brother had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep. As tired as he was, though, sleep eluded Elladan until well into the night. As he lay there, staring at the stars, Elladan found himself wondering just where Elrohir was and if he was warm and safe. After long hours of helpless worry, though, exhaustion finally dragged the elf into well-deserved slumber, his last conscious thought before falling asleep a soft whisper into the night air, “Hold on, Ro. I swear I will find you. Just...stay safe!”

If the brothers had only known, Elrohir wasn’t far away from them at all. He was, in fact, perched high in a tree almost within sight of his two disheartened brothers.

Elrohir had raced through the trees as fast as he could when he’d run from his companions, spurred on by both fear as well as a touch of anger. He had actually thought that Elladan cared for him, but instead of helping when he’d been hurt, the other elf had just yelled at him!! He wanted to get as far as possible from that ‘so-called’ brother of his and with his elven stamina even considering his injury, he may have continued for hours and ended up leagues away from his traveling companions. However, a lucky--well, lucky depending on how you looked at it--accident prevented him from leaving the others too far behind.

As the initial shock had worn off and the adrenaline faded, the pain from Elrohir’s hands had come back with a vengeance. Thus, his use of hand holds became more and more tenuous as he flew between the branches, leading him to completely miss a key grasp and, overbalancing, crash through the trees to the ground below.

Whump! ‘Oh...oowwww!’ thought Elrohir as he lay flat on his back, 30 feet below where he’d been just seconds before. He lay without moving for several minutes as his dazed senses slowly came back into focus. As he looked up, he watched the casual movement of small bits of leaves and dust as they floated down from the tree above him, little pieces of debris disturbed by his unceremonious descent out of the treetops. Hmmm...the sunlight certainly was lovely filtering through the thick branches...and look how the breeze was rippling those leaves... He shook his head sharply as he tried to focus. Now was not the time to be lying on his back enjoying the sights.

‘Alright, my friend,’ he thought as he forced himself to think. ‘Just what did you do to yourself this time?’

One by one, Elrohir carefully moved his limbs, making sure that he hadn’t broken anything during his unexpected trip to the ground. Right leg...unharmed. Left leg...ohhh...nasty gash along the calf, but nothing broken. Right arm...rather sore shoulder, but no major problem. Left arm....whew... again nothing broken. He was beginning to think he’d come out of the whole thing relatively unscathed when he tried to sit up and then quickly fell back down with a gasp. Mmmm...maybe a cracked rib or two. He remembered falling across a large branch on his way down. Not good! He reached over with his hand to feel along his ribs and then cried out as the pain of the burns reasserted itself. Idiot! How could he have forgotten his hands? Maybe he wasn’t quite as clear minded as he’d thought.

After a few more minutes of deep breathing while he once more centered himself, Elrohir carefully, slowly pulled himself up onto his elbows and gingerly using two fingertips on his right hand--the only part of his hand that wasn’t burned--pulled up his tunic to look at his ribs. He could see a glorious bruise already forming, but that told him nothing that he didn’t already know. He prodded the area, again with his fingertips, but other than a sharp pain, couldn’t determine anything--probably just cracked and not broken, but still bad enough to be quite a nuisance to a lone elf, stuck in the middle of nowhere with no friends, no food, and no place to go.

He fell back, instantly regretting the move as dozens of little bruises and scrapes made themselves known. Oh, this was absurd!! Had he always been so useless on his own? Less than an hour without the others and he’d already managed to fall out of a tree! He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he was convinced that elves just weren’t supposed to fall out of trees. He didn’t think of himself as clumsy, but he certainly couldn’t prove it after today. First the scalding pot and now this. Sigh...probably how he’d ended up as a slave in the first place...doing something equally senseless. He allowed himself to wallow in several more moments of self-disgust before he decided that just laying there wasn’t helping anything.

With the stubborn determination that his brothers knew all too well, Elrohir rolled over, pushed himself up to his knees using his elbows instead of his hands, and then shakily got to his feet. He felt a lot better standing up instead of viewing the world from the flat of his back. As he looked down at himself, he couldn’t help shaking his head. Oh...he had made such a mess of his nice new clothes. Dirt, rips, tears, and now a lovely blood stain from the gash in his leg had effectively ruined his new outfit. He briefly wondered what Elladan would say about it--after all, these were his clothes. Probably would be angry. If he became furious over a spilled dinner, who knew what he’d do about seeing his gift destroyed.

Elrohir continued to take stock of his injuries now that he was standing. Other than his hands, the most immediate problem was the deep wound in his leg that continued to bleed. He briefly wondered what he should do about it and how he could staunch the flow, but quickly realized that anything he tried to do would require the use of his hands--something that simply wasn’t an option at the moment. Hoping the injury would clot by itself and stop bleeding on its own, he reluctantly decided to neglect it as he turned his thoughts to his situation.

The young elf leaned against a tree as he considered his predicament--he knew he was in a bind. He simply had nowhere to go and even without the additional injuries from the fall, he had been in bad shape from the burns on his hands. He briefly thought about going back...but could he trust his companions? The young man Estel, now that he thought about it, had probably been trying to help him after he’d so stupidly grabbed that pot. But Elladan...Elladan had shouted in anger and had even made his injury worse when he’d ripped the cloth over the burns. The sense of betrayal hurt more even than his injuries and that was what finally determined Elrohir’s actions. He staggered away from the tree and took a few shaky steps forward before he found his balance, but then managed to bury the pain in the back of his mind and continued almost steadily down the path away from his brothers.

He walked on for another hour or so, but then suddenly stopped dead on the path. What was he doing? He quite honestly had nowhere to go. The pain from his injuries was having a beneficial side effect--it kept his mind sharply focused on the present, which in turn was helping him think through his current situation. He was hurt, he was hungry, he had no weapons, and of course, he had no understanding of who he really was and thus, no idea of who his friends were or where he should run to. As he grimly reflected on these stark realities, Elrohir reluctantly decided that he’d have to turn back. Friend or foe, his traveling companions were really the only people he knew other than the hostile group at the farm and he certainly wasn’t going to go back there.

He circled back around until he could hear Elladan and Aragorn tearing through the forest searching for him. Keeping far enough away that they couldn’t spot him but near enough that he felt certain that he wouldn’t lose track of them, he played a bizarre game of hide-and-seek the rest of the day until his brothers gave up and went back to their camp for the night.

Yes, by the end of the long day, the hunters were understandably dejected when they had to stop for the night, but the hunted was miserable as well. By nightfall, Elrohir was one unhappy elf. Now exhausted from his efforts to stay just out of sight of his brothers all day, he painfully made his way up into the branches of a tree in order to stay safe from the forest’s night predators. It took him nearly an hour to make his way up to a sturdy resting spot. Between his hands, which he couldn’t use and tried to ignore how much they hurt; his ribs, which protested every time he even moved; and his leg, which had stopped bleeding but was now throbbing mercilessly, he was having more trouble than the smallest elfling would in climbing the tree. Eventually, he did make his goal, no doubt due to that stubborn determination that had seen him through many previous trials in his life, and huddled there all night. He couldn’t get comfortable, however, not with his hunger and his hands hurting more and more with each passing minute. Several times during the long night he even considered joining his brothers in their camp, especially when the smell of their dinner wafted over to him, but memories of Elladan shouting at him kept resurfacing and prevented him from giving into his impulses.

By the end of the night, though, Elrohir wasn’t thinking about being yelled at. He wasn’t thinking about his empty stomach either or even his ribs or leg. He wasn’t thinking about anything except his hands. The pain had grown exponentially and he was in agony. His years as a slave had taught Elrohir to bear almost any pain in stoic silence, but he simply couldn’t ignore it any longer. The tops of his hands had large blisters where the stew had splashed on them, while his palms had deep burns that had been made even worse when the skin had been scraped raw as he’d torn through the trees. Desperately trying to think of anything other than the sheer misery of those burns, he spent the night curled up in the tree as the fiery pain slowly seared the last of the drugs from his mind.

After eternal, sleepless hours, Elrohir was dimly aware of movements from the nearby camp in the early morning light. He was completely exhausted and knew he needed help. Badly. His mind totally clear for the first time in forever, he knew that regardless of yesterday’s yelling incident, he would have to trust his traveling companions. Unless he wished to perish alone, he simply had no other options.

Having decided that he had to rejoin Elladan and Estel, he soon came to an unhappy conclusion. He was now too weak to climb out of the tree and he was much too high to jump. What a mortifying situation! He would need their help to just get out of the tree! Sighing at what a stupid predicament this was, he sat quietly for a moment while trying to summon up enough energy to call for help. He felt a momentary flicker of humor as he thought of his brothers’ reactions when they heard him. He hadn’t said a word to either of them in all the time they’d been together, which in the case of Estel was almost three months, and now he was calling out to them to get him out of a tree. Well, he hoped he wouldn’t slip back into one of those hazy times and say something bizarre that would get him into trouble. He had been going under the assumption that silence was far safer when you found your mind wandering all the time and you couldn’t trust yourself to stay focused on the present. It was a firm survival habit he’d decided on early on as a slave and hadn’t been ready to give up until now.

Slowly, Elrohir eased himself up, careful not to bang his hands on anything and wincing as the movement caused his damaged ribs to protest. Focus...focus...he told himself, as the pain of just moving threatened to tip him into oblivion. He breathed deeply and then cleared his throat.

Irritated with himself, Elrohir tried again, “Dan...” Louder this time, the young elf waited for a moment to see if the others had heard him before trying a third time, “Dan!”

Back at the camp, the two brothers had been grimly preparing for another day of searching when Elladan suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He thought he’d heard something....

Aragorn was instantly on alert. He knew he didn’t have the senses that his elven brothers did, so he’d learned to trust that if they noted something, it was best to get prepared. Slowly easing his sword from the scabbard, he said questioningly, “Elladan?...”

The older twin remained still as he strained to hear. Holding up a hand to keep Estel quiet, he whispered, “Wait...”

Then without any further notice, he whirled around and tore off through the trees, reminiscent of Elrohir’s sudden departure the day before.

“I wish they’d say something before they did that,” grumbled an irritated Aragorn as he took off after his brother.

Elladan raced through the forest, following the sound he’d heard. He prayed that wishful thinking wasn’t causing his senses to play tricks on him, but he was sure he’d heard his brother call him. Within seconds, he’d reached the area from which he’d heard the voice and instantly found what he was looking for. His twin was sitting high up in a tree, propped up against the trunk, but alert and looking down warily at his brother.

Elladan’s thoughts and emotions whirled as he tried to quickly decide what to do. His first thought was one of profound relief and thankfulness that he’d found Elrohir. He’d spent so many hours last night sick with worry over his brother and couldn’t bear to think of spending more long, lonely months searching again. His second thought was that his twin looked terrible! He couldn’t see Elrohir’s hands, but his drawn, pale face told plainly that he was in terrible pain.

Sifting quickly through options of what to say, Elladan finally decided to stop trying to second guess how Elrohir would react and simply spoke from the heart, “Ro, I am so glad to see you. I was worried. Will you come down now?”

The older twin studied his brother as he hoped for an answer, but then Elrohir looked uncertainly at his hands and reluctantly shook his head in a negative response to his question. Hoping not to push his twin into another flight, Elladan added carefully, “If you don’t wish to come down, could I instead join you? You look as if you could use some help.”

Elrohir didn’t respond immediately as both of the twins’ attention was diverted when Aragorn burst into the clearing, brandishing his sword and ready to come to his brother’s aid against whatever foul creature was lurking about. When Aragorn saw Elladan quietly standing in the glade speaking to Elrohir, he lowered his sword, feeling a bit foolish. ‘And just why couldn’t Elladan have mentioned what he’d heard?’ his subconscious thought with exasperation. The irritation was instantly wiped out, though, as his conscious mind caught up with reality. They had found Elrohir! Diverted from his annoyance, he looked to his oldest brother, waiting for him to make the next move. “Dan?...”

After a short nod and brief smile for his little brother, Elladan turned his attention back to Elrohir and then approached the tree. He moved quietly, but not as hesitantly as he would have before--he had noted that something profound had changed in Elrohir’s eyes and the older twin felt more confident than he had since he’d first seen his brother weeks ago.

Elladan hesitated slightly when he heard his brother speak. The voice was a bit raspy from disuse, but hearing Elrohir answering him directly was wonderful! He smiled at his littlest brother, who stood stock still, staring at the two in amazement. Then, taking his cloak off and laying it on the ground, Elladan easily leapt the first several feet into the tree and in no time at all had climbed up to the branch supporting his twin.

Wariness once again flickered over Elrohir’s face as the elf approached him. He knew he needed Elladan and Estel’s help, but he hadn’t forgotten what precipitated yesterday’s flight in the first place. Past experience had proven that once someone started yelling, the next step was physical violence and he waited to see what Elladan would do. It wasn’t so much that he’d feared the mistreatment--he was used to that. No, what he’d run from yesterday and what he feared now was that this person he was coming to care for deeply had turned against him. He waited quietly for the elf’s next actions to tell him what he needed to know.

Elladan was careful to keep the dismay from his face as he looked at his twin. Elrohir looked awful! The torn clothes that showed glimpses of bruises and scrapes told him that his brother had been having a difficult time since he’d run off. But it was his hands that really worried Elladan. From what he could see, they needed attention and they needed it now.

“Elrohir, you certainly are a mess,” said Elladan with a gentle smile, “and those hands look as if they pain you. I know how to treat them, but I believe the first thing required is get you out of this tree. How about we join Estel on the ground?”

So he wasn’t angry. Elrohir relaxed a bit as he saw only loving concern in the other’s eyes. “I’m having...a bit of trouble climbing,” he said, with a touch of the dry humor that the Elrohir of old was known for.

Elladan breathed deeply as he got his emotions under control. Elrohir was conversing with him and sounding again like...Elrohir. The voice was a bit rough still, but the delivery was pure Elrohir. He allowed himself a fleeting moment to be thankful for this small sign that his brother was finally coming back to him, and then moved a bit closer to his twin.

“It is too great a distance to jump,” Elladan said, considering the long drop to the ground. “Can you not climb at all?”

Elrohir shook his head, “Nay. I get dizzy just moving and my hands are useless. I am sorry,” he added to his brother’s dismay.

Elladan grimaced, “No...don’t be sorry. You’ve done nothing wrong. Ro, it is I who should be sorry. I should never have yelled at you yesterday and I deeply regret it. I was foolish and impatient and I am truly, truly sorry. Can you forgive me?”

The younger elf absolutely had no idea what to say. So the other elf wasn’t mad, but now he was apologizing to him?! Elrohir wasn’t sure what one did in those circumstances, and so he finally just nodded cautiously.

His reward was a brilliant smile from Elladan, whose relief and joy was like a ray of sunlight after a storm. Elrohir felt it wash over him and, for the first time, gave a tentative smile of his own to his brother.

Luckily, Elladan was holding onto the branch he was sitting on, or he might have slipped off and the small denizens of the forest might have been treated to the unlikely sight of a second elf falling out of a tree. It was a shock, to say the least, to watch one’s brother go from being a perplexing shade of his former self to someone who would talk with him and now smile.

“Thank you, brother,” he said when he thought he could speak without his voice quavering. “But we are still left with the problem of getting you down.” Considering the situation, he continued, “As I see it, we have two options. The first being we work our way down, branch by branch while I steady you. The second is that I offer you a ride on my back. Have you a preference?”

Throwing caution to the winds, Elrohir decided to fully trust the elf and said, “If you are certain you can manage, I think a ride may be better. I do not believe I could make it down the other way. Even with your help, I would still fall. I haven’t the energy and my balance is shot,” he finished apologetically.

Elladan nodded, all but bursting inside with delight at each new sign that his twin was back. Elrohir was going to let him carry him! This from the elf who just scant weeks ago would become violent if even touched and still had shied away from any contact.

Moving till he was right in front of Elrohir, Elladan squatted down on the branch that his brother had straddled, studying the situation as he tried to figure out the best way to accomplish this task without either of them falling. “Can you stand?” he asked.

“Very well. Here is what we do. I will help you swing both legs to this side of the branch and then I shall stand on the limb below us. Next you slide off this branch and onto my back. And then you simply hold on while I take us down. Agreed?” asked Elladan.

Elrohir wasn’t too sure about his brother’s plan. While certainly not afraid of heights, he was wary of falling a second time and realized that there would be one tricky point when he’d have to slide himself off the branch and onto Elladan’s back while not being able to use his hands. He wasn’t confident he could do it, but given the alternative of staying in the tree, he figured he’d give it a try. “I believe that would work,” he answered.

Elladan was almost giddy as he started to put his plan into action. The joy inside him now compared with the utter despair of yesterday was making him uncharacteristically bubbly. A call from below sobered him a bit as he remembered that he had another brother on the ground. A brother who was growing more concerned with every passing moment.

“Estel!” he called down a bit sheepishly. How could he have forgotten that Estel was worried as well and waiting for word of Elrohir? “Um...things are fine up here, but Elrohir needs some assistance coming down. I am going to carry him and will be down momentarily,” he added.

Aragorn wanted to stomp in frustration. Typically a calm, cool individual, he was finding it hard at the moment to be patient. Years ago he had come to accept the fact that he wasn’t an elf and couldn’t do everything that they did. But when he was stuck on the ground...while his brothers were up in the tree...one of them hurt...both of them of course neglecting to tell him anything...! Arrgh! ‘Things were fine, but Elrohir needed assistance.’ Now what exactly was that supposed to mean? And he had heard his brothers talking up there. Talking! He had not been able to make out the words, but he was certain from the rhythm of the voices that it had been two, not one, speaking. That meant that Elrohir was joining in! Arrgh, arrgh, arrgh!!! He wanted to be with them, not waiting uselessly here on the ground!

Elladan, after his brief thoughts for Estel, put him out of his mind as he worked at getting his twin out of the tree. He grabbed Elrohir’s waist with one hand to steady him while he used his other hand to help him carefully swing his left leg over the branch. Elladan noted his brother’s quick intake of breath as he held him tightly to keep him steady--a hidden injury to his ribs, no doubt. He was also alarmed at how weak Elrohir really was--he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he was out of energy. Not a trace of his concern showed on his face, though, as he held his brother on the branch.

“Now step two,” he said matter-of-factly as he lowered himself to the branch below. “I will turn around and back up to you. Then you wrap your legs around my waist, slide off the branch, and put your arms around my neck. Then I will do the rest.”

Elladan turned around and backed up to his brother. This was the tricky part and he wasn’t as confident as he’d tried to pretend. If Elrohir slipped, he wouldn’t be able to catch him since he’d have his back to him. He twisted his head around as he tried to watch Elrohir slide off the branch. He saw with alarm that his brother was looking quite shaky and he’d almost decided to turn around and try to figure out another solution when his brother wrapped his legs around his waist and began to slowly ease off the branch.

Elrohir was finding this maneuver was quite difficult, actually, since he wasn’t able to use his hands at all to help him scoot forward. Elrohir wriggled a bit until he was right at the edge and then asked, “Ready?”

“Whenever you are, brother,” answered Elladan, thinking that this would work after all.

Elrohir put his elbows on his brother’s shoulders, careful not to let his hands touch anything, then with a shaky breath, pulled with his legs until he slipped from the branch. Elladan had been bracing himself for his brother’s weight and easily adjusted his balance.

The plan would have worked beautifully except for one thing--Elrohir was weaker than they’d both realized and started immediately to slip sideways off of Elladan’s back. In his efforts to keep his brother from falling, the older twin accidentally grabbed Elrohir’s right hand, which caused the younger elf to cry out in agony and jerk back violently. A few seconds of panicked maneuvering on Elladan’s part left Elrohir squashed up against the tree trunk while Elladan steadied the two of them. When it was all over, both twins were safe but breathing hard--one from pain and one from fear of dropping his brother.

“Elladan!” called Aragorn from the ground. He had heard the cry and had seen his brothers almost fall and was now frantic with the desire to help them. “I’m coming up!” he shouted.

“Nay!” responded Elladan once he caught his breath. “I have it under control. Just go back and get the healing kit and start some water boiling. We need to tend to these burns as soon as possible.”

Aragorn’s worry didn’t lessen at those words. Burns were a nasty injury, prone to infection and difficult to treat. Even elves, with their wondrous healing powers, took a long time to get over them. With a last glance up the tree, he raced away to their campsite to retrieve the healing kit from his pack.

Elladan moved away from the tree trunk and shifted the burden on his back slightly as he prepared himself for the climb down. Elrohir’s arms were now draped loosely around his neck and he moved his left hand to Elrohir’s right elbow, firmly grasping it to keep the elf on his back. Elrohir lay his head on his brother’s shoulder as he concentrated keeping his legs around his waist. The pain of Elladan grabbing his hand followed by his damaged ribs being crushed up against the tree had practically made him pass out and he was afraid he would soon lose the battle to stay conscious.

Elladan felt the trembling weakness of his brother as he started to make his way down the tree, keeping one hand on Elrohir’s elbow while using the other to grab onto branches on his way down. He went faster than he had been planning to, for he was certain that Elrohir wouldn’t be able to hang on for too much longer. The trip through the tree branches was nerve-wracking for Elladan, but for the most part it was uneventful. There were a couple of moments when he’d had to pause and readjust his brother on his back as his mind raced on how he could catch Elrohir if his brother’s strength ran out before they reached the ground. However, after just a short while, they reached the bottom branches quite safely. It was with profound relief that Elladan dropped the last few feet to the ground, Elrohir still managing to cling on.

Aragorn was there waiting for them at the bottom of the tree. He had flown back to their camp, grabbed the healing kit, the cook pot, a small bowl, and then rushed back just as his brothers were nearing the last few branches. When Elladan’s feet touched the ground, the young ranger was beside him, gently helping Elrohir off his back.

They were safe, but the whole experience proved too much for the wounded elf. As he felt himself being pulled off of Elladan, he knew he could finally let go and with profound relief took grateful refuge in the beckoning darkness, slumping limply in his little brother’s arms.

Aragorn caught Elrohir’s weight and slowly lowered him to the ground. “Elladan?...” he asked questioningly, frightened for his brother.

“I don’t know, Estel,” answered the worried elf. “Help me check him out.”

The brothers worked for the next few minutes in silent efficiency as they assessed Elrohir’s injuries. He had a strong heartbeat and was breathing fine, so it appeared that he had simply passed out from pain and exhaustion. Aside from various small scrapes and bruises, there were several more serious injuries that required attention. Dark bruising of Elrohir’s torso confirmed Elladan’s earlier suspicion that he’d injured his ribs. Also, a long, deep cut in his left calf would require a great deal of stitching. However, the most worrisome problem was his hands, which were a disaster! Several of the blisters had been torn open during their frantic attempt to stay in the tree and the palms of his hands were raw, bloody sores embedded with tree bark, dirt, and various pieces of forest debris.

“We must treat the worst of the wounds before he wakes. First hands, then ribs, and finally his leg,” said Elladan grimly. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause his brother pain by trying to clean out the wounds while he was conscious, so he hoped they could work quickly enough to finish their work before Elrohir regained consciousness.

The quiet efficiency of the brothers as they prepared their work area told of the years of study under Elrond’s firm guidance. The elf lord had passed on to his sons much of his healing knowledge and they both knew without question what had to be done. Aragorn had not had a chance to start the water boiling, or in fact, to even start a fire, so that was his first task. He quickly had a small, hot blaze going under the little pot and then turned to help Elladan with the rest of his preparations. The older twin had laid out his cloak as a soft surface and had rolls of clean bandages lying in the corner with the empty bowl sitting beside them. Aragorn took the bowl to the stream and filled it with fresh, clear water, and returned just as his brother finished selecting out a small pile of herbs and placing them beside the little grinding pot that the brothers kept in the healing kit. These would be used later after they combined them with boiling water and pounded them into a poultice.

Once all the preparations were complete, Elrohir was carried over to the cloak and the brothers knelt on either side of him, each taking a hand. They moved very carefully as they cleaned away the dirt and debris. Even unconscious, Elrohir could apparently still feel what was being done to him, for every once in awhile he’d try to pull one of his hands away and whimpered in pain. Each one of these sounds stabbed deep into his brothers. Both as the elven warrior of old and the more recent ex-slave, Elrohir had always been so stoic when it came to any kind of injury. For him to make any noise at all now, even unconscious, the pain had to be excruciating.

The little pot of water began to boil while the brothers were only about halfway through with their work and Aragorn stopped what he was doing, gently laying Elrohir’s left hand down on some clean bandages. He removed the water from the fire and poured some of it into the grinding pot and then with the surety of years of working with Elrond, scooped up the pile of herbs set aside earlier and added them to the water, pulverizing each one until a smooth, soft paste was formed. This had taken quite awhile, so by the time he’d finished and rejoined Elladan, the older twin had finished on Elrohir’s right hand and had taken up where Aragorn had left off on the left. Wordlessly, Aragorn started applying the healing paste onto Elrohir’s right hand, trying to be gentle, but knowing he was hurting his brother as Elrohir became more and more agitated.

The brothers worked as quickly as they could, hoping to finish before Elrohir became fully conscious. However, they were just finishing up with wrapping the last of the bandages when he began to regain consciousness. He became more and more restless as his awareness grew and he realized just how much he hurt.

“Estel, keep him quiet,” said Elladan softly. He needed to finish up with his brother’s hands and it would only make things worse if Elrohir banged anything with his hands at this point.

Aragorn put down the hand he had been wrapping and pressed on Elrohir’s shoulders lightly.

“Easy, Elrohir. Lie still,” directed Aragorn soothingly as his brother’s eyes fluttered open. He gently patted the young elf’s shoulders as he tried keep him calm. ‘Shhhh…don’t move. We are only trying to help.”

Elrohir blinked as he tried to think. It took a moment to figure out just where he was, he was so distracted…everything hurt! His ribs, his leg, his hands…what had happened?! Estel was holding him down and Elladan…he weakly lifted his head and saw his other brother working on wrapping one of his hands in a thick, white bandage while the other hand was already in a similar state. What had he done? As he lay his head back down, he suddenly remembered the cook fire and grabbing the stew pot. Oh…right. ‘Well, that was brainless!’ he reflected. He sighed in disgust at himself. Another one of “those” times. It was bad enough that he wasn’t able to make clear decisions during those times, but to be so amazingly stupid that he’d grab a boiling pot was just...amazingly stupid!

As the younger twin was cursing himself for getting into this fix in the first place, the older twin was also cursing.

“Damn,” Elladan muttered quietly under his breath. Even though the worst was done and Elrohir’s hands were taken care of for the moment, he and Estel still needed to wrap up his ribs and stitch his leg. Neither of which would be much fun while Elrohir was awake.

As he finished up with Elrohir’s hands, he looked meaningfully over at his young human brother, “Estel, could you make up a tea for Elrohir? I believe he could use a drink before we continue.”

Comprehension dawned in the ranger’s eyes as he read Elladan’s unspoken message. He was to prepare a potion to dull the pain while they bound Elrohir’s ribs and stitched up his leg wound. Their father’s “special tea” had soothed each of them countless times when they’d returned home with the various injuries that always seemed to plague them. It was quick acting and almost instantly dulled any pain--it would be perfect for providing a measure of relief to Elrohir while they finished tending to his wounds.

Since there was still hot water in the little pot, it took just moments for Aragorn to prepare the soothing tea and bring it over to the twins. Elladan had just finished wrapping his brother’s hands and reached gratefully for the cup. Elrohir lay with his eyes focused on the tree branches above them, his face white with the effort of trying to lay still and not cry out while Elladan had finished with his hands.

“I will lift his head while you give him the tea,” Elladan directed and then proceeded to carefully put one of the smaller packs under Elrohir’s head.

Elrohir looked at his brothers as they tried to make him comfortable. He gritted his teeth as the movement caused pressure on his ribs. Did everything have to hurt?! The next thing he knew, his thoughts were distracted as a cup was pressed to his lips and he automatically began to drink. After the first sip, however, he jerked his head away and cried out, “No!”

He tried to knock away the cup, forcing Elladan to trap his brother’s arms against the ground as he tried to keep him from spilling the tea or further injuring himself. If they could just get enough of the tea in Elrohir, the herbs would numb him almost immediately. He was sure his twin was fighting because of the pain, so he hoped they’d be successful rather quickly. “Shhh….” he tried to calm his brother.

Aragorn attempted again to make Elrohir drink, but the stubborn elf turned his head away and refused to open his mouth. “No,” he said.

“Lie still you crazy elf!” chimed in Elladan with amused exasperation as he fought to keep his twin still. “We are not trying to poison you.”

Soon, Aragorn was forced to put down the cup as he was needed to help keep Elrohir still. Elladan was concentrating on keeping his hands from further harm, so Aragorn pressed his shoulders back to pin him to the ground. Once he’d successfully trapped him, Elladan grabbed the cup and once more tried to force his twin to drink. He managed to pour just a small amount of the liquid down his throat before Elrohir began to choke on it and twisted his head away.

“Ro, this is foolish! You must drink it! It’s just to dull the pain while we stitch up your leg. Please stop fighting us,” begged his twin.

“No…” the younger elf responded with a catch in his voice that could only be fear.

“Ro, I promise, this won’t hurt you. It doesn’t even taste that bad!” cajoled his determined brother, not exactly truthfully, since the brew was rather nasty and all the brothers despised taking it.

Prying his brother’s jaw open, Elladan poured in a bit more before he saw tears glistening in his twin’s eyes. He pulled the cup away in dismay. Dismay that was magnified a hundred times over as he finally understood Elrohir’s reluctance when he heard the almost silent plea, “Please, no drugs…”

Someone may as well have just kicked Elladan and Aragorn in the stomach. They exchanged horror-filled looks as they realized what they had been doing. How could they have tried to drug Elrohir without his consent? After all he’d been through? Even though the tea had very different effects than whatever had been given to the young elf before, it was still something that would affect his responses and dull his senses. Clearly something that Elrohir should have a say in.

Elladan motioned for Aragorn to let their brother go and then lightly held him down with a hand on his chest while he quickly said, “I am sorry, Ro. So sorry. I should have explained. We are not trying to drug you, honest. It was only for pain. Please rest easy--we will not force it on you. Although...I do wish you would consider drinking it.”

Elrohir looked up at him apprehensively as he fought to calm himself. He didn’t care if they cut off his leg while he watched. He would not submit to being drugged again. Ever!

“Just…do what you need to without it,” Elrohir said with feeling. “I won’t fight you. But please…do not drug me!”

“Ro,” Elladan tried one last time, “your leg requires stitches and it will hurt when we wrap your ribs. This is Ada’s tea. It will only dull the pain and does not last more than a few hours. Please reconsider taking it.”

He knew the answer even before Elrohir responded. The stubborn look on his face was too purely Elrohir-refusing-to-give-in to be mistaken for anything else.

“Nay, I do not wish it,” said Elrohir, even as he winced from the abrupt, fierce throb in his leg. Obviously, struggling with his brothers hadn’t done his wounds any good. Suddenly too tired to fight or even talk any longer, he closed his eyes lightly and tried to breath through the pain of his various injuries.

Elladan and Aragorn exchanged wry looks as they got out the supplies for their next job, taping Elrohir’s ribs. They should have known that their middle brother would have found something to be difficult about. He always was the worst patient!

Knowing they wouldn’t win the battle to convince him to take the tea and unwilling to force him, they both worked efficiently together to take care of his ribs. Without further words, the two brothers actually managed to wrap Elrohir’s ribs without too much difficulty. The younger twin was clearly in pain, but they did the best they could to work quickly.

His leg, though, was a different story. Not only was the gash deep and long, reaching nearly knee to ankle, but it was completely embedded with dried blood and dirt. They’d have to wash it out thoroughly before they could try to stitch it, and neither of them looked forward to doing that while Elrohir was feeling everything they did.

Aragorn decided to try just once more before they started. “Elrohir, we’re ready to do your leg now. Please take some more of the tea. It will make it so much easier for you,” he pleaded.

By now, Elrohir was one miserable creature! He almost couldn’t think straight due to the pain in his hands. And the session he’d just been through to get his ribs taped had left him breathless and exhausted. And now…now he was being pestered again to take those damn drugs!! Instead of answering his brother, he simply gave him an angry glare. He was NOT going to take drugs if he had any say in it!

“Very well,” said Aragorn raising both hands in surrender. “We’ll…try to be careful.”

He looked dejectedly over at Elladan, who wore an equally upset expression. Neither moved to start on the leg. Neither wanted to be the first one to hurt their brother.

Finally, Elladan was the one who sighed and pulled the water bowl down to Elrohir's legs. Like it or not, it had to be done and he would do it. Having made up his mind to start, he went quickly to work. He used his boot knife to swiftly slit the legging up to the knee and then moving it aside, gazed thoughtfully at the wound. He made himself simply look at it objectively and ignored the fact that this was his brother, his twin lying there waiting for him to hurt him. The cut was a bad one. It looked like it had been caught on something rough and then torn down jaggedly. While it actually wasn't as worrisome wound as Elrohir's hands, it was going to be harder to tend to since his twin would be feeling everything they did.

The older twin spoke grimly to his youngest brother, "I wil need you to hold his leg down. Do not let him move it around too much while I work on it. I do not wish to make anything worse."

Aragorn nodded his understanding as he took his place. With one hand on his brother's ankle and another on his knee, he said unhappily, "I am ready."

Gritting his teeth, Elladan dipped a clean cloth in the water bowl and carefully started to wipe off the dirt and blood from his twin's leg. Methodically, he worked his way from the top of the wound to the bottom, forcing himself to disregard the way Elrohir would gasp from time to time or make small movements as if he were keeping himself from jerking away. No, he couldn't think about how much he was hurting Elrohir. He was merely a healer taking care of a patient. For the moment, that was all he could be. If he allowed himself to acknowledge his twin's pain, he knew he'd be unable to help him. So, he concentrated on just doing what needed to be done and after a long while, finally finished.

As difficult as cleaning the wound was, the next step was going to be even harder for all involved. Elladan briefly considered asking Estel to stitch up the leg, but instantly dismissed the idea. 'Coward!' he thought to himself. He couldn't ask his little brother to do what he was unwilling to do himself. Pulling out needle and thread, he sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself to begin.

Before he could begin, however, Elladan felt a light touch on his arm. Estel caught his eyes and then nodded toward Elrohir, who Elladan could see was looking intently at them both. Elrond had drummed into them that there was much more to healing than simply tending to wounds. And now, from the tired, pain-filled, apprehensive look he was getting from his twin, it seemed like Elrohir was needing a different kind of attention before they moved on to the next step. Perhaps just a bit of reassurance. Putting aside the needle and thread for a moment, Elladan slid up near his twin's head and gently smoothed his hair off his sweaty brow. "How are you doing?" he asked softly.

The younger twin relaxed a bit as he felt the loving gesture from his brother. How should he answer, though? Frankly, he felt like hell! And to be even more frank, he wasn't looking forward to what was coming next at all. Still, for some reason he couldn't bring himself to say that. What he finally managed was, "I am fine."

"You are being brave," said Elladan in almost a whisper. He ran the back of his hand down Elrohir's cheek. Despite the gravity of the situation, he allowed himself to momentarily feel the delight of being able to show his twin some form of affection. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd have pulled him into a hug next, but felt that Elrohir might still shy away from that. Instead, he said quietly, "You hold on for just a bit longer. We will be done soon."

Elrohir gave his brother a look that expressed all the mixed up feelings coursing through him: gratitude, affection, confusion, exhaustion, pain, shame, apprehension, and even fear. Elladan clearly understood them all, for he allowed himself to give his twin a quick kiss on the forehead and said, “Everything will be alright, I promise. We will be careful, but if the pain is more than you can bear, just cry out. There is no shame.” After a few more moments stroking his brother’s forehead, he continued, “Are you ready now?”

The exhausted elf looked deep into his brother’s eyes and nodded, even giving his brother a small smile. Then, he closed his eyes, once again trying to center his awareness on anything other than what was about to happen. He felt Elladan move back down to his legs and tried hard to keep relaxed.

He managed to do all right for the first stitch...and the second...and even the third. The fourth stitch was pulling together a wider part of the wound, though, and Elladan had to tug it a bit harder to get the ends to close evenly. A small moan escaped Elrohir's lips before he could prevent it. Oh…that…hurt! His eyes flew open when he realized that Elladan hadn’t continued. He saw both brothers looking at him with worry and concern, so he said breathlessly, “I am fine. Fine. Please...just finish.” After that, he concentrated and allowed no more sound to pass his lips. After all, this was something he was a master at after his years of silent existence.

By the time the brothers finished, there wasn’t one person in the camp who wasn’t shaking with tension and exhaustion. It had been just as hard for Elladan and Aragorn to be working on their brother, knowing with certainty that they were hurting him, as it was for Elrohir to bear the pain in silence. But at last, the wound was clean, stitched, and bandaged and they could all rest.

Aragorn was the first to move, getting shakily to his feet and picking up the water bowl, now filled with bloody, dirty water. “I will fetch some fresh water,” he stated and headed toward the creek.

Elladan didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. He was so wrung out that all he could do for the moment was sit there, grateful beyond measure that he was done.

When Aragorn returned moments later with a clean bowl of water, Elladan simply watched him as he pulled out their last fresh cloth and dipped it in the clear, cool water. He wrung out the cloth and then gently wiped the sweat and grime off of Elrohir's face. The exhausted elf hadn’t the energy to speak, but the look of gratitude he gave his little brother spoke volumes.

“It is all over,” murmured Aragorn soothingly. “You should rest now and regain your strength. Shhh…just rest,” he added as he continued his ministrations by wiping the cool, wet cloth over Elrohir’s face and neck.

By this point, Elladan had gathered up his own strength and joined his brother near Elrohir’s head.

“How are you doing, Ro? Can I get you anything?” asked Elladan gently, fleetingly wishing he was the one soothing his twin with the cloth.

Elrohir found it hard to think. Hard to do anything other than just lay there and breath. Everything hurt. The actual injuries, of course, but even the places that hadn’t been injured…hurt. He had been so tense for so long that his muscles ached from the strain. One overriding need, however, broke through and he summoned up enough strength to ask, “Water…”

Of course! Elladan mentally kicked himself for not thinking about how thirsty his brother would be. He probably hadn’t had much to drink since he’d run off and certainly the blood loss meant that he’d be needing extra liquids.

Elladan smiled down at him and with a, “I will be right back,” left, returning directly with a small cup of fresh water. He and Aragorn gently helped Elrohir sit up, but then had to quickly catch him as it became clear that he was too weak to hold himself up at all. He swallowed hard as Aragorn helped him pull Elrohir into his arms. He ignored his own shaking arms and, cradling his brother gently, Elladan helped him drink from the cup. After he’d had his fill, he set the cup aside, but he couldn’t let go of his twin. He couldn’t lay him back down. Instead, carefully, slowly, tenderly he wrapped him in a hug. He closed his eyes in thankfulness as he rested his cheek against the dark hair of his brother and murmured in his ear the quiet words he’d wanted to say ever since he’d found his twin. Aragorn, watching the two, had to turn away in order to get his emotions under control as he saw a single tear trickle down Elladan’s cheek. He couldn’t imagine what his oldest brother was feeling as at long, long last, he held his dear twin in his arms.

Chapter 7, Returning Home

The young lords of Rivendell stayed for well over two weeks in the small clearing next to where Elrohir had been found. It was far from being an ideal campsite--it was too close to a game path, there was inadequate shelter from the elements, and the little clearing was much too small for the three of them to set up a proper camp. But there was no mention made of moving. Elladan and Aragorn’s thoughts were only on caring for their brother while Elrohir, of course, was in no shape to do anything but lay there and accept their care.

The first few days after the brothers found Elrohir were mind-numbing, exhausting, tortuous days that tried the soul. Elrohir tossed restlessly in agony, but would simply not allow his brothers to ease his pains with any of their soothing herbs. Nothing they said could convince him to take the potion that they prepared over and over as they tried to reassure him of its innocent affects. Only when from time to time the obstinate elf would fall into an exhausted sleep could his two brothers take a break from the constant care he required. Even so, their nerves were raw with the helpless knowledge that they were unable to properly aid their brother.

“Elladan, I do not know if I can take this much longer,” said Aragorn in a low tone after a particularly frustrating episode with Elrohir. “Not only does it hurt me inside to see him in such a state, but you must realize that Elrohir cannot heal properly when he is allowed no relief from his pain. We must convince him to take something.”

Lord Elrond’s eldest son regarded his human brother with a troubled expression. Elladan also knew that the healing power of the elves required an intricate weave between physical and spiritual healing. If proper balance were not achieved between the two, it would be a much, much harder road to recovery for his twin. He saw his brother’s energy fading almost in front of his eyes as he chose to endure constant pain in silence, not allowing his spirit any sense of peace or well-being. Elladan wasn’t sure how much more his brother could take and agreed with Estel that somehow this had to stop, but he was still unwilling to force Elrohir to take the much-needed herbal tea.

He looked over at his twin, who was thankfully sleeping at the moment. What would their father do? Would he force Elrohir to take it anyway? Sometimes a healer had to do things for a patient that were in their best interest, even if they protested. But this was different. Given Elrohir’s experiences, Elladan just couldn’t force him to take a mind-numbing drug. That would be too much like his days as a slave when he had no control over his life and could trust no one. In his heart, Elladan knew that forcing his twin to take the tea would destroy the fragile relationship the three had been building, something he just wouldn’t do. So slowly, he shook his head despondently.

“We must give him more time, Estel,” Elladan told his brother. “He will eventually come to trust us and perhaps then we can convince him, but for now we will just have to do the best we can without it.”

“But Elladan,” protested Aragorn, “he needs it now. I fear he will not heal properly, or perhaps not at all, if he does not get rest. You must realize that he has grown weaker rather than stronger.”

“I know,” Elladan said grimly. “But we will wait.”

Aragorn turned from his brother in exasperation with a touch of anger. He was afraid that he’d say something he’d regret if he continued, so he clamped his lips shut in frustration. He understood what Elladan was saying, but didn’t agree at all with his decision to wait. Elrohir certainly wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make the final decision to not take the tea. After all his experiences, he just didn’t know what was best for him. And Elladan…well, Elladan was simply too close to his twin to see things clearly. They were making the wrong decision, and Aragorn was getting angry that he couldn’t do anything about it. However, despite what he thought about their choice, he wasn’t ready to go against them both and force Elrohir anyway. Finally, he just walked away from the discussion rather than risk getting in to a fight with Elladan. It was a tense and unhappy camp the rest of the evening as the brothers avoided each other and finally went to bed.

--------------------------

The following day dawned bright and clear. It was the kind of day that all three of them usually loved, but this time it followed a long, sleepless night and none of them was in the mood to enjoy the lovely morning. After much reflection, however, Aragorn had finally decided to accept the twin’s decision with grace and went about his morning chores in a much better frame of mind than when he’d gone to bed. After greeting Elladan pleasantly, he went over to Elrohir to see to his needs.

He had a hard time not saying anything when he saw the young elf. Elrohir was lying there, completely spent, lines of pain etched in his face, looking so wrung out that he seemed barely able to follow Aragorn’s progress with his eyes.

Forcing himself to appear more cheerful than he felt, Aragorn addressed his brother, “Good morning.” Not getting a response, he continued, “How are you feeling?” This was more to make conversation than to determine his brother’s state. It was clear that Elrohir had had a bad night.

Elrohir focused his attention on his brother, hoping against hope that it wasn’t time to change the bandages on his hands again. He understood the need--burns were a tricky injury that required meticulous care to prevent infection. But understanding the necessity didn’t mean that it wouldn't hurt just as much. Estel’s next words crushed his hopes, however.

“It’s time to see to those hands again,” Aragorn said lightly. “Would you like something to eat first or perhaps to drink?”

Aragorn looked hopefully at his brother, but was disappointed when Elrohir shook his head. The ranger sighed deeply. Elrohir had eaten nothing since his injury and wouldn’t take much to drink either. Just one more indication of how his injuries were draining him. If only he’d allow them to treat him properly!

Knowing better to begin that fight again, though, Aragorn said, “Very well. Then I had better start.”

As Aragorn took the first of Elrohir’s hands, the elf tried to pull it away weakly. Oh please! He wasn’t ready to have the bandages changed again. That always caused the pain to increase tenfold and he just couldn’t face that right now. Not now. Maybe after awhile when he’d had a chance to rest, but not now. “No. Not yet,” he protested in quiet desperation.

The ranger looked at his brother in sympathy, “Elrohir, I know this is unpleasant, but it must be done.”

Unpleasant! Too tired to even glare at his brother for that incredible understatement, Elrohir tried again unsuccessfully to pull his hand away. “No, not now,” he whispered pleadingly. “Later.”

Aragorn looked helplessly at their older brother who was watching silently. The bandages had to be changed, but the young ranger’s nerves were frayed after days of worrying and he wasn’t sure he could go through the session of hurting his brother while he was protesting. “Help,” he mouthed wordlessly to Elladan.

Elladan rubbed his eyes wearily. He had barely slept at all in the past several days and the few hours he did get clearly weren’t enough. He was so exhausted that he was having a hard time figuring out what needed to be done. But he knew this couldn’t continue. Somehow, he’d have to get through to his twin--for all their sakes. Taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly, he walked over to his brothers and then knelt down next to them, placing one hand on Elrohir's shoulder.

“Elrohir,” he said quietly, “This has to stop. You must let us help you properly and that means taking Ada’s tea. I understand why you protest against it. I promise I do. But you must understand that we are not trying to harm you. The tea will only aid in your healing as you will be able to rest without pain. We can change the bandages and you will hardly feel it. Does that not sound wonderful? We can prepare some right now if you will agree to take it…..please say yes.”

The wounded elf closed his eyes tightly as he turned his head away. Oh, how tempting it was to give in and find an escape from the pain. He couldn’t imagine anything more heavenly than to slip into a painless oblivion. But…but to be honest he was scared. He was scared that he’d lose control of his thoughts and would be forced back into that world of confusion where he’d have to fight once more the nightmare unrealities that invaded his thoughts. Ever since he’d been burned, his mind had been miraculously clear. Being able to think clearly was such a priceless gift that he was unwilling to risk losing it. No. Enticing as it was, he just couldn’t allow himself to be drugged again. Chancing a glance at his brothers, he was sorry to see the misery on both their faces, but couldn’t say yes. He hoped they’d understand, but finally whispered, “No. I cannot. I am sorry.”

Aragorn slumped in disappointment and misery. So…they’d have to go through the ritual of changing the bandages again while trying to ignore just how much torment they were adding to the already weak and pain-wracked elf. If he’d thought it was proper for rangers to cry, he’d have done so right then, so heartsick was he.

Elladan, however, wasn’t ready to give up. This time, somehow, he’d find a way to get through. Elrohir wasn’t the only twin known for stubbornness!

“Elrohir,” he said cupping his brother’s face in his hands and forcing him to look in his eyes. “You must hear me.” When he could see that he had Elrohir’s full attention, he continued earnestly. “Brother, know that I love you. There is nothing in Arda I would not do to care for you. No foe I would not fight to keep you safe. No joy that I would deny you. And there is nothing I would ever knowingly do to harm you. This tea that we wish you to drink, I will be honest, will affect your senses. Things will seem somewhat out of focus and a bit dull. But that is all it will do to your thoughts. It will not distort reality so you cannot trust your senses. It will not create visions to haunt you. And besides, it will only last a few hours. But those hours will allow you to rest peacefully and regain your strength. Elrohir, it will take away the pain.”

He saw that Elrohir was listening carefully, but saw no acceptance, so he added, almost begging, “Ro, throughout our lives we have done many things for each other. Countless times we have done things just because the other wished it. And now, I’m going to ask you for one more favor. For me, please, please give me your trust…trust us…and drink the tea.”

Elrohir looked into Elladan’s eyes and then those of his other brother. What should he do? He did trust these two. Now that he could think clearly, he knew he could and did trust them with his life. But the possibility of losing control once more…not knowing what was real and what was not…how could he risk that? Would anything be worth that risk? Looking back into Elladan’s face and then Estel’s, he unexpectedly found his answer. He saw such profound sadness there that he could no longer bear it. Not when he knew that he was the one who put it there. These two had done so much for him. If he could show them how grateful he was in this small way, he would count it worth the risk. So slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.

“Yes? You will take it?” Elladan asked in surprise. Determined though he was, he had anticipated a much longer battle and honestly wasn’t too sure if he would be able to convince his stubborn twin. Either Elrohir could no longer take the pain, or he trusted them more than he’d even hoped. Knowing Elrohir’s seemingly endless capacity to bear anything in stoic silence, he joyfully concluded that it was the latter. Somehow, they’d gotten through to this exasperating, frustrating, irritating…dear, lovable brother of his!

When Elrohir nodded again, Elladan gave an undignified whoop of joy. Grinning over at Aragorn, who wore an equally relieved, happy look, Elladan asked, “Estel, do you think you could prepare some more of Ada’s special brew?”

“I will be right back with it,” he answered with a wide grin. Finally the breakthrough he’d been waiting for! This would make a huge difference in Elrohir’s recovery and Aragorn couldn’t be happier.

He raced to make the tea before anything could happen to prevent Elrohir from drinking it. Since the herbs had been pre-measured and ground, waiting for such a chance, the tea was ready within just minutes of Elrohir’s decision.

Aragorn brought the steaming cup over to his brothers where Elladan had already pulled his twin into his arms. The ranger smothered a smile as he observed them. Ever since Elrohir had permitted that first hug, Elladan had taken every chance he could to hold his brother. Aragorn wondered what Elrohir thought of it. The younger twin didn’t say anything one way or the other, but seemed to accept the closeness from Elladan and hadn’t shown any of his previous reluctance for physical contact. Aragorn hadn't tried for himself, though. In fact, he still didn't touch Elrohir except when helping to care for him. It wasn't that he didn't want to. It was just that Elladan was so happy when he had the chance to be with his twin that Aragorn hadn’t wanted to take those opportunities away yet. At least, that’s what he told himself over and over as he avoided getting too close to Elrohir.

None of these thoughts were in his mind, however, as he knelt down and eagerly brought the cup forward. Looking at the wounded elf, though, Aragorn hesitated at the last minute and didn't immediately give Elrohir the tea. He knew that his brother wouldn't refuse to drink it now that he'd agreed to having some, but he had seen that the younger twin’s eyes were still clouded with apprehension. With the perceptive understanding that had already made him an exceptional healer even at his young age, Aragorn took the time to explain to Elrohir exactly what effects he was going to feel once he drank the tea. First a slight tingling, then a warmth that spread through the body, then a relaxed feeling as the pain faded away, and finally a soothing peace as the senses faded somewhat.

Elladan had said nothing during Aragorn's words or even after them, although the look he gave his little brother was one of approval. Sometimes the young human's thoughtfulness caught him off-guard and he was reminded again of what an exceptional young man Estel had become.

Elrohir, too, had been paying close attention to his brother and he was so grateful for the careful recitation of facts. By the time Aragorn was done, the elf was at least accepting of what would happen, if still not pleased. Thus, when Aragorn asked him if he was ready, he was able to nod affirmatively.

Without further comment, Aragorn held the hot tea up for Elrohir to drink. It actually didn’t taste too bad and in short order, the cup was completely drained. The effects on Elrohir were just what his brother had described. Almost immediately, he felt the tingling, the warmth, and then the wonderful, blessed relief from the pain! After days of agony, the change was unimaginable and Elrohir found himself relaxing so much, that he gently slipped into a deep, restful sleep.

As the young elf's consciousness faded, Elladan and Aragorn shared a relieved and satisfied look.

"Better?" queried Elladan with a raised eyebrow.

"Infinitely," answered his brother as he put aside the cup and pulled out the supplies he'd gathered earlier to rebandage Elrohir's hands. Within short order, the task was done and the brothers were able to finally enjoy several restful hours while Elrohir slept.

---------------------------------

Once Elrohir permitted the occasional use of the pain-numbing teas, his recovery began to speed up dramatically. His brothers were able to change his bandages without causing too much pain and the days of agony soon were a thing of the past.

The next challenge faced by Elrond's sons surprisingly came about because Elrohir was feeling better. Once he was able to focus on things other than pain, he realized just how helpless his injuries had left him. Without the use of his hands and basically trapped flat on his back by his damaged ribs and leg, he was unable to take care of even his most basic needs and was appalled at what he had to rely on his brothers for. Even as a slave, Elrohir had been fiercely proud and now desperately hated having to rely on the others for absolutely everything. At first he was angry at having to accept his brothers' care for all his needs, but their patience and good natures eventually wore down even his stubborn pride, and after a few days, he was able to appreciate the special gift he'd been given to have these two wonderful beings as brothers.

Thus, overall things really seemed to be looking up, so at first no one noticed the subtle change in Elrohir's behavior. On the evening of the fifth day after his accident, he was resting quietly while his brothers prepared dinner. He had been rather subdued the whole day, but that by itself wasn't too strange, since he still said little unless directly addressed. Aragorn became concerned, however, as he prepared to feed him dinner.

“It is time to eat, Elrohir,” Aragorn called over. It was his turn to hold his brother while Elladan fed him, so he knelt down beside him and prepared to lift him up.

Elrohir turned his head to look at his brother, but then shook his head with disinterest. “I do not wish to eat,” he said. “I am not hungry.”

Aragorn laughed lightly, “I realize Elladan cooked tonight, but I assure you that despite that, the meal is at least edible.”

The ranger then had to quickly duck as a cloth came sailing over at his head, thrown by his oldest brother who had obviously overheard his comment.

With a smirk for Elladan, Aragorn turned back to Elrohir and teased, “You will hurt his feelings if you don’t at least taste his soup.”

Elrohir, however, didn’t even respond this time. He merely turned away and closed his eyes, to the alarm of his brother. Elrohir had finally begun to sleep with his eyes open, as was normal for healthy elves. And now that Aragorn thought about it, Elrohir was looking rather flushed. What was going on?

“Elrohir, what is wrong?” At Aragorn’s suddenly serious tone, Elladan came quickly over to the pair and expertly looked over his twin. He felt a small pang of alarm as he saw how wrung-out Elrohir looked. And even more alarming was that he hadn’t even bothered to answer their brother’s query. Since he’d begun communicating with them, Elrohir had been unfailingly polite.

Setting the bowl of soup down that he’d carried over to feed Elrohir, he knelt beside them both and then felt Elrohir’s forehead. As he feared, it was far too warm. The small pit in his stomach grew as he was forced to accept that despite all their hard work to keep his hands clean and free of infection, Elrohir had developed a fever. They had been so careful. How had this happened?

Not wanting to alarm Elrohir, his twin asked casually, "Ro, before dinner, I think I should like to take a look at your hands. Would you mind the delay?"

Elrohir opened his eyes slightly as he glanced at Elladan. Since he'd already said he wasn't hungry, he wasn't sure why his brother even asked the question, but not wanting to seem rude, he answered wearily, "You may do as you wish. It matters not to me."

Elladan managed a tight smile for his twin, but his face instantly revealed his alarm as soon as Elrohir closed his eyes.

"Estel, help me," directed Elladan with quiet urgency.

The brothers worked together rapidly, each quickly unwrapping a hand as they tried to determine what had gone wrong. They watched Elrohir for signs of distress since his hands would be hurting more than ever if they were infected. But even though he hadn't had any of the tea recently, Elrohir remained still and limp and appeared to be unaffected by the work being done on his hands. When at last they were fully unwrapped, the brothers looked at each other in puzzlement. Both hands looked fine. While they still had a long way to go before being good as new, they were clearly healing well. What then, was causing Elrohir's fever?

Elladan felt his brother's hot forehead again as his mind sifted through the possibilities. "Estel," he finally said, "when did you last change the bandages on Elrohir's leg?"

Aragorn's eyes opened wide at the question. "Elladan, I thought you were to care for his leg," he exclaimed.

Elladan’s head jerked up as he looked over at his brother in shock. "Oh..." he groaned. "No...I thought you were." How could they have been so stupid? They had taken such good care of Elrohir's hands, but they had forgotten his leg! Dropping his head in his hands, he added with a deep sigh, "Can you check his leg while I redo these bandages?"

Aragorn quickly went to do his brother’s bidding, hoping that they were wrong, but their fears were confirmed when he finished unwinding the bandage. The wound was swollen, hot to the touch, oozed with infection, and obviously was extremely tender as Elrohir’s eyes flew open and he pulled away as it was examined.

Elladan and Aragorn shared a look of chagrin. Neither blamed the other. Rather, they each blamed themselves for not properly caring for all of Elrohir’s wounds. They had been so focused on caring for the worst injury to his hands that they’d overlooked the lesser injury to his leg.

Aragorn said nothing as he looked to Elladan to tell his twin about the latest development. This once, he was glad to be the little brother and leave it to Elladan to tell his brother the bad news.

“Elrohir,” said Elladan, touching him lightly to get his attention. When his twin turned his head toward him and gazed at him tiredly, he continued, “Ro, it seems that your leg is not doing well and we need to lance the wound to drain the infection. It…it will not be pleasant for you, so if you would allow it, I should like for you to take an extra dose of the tea to numb you before we start.”

The younger twin was so tired, but he tried hard to concentrate as he answered his brother. What was it Elladan wanted? To give him more of that tea, or drug, or whatever it was? By this time, however, after all that his brothers had done for him, Elrohir would have agreed to anything they asked of him, so much did he trust them. Too weary to fully express that sentiment right now, however, he merely nodded tiredly and said, “I trust you both to do what you think best,” before he once more closed his eyes.

He couldn’t have said anything better to make his brothers feel on top of the world! Amazed at how good that one little sentence made them both feel, Elladan and Aragorn were able to relax as they quickly prepared and then gave Elrohir an extra strong dose of tea. Once he’d drifted into a deep sleep, the brothers worked in companionable silence as they expertly lanced the wound, drained off the infection, restitched it, packed it all with a fresh poultice, and then rebandaged it. In all, it took almost an hour before they were done, but when they had finished, they were confident that he would soon be feeling much better.

--------------------------

Between fighting the infection and the effects of the strong tea, it was almost a full day before Elrohir once more awoke. But this time, Elladan and Aragorn’s prediction was fulfilled and he was feeling substantially better. He lay for a few minutes, enjoying the unusual feeling of wellness, before he opened his eyes and carefully stretched. The afternoon sun was beating down into the small clearing and he saw the young ranger leaning against a nearby tree, quietly making arrows to pass the time.

Alerted by his brother’s movement, Aragorn put aside his work and joined him. “Elrohir, you’re awake,” he said happily. Placing the back of his hand against Elrohir’s forehead, he noted in satisfaction that there was no lingering fever.

“No fever...and you're looking quite rested. How are you feeling?” he asked.

Elrohir considered a moment before he answered. “I feel well,” he finally answered. “But I’m quite hungry,” he added, with almost a surprised tone.

Aragorn smiled down at his brother in delight. This was the first time since his injury that Elrohir really sounded like he was on the mend. He thought about what he could give him to eat, but reluctantly concluded that the few things they had left in camp wouldn’t be adequate for an invalid who hadn’t eaten in days. They had been so busy caring for Elrohir that they hadn’t had time to replenish their food supply for awhile, so Elladan had finally agreed about an hour ago to go out and find something for them to have for dinner--hopefully he’d be back soon with something that Elrohir could eat as well.

“Elladan is out hunting and should return shortly with dinner. I’m afraid I have nothing else here that you could eat,” Aragorn said apologetically. “In the meantime, though, would you care for some water?” He really wished he had something he could give Elrohir while they waited, but didn’t want Elrohir to get an upset stomach from eating the wrong foods after so long without anything to eat.

When Elrohir answered, “A drink of water would be wonderful,” Aragorn filled a cup with fresh water and gently pulled his brother up. He helped the weak elf sit and drink, but once again resisted the temptation to wrap him in a hug like Elladan did. Although he, too, still longed to show his brother how much he cared for him, he finally had to admit to himself that his reluctance had nothing to do with letting Elladan be close to his twin. In truth, Aragorn felt uncharacteristically hesitant to express himself to this stranger in his brother’s body. While Elladan apparently had no troubles communicating his feelings to his twin, Aragorn found himself unable to demonstrate his own caring for the elf. Perhaps it was due to Aragorn’s desire to give his brother time to ease into his new reality. Or perhaps it was due to the months of difficulty when Elrohir had rejected him time and again and now he was reluctant to find out if Elrohir would still reject him. Regardless of why, the end result was that Aragorn was very gentle and caring with his brother, but would show him no direct form of affection. So after Elrohir had his fill of water, Aragorn simply eased him back down.

Shortly after Elrohir had finished with his water and once again was resting comfortably, Elladan came into the camp carrying several game birds and a varied assortment of roots and berries. He was delighted to see his twin awake and looking so alert.

“Ro…it’s wonderful to see you awake. Are you feeling better?” the elder twin asked cheerily as he knelt by his brother, checking his forehead for lingering fever.

“I am well,” answered Elrohir. With a slight frown, he continued, “Although I am quite famished. Estel and I have been waiting ever so long for you to return with something to eat.”

Elladan was momentarily taken aback at this unexpected criticism, until he saw the sparkle in his brother’s eyes. The wretch was teasing him! This was the first time since he’d been found that his twin had shown even a hint of the playful side of his personality. This was a side that was an integral part of the old Elrohir and Elladan had to remind himself not to get his hopes up that this was a sign he’d have his brother back whole soon. Still, it was a further indication that his twin really was in there somewhere and it helped him believe that one day he’d have him completely back. For now, however, he had to find a suitable response to his brother’s comment.

“Hungry are we?” he asked but then was unsure what to say. Under normal circumstances, he would simply tease his brother right back with some sort of comment about pampered elves who expected others to provide for them. But with Elrohir lying flat on his back and unable to do anything, such a comment would only sound mean.

So, instead he acknowledged mentally that this round would go to Elrohir and merely said wryly, “I apologize for the delay, brother. Perhaps Estel can help me prepare this bounty and we will eat shortly.”

Elrohir smiled quietly and watched the other two fix their meal. He was able to eat a whole bowl of the nourishing broth they prepared for him, and then slipped back into his deep, healing sleep.

------------------------

After another day of resting, Elrohir was finally able to sit up on his own and only two days later, began to walk with the aid of his brothers. Although his ribs and leg continued to ache somewhat, he could mostly ignore them and soon only his hands caused any lingering problems.

Now that Elrohir was up and about, the brothers had another, albeit smaller, problem to deal with. Simply put, Elrohir had ruined his clothes when he’d fallen from the tree and so now he didn’t have a good set of clothes to wear. While he’d been bedridden, his brothers had just covered him with a blanket. But now they had to find something for him to wear around the camp and for the later journey home. Elladan had nothing else to give him and Aragorn only had a spare tunic, so they reluctantly decided he’d have to keep his torn leggings and undertunic and they’d try to repair them. The brothers did their best to stitch up the holes and wash out the dirt and blood, but it was not a very effective effort and in the end Elrohir still ended up looking more like a refugee than an elven prince, but at least it was something to wear.

By the time two full weeks had passed since Elrohir’s injury, he was sufficiently healed that the brothers began discussing restarting their journey home. During all their talks, Elladan and Aragorn were careful to include Elrohir while making their plans. Now that he was no longer under the influence of Borgas’ drugs, they wanted to make sure that Elrohir felt an equal member of their little group.

This was unusual for the elf, who in his own memory could not remember ever being asked for his opinion on anything. He quickly learned to enjoy this new sense of belonging and thus found it easy to question his brothers when he saw them talking quietly together.

“What is the problem?” asked Elrohir from right over Aragorn’s shoulder.

Aragorn jumped in surprise. He hadn’t heard the elf approach and was annoyed that the now grinning Elladan hadn’t bothered to tell him that Elrohir had been approaching him from behind. ‘Just perfect!’ he thought. ‘The two of them were already starting to pick on him again!’ His annoyance was gone in a flash, however, as his reaction quickly changed into pleasure. Just short months ago, he’d despaired of ever being teased by his brothers again and here they were, even without Elrohir’s memories, behaving exactly as they used to.

His lips twitched as he decided to ignore the snickering twins and chose instead to answer Elrohir’s question, “There is a very difficult passage about an hour’s hike from here. The trail that leads down into the valley winds along the side of a steep cliff. The difficulty of the trail is why we stopped early that day that you were injured. We were planning on resting up before we attempted it.”

Elrohir’s mirth faded as the problem dawned on him. He nodded slowly as he regarded his brothers. “And now you do not know how to get me down it?” he said unhappily. Once more, he was causing trouble. He was so tired of being the weak member of the group who was always the source of problems.

“Truthfully, it is a concern,” stated Elladan, entering the conversation. “Ideally, you would ride my horse until you had fully regained your strength, but the trip down the mountainside will require too much strength to guide the horse so you cannot be the one to ride him. I will have to instead.”

Far from seeing this as a problem, Elrohir was grateful for the news. He didn’t like horses at all and had been concerned that his brothers were going to make him ride the beast. He was happy with this development, but it still didn’t address the issue of his brothers’ concern for his ability to make the trip.

“I have been gaining strength rapidly for the past several days and I am confident that I could travel quite a ways now,” he said with conviction. “Could I not simply walk along the trail?”

“Aye,” answered Aragorn. “In fact, that is what you shall have to do. We can wait here a few more days while you recover even more of your strength and then we will see about attempting the journey.”

Elrohir was pleased with this news. He knew his brothers were chafing to get home and he didn’t want to be the source of any further delays.

------------------------

After just two more days of resting, the three finally decided to break camp the next morning and just after dawn the next day, they packed up their belongings and once more set off on the path home.

The first hour or so passed easily as the brothers made their way through the sun-dappled forest. Elladan and Aragorn kept a close eye on Elrohir’s progress, but he seemed to be managing fine and after awhile, they accepted that he was truly fit to travel.

Within a short time, however, they reached the top of the trail leading down the cliff face. Each of the brothers looked grimly at the steep, visibly dangerous path. Even in the best of circumstances, it would be a difficult passage, but with Elrohir weak and unable to use his hands, this was going to be trickier than usual.

Disregarding his earlier assessment of Elrohir’s fitness to travel, Elladan sent a worried look at his twin and said, “I believe we should wait a bit longer before trying this.” Upon reflection (and actually seeing the path once again), he decided it would be too taxing for his weakened twin and wouldn’t risk something happening to him on the way home.

Elrohir, however, had no such worries. “Wait! Whatever for?” he asked with exasperation. He knew very well what was bothering Elladan, but wasn’t about to be the cause of yet another delay.

Elladan recognized the irritation in his twin’s tone, but felt compelled to voice his concerns anyway. “Ro, I do not think…I do not believe you are up to taking this trail just yet. It is treacherous and very easy to slip and you won’t even have the use of your hands to help you across the most difficult parts. It would be best to give you some more time before we proceed.”

There was no teasing air this time in the frown that Elrohir directed toward his brother. He appreciated that they both wanted to take care of him, but enough was enough. He was getting tired of being coddled!

“We already discussed this, Elladan. It will be several more weeks before I have any practical use of my hands. Waiting will do nothing except push us closer to the autumn storm season, which would make this path a hazard to all of us. I will be careful, but we must continue now.”

“Yes, but even if your hands won’t heal soon, another week of resting would significantly increase your strength,” argued Elladan. “We should turn back.”

“I am fine and I will not turn back and be the source of continued delay,” the younger twin said vehemently.

“We will turn back if I say we will,” responded Elladan, becoming equally irritated at the stubborn attitude of his twin.

“Well I wish to continue. Perhaps I will simply go on alone,” threatened Elrohir, not willing to back down.

“Wait,” interjected Aragorn forcefully before things could deteriorate further. He had been quietly watching the little spat with amusement, but now recognized the warning signs that the equally obstinate elves were heading toward an argument that neither would win.

As the two looked at him expectantly, he continued, “Dan, Elrohir is right in that we do need to start home now. Further delay is pointless.” He shot a quelling look at the other twin as Elrohir smiled in satisfaction. “But Ro, Elladan also is right when he worries about your ability to navigate this trail. Despite your belief that you are ‘fine,’ the fact is that even the hardiest have trouble here and you are far from being fully recovered. After viewing this path again, I am inclined to agree with Dan that you may not be ready for it. So, we must come up with some kind of alternative.”

Neither twin said anything and Aragorn almost wanted to laugh at the identical looks of dissatisfaction on their faces. He knew that neither was in the mood to be laughed at, however, so he smothered the impulse and said in his most reasonable voice, “How about we continue on, but tie a rope around Elrohir’s waist so if he slips, we can prevent a nasty fall?”

Elrohir again said nothing, his jaw tightening as he realized that his brothers were going to treat him like a weakling whether he wanted it or not. He had to force himself to stop a resentful retort regarding overprotective brothers when he saw Elladan nod in approval at Estel’s suggestion.

“That is a worthy idea, Estel,” said Elladan. “Although you would have to be the one at the other end of the rope. I will unfortunately have my hands full guiding my horse down.”

Aragorn smiled, appreciating the trust that Elladan showed him by putting Elrohir’s safety in his hands. “I will see that he does not fall,” he assured his brother.

“Do I not have a say in this?” interjected Elrohir, annoyed at the way the two were talking about him as if he weren’t there.

“No!” the other two answered in unison.

They then worked together as they pulled out a rope and then looped it around both Aragorn and Elrohir. While they were working, Elrohir stood motionless and silent, telling himself over and over not to be angry--that they were only trying to be helpful, but he couldn’t help feeling hurt and resentful at their high-handed behavior. He tried to control his feelings and remain accepting and calm, however inside he was still seething.

Apparently Elrohir was not completely successful at hiding his feelings, for Elladan suddenly stopped what he was doing and really looked at his twin. He finally realized that this was more than Elrohir being stubborn--he was honestly becoming upset and Elladan had just realized why. With a start his remembered his twin’s recent history of being a powerless slave at the mercy of other’s rules. And without thinking, he and Aragorn were once more dictating Elrohir’s life. He supposed that was because they’d been slipping back into their old roles recently and so he had also thoughtlessly slipped back into his ‘bossy older brother’ role, but it didn’t excuse his behavior.

With a sigh, he started to remove the rope from Elrohir.

“Ro,” he said contritely, “I am sorry. You are right. You should have a say in this.”

Aragorn looked at him in shocked surprise until he, too, caught the look on Elrohir’s face. The elf appeared genuinely upset--something that neither of them had expected nor wanted. He wisely said nothing as he let Elladan work things out.

Once the rope was completely removed, Elladan continued, “Do you seriously object to the rope, or just the fact that you were not given a choice?”

At the calm tone of his brother, Elrohir took a deep breath and considered. Actually, looking at the steep trail, it probably was prudent to take extra precautions and so he reluctantly answered, “I am tired of constantly being a burden to you…someone that requires more care than a child would. However, mostly I did not like being told what to do without you listening to my input.”

“I must say I am sorry, too,” Aragorn interjected. “We should have discussed this with you, although I still believe it is for the best.”

Looking at his two brothers who appeared genuinely contrite, Elrohir’s anger faded away. After all, they were only trying to take care of him. Deciding to give in after all, he gave them a smile to show that all was forgiven and said, “Thank you for understanding. And…although I still do not wish to be coddled, I will allow the rope if you truly think it necessary.”

After strong agreement from both brothers that they felt that use of the rope was best, it was tied back around Elrohir and the three began their journey down the cliffside. Elladan rode ahead, Elrohir went second, and Aragorn brought up the rear, tied to Elrohir by the rope.

The beginning of the journey down did indeed prove difficult and the brothers had to take breaks every so often to allow Elrohir to rest. Although he’d never admit it, the going was more taxing than he’d imagined and he was grateful for the frequent rest stops.

They continued their way slowly down, but then about a third of the way down a near-tragedy occurred when the path suddenly crumbled beneath Elrohir’s feet. His shout alerted Elladan, who was riding ahead, but the older twin was too far away to do anything to help his brothers. All he could do was watch helplessly as the events unfolded as if in slow motion.

Elrohir, although weakened, still had the quick reflexes of his kind and managed to leap onto a more secure part of the path. His brother behind him was not so fortunate, however. Aragorn had leapt forward trying to grab Elrohir, but was unable to keep his footing and found himself slipping off the path as the trail continued to crumble.

The ranger’s first horror-filled thought as he felt himself falling over the edge was heartfelt regret that he’d ever suggested being tied to Elrohir. As weak as the young elf was, he’d certainly be pulled off the path as well. His next coherent thought, however, was a shocked realization that he was no longer falling, but was dangling in the air from the rope around his waist. He looked up and to his amazement saw that Elrohir had flung himself around the base of a small bush growing alongside the path and was using its deep roots to help anchor him as he strained to keep his brother from falling.

Elrohir’s feet scrambled to find purchase as he was pulled closer to the edge. The little bush was giving way and so making a quick decision, he grabbed the rope with both hands and pulled with all his strength. His actions stopped their forward momentum, but the sharp pain it caused his unhealed hands nearly caused him to drop the rope in shock.

“Dan!” he shouted, knowing that he couldn’t hold his brother for long.

Before the echo of Elrohir’s voice had even faded, Elladan was at his side and between the two of them, they quickly pulled their little brother to safety.

For long minutes, the brothers could do no more than rest on the side of the path, catching their breath as they rejoiced in being safe.

“Are either of you hurt?” asked Elladan when he finally found his voice. It trembled slightly as he realized just how close he’d just come to losing both of his beloved brothers.

“I…I am alright,” answered Aragorn, amazed to find that that was actually true. Other than being scared half to death, he had managed to escape anything worse than a couple of minor scrapes.

“I also,” said Elrohir, although with less conviction. Honestly his hands were killing him, but he didn’t want to give his brothers a reason to start babying him even more. And more important, he didn’t want Estel to feel bad about his hands being hurt while he was trying to save him. Two sets of eyes boring into him drew his attention, though, and he unhappily noted his brothers looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and concern.

By the Valar! “Very well,” he huffed, “My hands ache from when I pulled on the rope…but that is all! I was not using them anyway, so there is no need for concern.”

Elladan grabbed his shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Elrohir, I need to know truthfully how badly your hands are hurt,” he said sternly. “The path before us is just as treacherous as the part we already crossed and I must know if you are able to continue. If not, we should turn back now or we could all be endangered.”

Almost flinching from the intensity of Elladan’s gaze, the younger twin considered before he answered. He did fully understand his brother’s concerns, so he answered truthfully, “They hurt. They hurt abominably to be honest. But I meant it when I said there is no need for concern. I still feel able to continue.”

Seeing sincerity in his twin’s eyes, Elladan finally released his brother and nodded. “Now is not the time to check your hands…the ground is still unstable here. I will take your word that you are able to continue and we will proceed. But you are to tell us if you need to slow down or stop.”

Nodding his agreement, Elrohir stood up and moved to continue down the path when he was stopped by Aragorn. With an almost shy smile, the ranger simply said, “Thank you.”

Elrohir took a second to fully realize what he’d just done and what he was being thanked for, but then he broke into a dazzling smile. “You are most welcome,” he said happily, feeling for the first time that he had more to offer his brothers than just trouble after trouble. Thus, despite the lingering pain in his hands, it was with great cheer that he added, “I am so grateful after all that you thought to tie us together!” and then started down the path.

-----------------------

Hours later, Elrond’s sons finally reached the valley floor. Exhausted, they decided to camp right where they were even though it was only early afternoon. The trip had taken every bit of strength Elrohir had and actually his brothers weren’t faring too much better. The passage had been grueling for them all.

Once the preparations for an early dinner were complete, Elladan finally got a chance to examine Elrohir’s hands. He was pleased to see that the thick bandages had kept the tender hands from being permanently damaged, but was not happy to note that pulling on the rope had in fact peeled off the first layer of healing skin and had set back Elrohir’s recovery a good ways.

Elrohir watched in silence as his brother dusted his hands with some sort of healing powder and then rebandaged them. Despite his exhaustion and the new injury to his hands, he was in incredibly high spirits. Not only had he managed to successfully make his way down to the valley, but he had also managed to save his little brother’s life in the process! To suddenly be a contributing member of their little trio gave the elf a much-needed boost in self-esteem and he counted the injury well worth the price.

With Elrohir’s cheerful mood and his brothers’ equally good humor it was a lively group that rested up in the little camp that evening.

--------------------

After successfully managing the dangerous passage, the rest of the brothers’ journey was wonderfully uneventful. The Fates seemed to finally be smiling on Elrond’s sons as day by day they got closer to home. Elrohir’s hands started once more to heal and after just two more weeks, they required much lighter bandaging and he had regained some use of them. Although he still tired easily, his other injuries were now completely healed and he was feeling stronger with each passing day.

So, by the time they were nearing Rivendell, physically Elrohir was doing much, much better. He had, however, found a new concern--one that truthfully disturbed him more than his injuries had. While he had been traveling with his brothers, he had managed to put aside his past and accept his new life with them. But now…now he was facing the reality of trying to fit in to a society as some sort of elven lord, when in truth his only experiences outside of those with his brothers was that of a slave. Thus, as the brothers neared home, he became more and more tense and silent as his trepidation about what he was facing grew.

His brothers were not at all unaware of Elrohir’s uneasiness and had indeed been wondering themselves what new trials may be in store for their brother. Therefore, they had been using the quiet days of their journey to fill him in on day-to-day life in Rivendell--describing the people, the places, and how everything worked. They had hoped by teaching him about their home they’d ease his concerns by helping to prepare him for life in their father’s realm. But instead, the more he learned, the less he felt ready to face this totally foreign way of life.

A good indication of just how anxious Elrohir was becoming was the short-tempered way he started reacting to his brothers’ continued stories of their home as they got closer and closer to their destination. After days of hearing about who was who and what was what and how he should react in different situations, Elrohir didn’t think he could stand one more fact being crammed into his skull.

At first he had been able to hide his irritation, but then his comments started to become more and more curt, and finally, when they were only a day’s walk from Rivendell, his tension reached such a level that he couldn’t take it any more. Stress, worry, and just overwhelming fatigue had given him a pounding headache and he unfortunately exploded when Elladan blithely started describing the organizational structure of the realm’s patrols.

“Enough!” he shouted. “Would you cease this endless prattle?! Do you really believe that I care how the patrols are organized, or how you can tell them apart, or what their functions are, or…or anything else about them? In truth, I do not care to hear another word about anything! Can we not simply walk in peace?!”

Elladan and Aragorn stopped on the path and regarded the younger twin seriously. This just wasn’t like Elrohir. Not the old one or the new one either. Since he’d overcome the effects of the drugs, in general he’d been quite pleasant. So, he was either more tired than he’d let on, or he was more concerned about meeting everyone at home than he’d let on. Or possibly, it was a combination of the two.

Yes, seeing how he was holding his head as if trying to prevent it from falling off, it was now obvious to the two of them that Elrohir was fighting a fierce headache. And from the unhappy frown, it was also obvious that they hadn’t realized quite how anxious he’d become.

Since Elladan had been the one who’d been yelled at, he was the one who responded to his twin’s outburst. “Elrohir, there is no need to become upset. We certainly do not have to continue our stories of home if you do not like them. We are only trying to help you by painting you a picture of life in Rivendell.”

“Well stop,” his twin answered in almost a growl. “It is pointless since I have long-ceased to be able to process anything new that you tell me.”

Elrohir then pushed past them and made as if to keep going down the trail when Aragorn grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“What?” the elf snapped angrily, yanking his arm away.

“Elrohir,” said Aragorn with admirable patience, “I think we should stop for the day and rest. If you had told us that you were feeling poorly, we could have stopped earlier, you know.”

“I am fine!” hissed Elrohir through clenched teeth. First they tried to drive him insane with their eternal storytelling and now they were going to start treating him like an invalid again! With a glare for both of his brothers, he started stalking down the path again.

This time, it was Elladan who stopped him. Stopped him by simply stepping in front of him on the path. The younger twin tried to push him aside, but he was no match for his healthier brother. Three times he was stopped as Elladan kept moving in front of him. Frustrated, angry, tired, and frazzled, Elrohir swung his right fist as if to strike Elladan.

“Whoa!” yelped Elladan in surprise as he caught his twin by the forearm. Catching the other one, too, before he could strike out with the left hand, he asked, “What do you think you are doing? Those hands are not ready for any kind of fight, little one!”

Little one! Elrohir knew from his brothers’ comments that he was the middle brother, older than Estel but younger than Elladan. But to be called ‘little one’ was insulting! “Let me go!” he shouted angrily.

“Not until you calm down,” answered his brother in a rational voice that irritated Elrohir even more than shouting would have. The younger elf was upset and didn’t want his brother’s reasonable behavior to show him by contrast that he was acting badly.

“We are wasting time,” said Elrohir, with a visible effort to appear calm, but even so, his voice was tight with tension. “If we stop now, we’ll not make Rivendell before sunset tomorrow as planned.”

“Then we arrive late,” answered Elladan, again in a smooth, reasonable voice. “No one is expecting us tomorrow so a delay causes no problem.”

Elrohir knew how excited his brothers were to see their father and their home and couldn’t stand being the reason they didn’t arrive as planned. He unhappily tried to pull his arms away again. “Let me go!” he cried.

Aragorn had come up beside them and now put a quiet hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Shhh…Ro, let us stop for awhile,” he said. “It will be better for all of us to rest up before we get home.”

“I do not want…” began Elrohir, but then cut off his sentence half-way.

“What?” asked Elladan, still refusing to let go of his twin’s arms.

Elrohir shook his head and wouldn’t look at either of his brothers. How could he tell them that he didn’t want to go home? They were so excited about it and all he felt was fear of the unknown and a horrible dread. He tugged on his arms again, knowing he’d not be able to break free from his brother’s strong grasp, but somehow needing to make the attempt anyway.

“Ro?” Elladan said worriedly. He knew that something more than ill humor was driving his twin’s odd behavior. When Elrohir still wouldn’t look at him, he finally did let his brother’s arms go, but then grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to the ground.

Joining him on the ground, Elladan continued, “Now tell us what is bothering you.”

Aragorn also sat down with them and added, “Whatever it is, you know we will do our best to help you.”

“That’s just it!” Elrohir suddenly cried in frustration. “You will help me. You always help me. I am already useless enough and we are doing nothing more taxing than walking down a stupid path. What will happen when we get home? When there are real issues to deal with? How will I ever fit in? Will you always be beside me, helping me? Even if you do not tire of that, I will! If nothing else, it will be a constant reminder of how worthless I am!”

After his little outburst, the younger elf buried his aching head in his hands. He couldn’t believe he’d just said what he did. The only way he could remember maintaining any sense of dignity was to hold on to his pride. It had worked for him as a slave and he’d hoped it would work for him in Rivendell. But now that was going to be impossible after he’d just blurted out his fears. How pathetic! His brothers would surely despise him now for being so weak. He waited tensely for their words of contempt.

The next thing he knew, however, Elladan was pulling him into a tight embrace. “You are not worthless,” he said with a catch in his voice. “If you do nothing more than simply sit around Rivendell and eat and sleep, it would be more than enough for me. I am just glad you are alive and coming home,” he added fervently.

Aragorn put a tentative hand on his shoulder and said with equal conviction, “I feel the same way. You do not have to do anything you do not wish to at home. We will all simply be grateful that you’ve come back to us.” When Elrohir didn’t stir, he added, “And do not forget, Ro, that you are the one who kept my sorry hide from going off that cliff. I certainly wouldn’t count that as worthless.”

Elrohir unburied his head and glanced up at both of his brothers. Estel was smiling softly at him and Elladan was looking at him with a worried, troubled expression. Neither one of them looked contemptuous or even irritated with him. Was it possible that he was overreacting? He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. It would be so much easier to think if his head wasn’t trying to split in two! He closed his eyes again and tried to massage his temples with his bandaged hands. It wasn’t working.

He felt his hands being pulled away and then Elladan said, “Ro, let me mix up something for that headache and then I want you to rest. We are stopping here for the night.”

It was just as well, Elrohir reflected. Now that he was on the ground, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to get back up again anyway. He’d been keeping from his brothers just how tired he was getting since he didn’t want to slow them down, but now fatigue seemed to be crashing down on him. When Elladan let him go, he leaned tiredly against a tree and instantly fell into a light sleep. He woke up a short time later when Estel came over and gave him something for his head and then he curled up right where he was and went to sleep.

------------------------

Elrohir didn’t wake again until the next morning. His brothers had somehow managed to get him into his bedroll without waking him and he felt rested and in a much better frame of mind. He kicked off his covers and then joined his brothers who were sitting quietly over a small fire. They had cooked up some kind of wonderful-smelling stew and his stomach growled in anticipation.

Elladan and Aragorn looked up as Elrohir approached. They were both relieved to see that the small lines of pain from the headache seemed to be gone and he no longer appeared so upset. What he did look, though, was ashamed. With a clear head, Elrohir had remembered just how badly he’d acted the day before and the first thing he did was apologize.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I behaved like a child yesterday, taking out my bad temper on you both. I have nothing to say in my defense, but I hope you will find it in your hearts to forgive me.”

Since Elladan and Aragorn had never been upset with Elrohir in the first place, they found it easy to give him the assurances he needed and once the air was cleared, the three of them enjoyed the delicious breakfast stew.

They packed up quickly after eating and then promptly started off down the trail. Since they were far behind schedule, they traveled fast the whole day, trying to make up lost time and get home before dark. But they simply couldn’t do it. Even though they had barely stopped for anything, when the sun started to go down, Rivendell was still several hours away. Determined to make it home, they took only a short break to eat dinner and then started off again. Within another hour, though, Elladan and Aragorn noted that Elrohir was walking slower and slower and occasionally stumbling. Disappointed, they realized that they had pushed too hard that day and he was obviously out of energy.

Elrohir was too tired to even pretend he wasn’t exhausted, but knew what torture it would be to his brothers to stop so close to home. Understanding how anxious they were to see their father, the tired elf decided that there was only one solution. Reluctantly, he approached Elladan and asked if he could ride his horse for awhile. His brothers were astonished, to say the least. Elrohir had kept up his strange reluctance to have anything to do with the animal during their entire journey and so they were especially grateful that Elrohir was agreeing to ride him now just so they could get home.

Elladan helped his twin onto the horse and then he and Aragorn happily took off, the well-trained animal following quietly behind. To the amusement of his brothers, Elrohir fell asleep almost immediately and now rode slightly slumped over on the horse’s back. The other two were too excited about almost being home to feel even a hint of the fatigue that wiped out the younger twin and they talked quietly to each other while they occasionally glanced up to make sure that Elrohir wouldn’t topple off the horse as he slept. But despite his own misgivings about riding, Elrohir was a born horseman and even asleep kept a sure seat.

“It’s getting quite late. No one will be awake when we get home,” murmured Aragorn in concern. “Do you think perhaps we should stop after all and wait until morning?”

“Nay,” answered Elladan equally quietly. “I think coming in after dark will actually be for the best. Even with all the progress Elrohir has made, I fear he may still be a bit skittish if surrounded by too many strangers at once, and you know everyone will want to see him once they know he’s returned.”

“Aye, you’re right,” said Aragorn. “Still, I cannot wait to see everyone’s reaction,” he finished with a grin.

“Nor I,” agreed his older brother with a smile. “Especially Ada. It is too bad Arwen is still in Lothlorien. I stopped there the last time I was in the area and she was so worried about Elrohir. I know she would wish to be here now. ”

“Mmmm,” replied Aragorn non-committedly. Arwen had been staying with her grandparents in the Golden Woods since long before he’d arrived in Rivendell, and he didn’t really know the elven princess.

The brothers’ quiet discussion was interrupted as an elven guard dropped from the trees ahead of them in their path. A formal salute was followed by a quick smile. “Lord Elladan...Estel...we did not expect you home! It is good to see you both!” he said cheerily.

“Minalus! It has been too long, my friend!” said Elladan, clasping the warrior’s wrist in greeting. Minalus was an older warrior who had patrolled the borders of Rivendell for centuries and was well acquainted with the young sons of Elrond. “This is indeed an unplanned return, but...you see...we have brought someone home.”

He gestured to the horse, where Elrohir still sat slumped over, deeply asleep.

The guard looked at the third member of the party in curiosity. Lord Elladan didn’t let just anyone ride his horse. “Who...?” He stopped before he finished his question, for in a flash of insight, he knew exactly who sat upon Elladan’s horse!

“My lord!” he gasped.

Elladan and Aragorn both laughed at his reaction, forgetting to be quiet but fortunately not waking Elrohir up. Minalus raced over to the horse and stared at Elrohir. He briefly noted the bandaged hands, but focused mostly on the rider’s face. It truly was their missing prince! “He’s alive,” he said excitedly but quietly so as not to wake the injured elf. “Where was he? How did you find him?” he continued.

“I will tell you the whole story, my friend,” said Elladan with a grin, “but it will have to be later. For now, we need to bring him home and place him under my father’s care.”

“Of course,” stated Minalus, nodding in understanding. “Is there anything I can do to aid you?”

“If you could tell us where tonight’s guards are posted, that would be helpful,” said Aragorn. “We are hoping to get Elrohir home quietly and wish to avoid as many people as we can.”

Minalus looked at the brothers quizzically, “I do not understand. Why would you wish to avoid our guards?”

“Elrohir…has had a rough time, Minalus,” answered Elladan. “Again, I will explain it all to you later, but for now I’ll just say that he may react badly to being surrounded by too many people at once. We would like to get him home to Adar as quietly as possible.”

Still not completely understanding, but accepting the brothers’ desire for secrecy, Minalus told them a route that would take them practically up to the palace without encountering any further guards. After thanking him and promising to tell all the stories of their adventures later, they took their leave and eagerly made their way home.

--------------------------

Minalus’ directions proved to be good and without seeing a single other guard, at long last their home was before them. Elrohir still slept on Elladan’s horse, but Elrond’s other two sons felt a sense of peace and joy at finally returning to the warmth of their father’s house. They led the horse around to a small courtyard tucked away out of sight. It was a private entrance used only by the family and would allow them to enter their home undetected.

Aragorn then gently eased Elrohir off the horse, amazed that the exhausted elf still didn’t wake up. He must have been hiding just how much the journey had been wearing him down if he could sleep through being pulled from a horse. Shaking his head at the stubbornness of certain elven twins, he helped Elladan scoop Elrohir up into his arms and then followed the two as they wound their way through several back passages to the twins’ chambers.

They thought they’d managed to completely avoid any of the palace residents when they suddenly came face to face with Erestor, one of their father’s advisors, who was coming down the corridor toward them.

“Erestor!,” exclaimed Elladan. “Uh…it is good to see you again,” he continued, but mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Surely he could have thought of something more clever to say than that!

Erestor, however, was just as startled at unexpectedly running into his lord’s sons in the hallway--even more startled when he realized that he was facing all of his lord’s sons. That was Elrohir lying cradled in his brother’s arms! Usually an articulate, unflappable sort, he stood there with his mouth open for several moments before he managed to collect himself and find his voice.

But even then, Erestor was barely coherent. “You…he…is it really…is he…?” he stammered.

Taking pity on the flustered elf, Aragorn tried to answer his garbled question, “Yes, Erestor. We really have returned with Elrohir, who is well, but very tired. It is quite late and we shoud like to get him to his chambers.”

The older elf tentatively reached over and touched the sleeping elf’s arm. Yes, he really was real! The typically sedate elf broke out into a wide smile. Although he was known for having a cool, detached demeanor, he really was quite fond of Elrond’s sons and was genuinely thrilled to see Elrohir’s safe return.

Before he could ask any questions or say anything further, though, Elladan said, “We wish to keep news of Elrohir’s return from everyone until our father is told first. Could you please inform him that his sons have returned and ask him to join us in my rooms? And…I would appreciate it if you did not tell him of Elrohir. We would like to be the ones to tell him about his return.”

Erestor nodded a bit hesitantly. He was never any good at keeping secrets from Lord Elrond and he was certain that this one would be harder to keep than most. Still, he understood Elladan and Estel’s desire to be the ones to explain the return of their missing brother. With a promise to do what he could, Erestor turned and hurried off to find his lord.

Once Erestor left to find their father, the brothers entered the twins’ apartments and then made their way into Elrohir’s bedchamber. Aragorn quickly pulled back the bedcovers on Elrohir’s bed and the younger twin was gently laid down, his boots removed, and then quietly tucked in.

Convinced that Elrohir was as comfortable as they could make him for the moment, Elladan and Aragorn stood there for a moment, regarding their sleeping brother. They had done it! Against the odds and despite frustrating setbacks, they had brought Elrohir safely home. Sharing a wordless look that expressed the relief and joy that they both were feeling, they silently left his room and went back into the outer common room between the twin’s bedchambers, eagerly awaiting Erestor’s return with their father.

------------------

Erestor found his lord exactly where he expected to find him, sitting in the library, staring unseeing out into the night sky. During the day, the elven lord behaved just like he always had in the past: strong, confident, in control. But those closest to him knew that this was just a façade--a mask he put on day after day as he conducted the business of his realm. It was only at night when he was alone or in the presence of a select few that he allowed his real feelings to surface and the despair he felt at the unexplained loss of his child to overtake him. Every evening, he would stare out into the night sky and look to the stars for some kind of answer to soothe his troubled soul.

He had been this way for over two years now. Long years of wishing he could turn back the clock and heed Elladan’s concerns rather than brushing them aside. Long years of guilt eating at his soul for not immediately rushing to his son’s aid. Long years of never knowing just what had happened to one of his precious children--not knowing if he suffered, or if he was even alive, or if he suffered so much that he would be better off dead. Long years of hoping to find him, but dreading to learn what his fate had been. Too many nights, Elrond fell asleep there at the window with all these thoughts swirling miserably around in his head.

It was just another typical night full of these disturbing thoughts when Elrond vaguely noted that his advisor had entered the room. Erestor would only bother him this late at night if there were something very important to tell him, so with a sigh, he turned to him and waited patiently for what he had to say.

The younger elf couldn’t help feeling great satisfaction as he addressed his lord. For once, the news he had was overwhelmingly good, and he was pleased that he was the one who was able to deliver it.

“My lord, I bring news of your sons. They have returned home and bade me to ask you to join them in Lord Elladan’s chambers,” Erestor stated formally, but with a hint of a smile.

Elrond’s eyes gleamed with the first spark of life seen in quite a while as he heard Erestor. "Elladan and Estel have returned together? Are they well?" he asked, trying to project his usual calm air but for once failing miserably.

Erestor nodded, relieved that he could answer Lord Elrond truthfully and still not betray the fact that Elrohir had also returned. He answered, “Aye. They returned just moments ago and wished to meet you in their rooms. Oh…and they are quite well.”

To Erestor’s delight, Elrond gave his advisor a rare smile and then rushed out. He didn’t even bother trying to maintain his dignity and serenely stroll down to Elladan’s rooms. Instead, he fairly flew through the hallways as he hurried to greet his much-missed sons.

In no time at all, he flung open the door to the sitting room that adjoined the twins’ bedchambers and paused in the doorway, looking at Elladan and Estel, resting in the large, comfortable chairs that the twins had put in this room years ago. They sprang up when he entered, and Elrond drank in the sight of his two sons with the thirst of one denied water for far too long. Their mere presence was a soothing balm to his troubled heart and he gave a quick prayer in thanks for their safe return. The crushing sorrow that had been a part of his daily life with the loss of his other son threatened to surface, but he brutally pushed that aside. For now, he would be content that at least these two had been brought home safely. After enveloping them both in fierce, loving hugs, he stood back and looked at them.

“You two are a sight for sore eyes. And what is this I see? No injuries to heal?” he asked teasingly, taking refuge from his emotions in light-hearted normality.

“Nay, Ada, we are both quite hale and hearty,” answered his eldest as he shared a grin with his young brother.

Elrond laughed as he gave his boys another quick hug. Oh, he was so glad to see them! But then the reality of what he’d just seen pushed its way into his consciousness. A grin…Elladan was standing there grinning at him! Elrond’s smile faded and his heart started to beat wildly as he carefully studied his eldest. Gone was the driving despair and the raging grief that had overshadowed this son for so long. He now seemed content. Happy. Whole. That could only mean one thing. There would be only one reason that Elladan no longer mourned for his lost twin. Only one reason his son was standing before him without that restless urgency that drove him before. As the blood drained from his face, Elrond whispered faintly but with certainty, “He’s here…”

********************

Chapter 8, Ada

“He’s here…”

As he whispered those simple words, Elrond found himself suddenly light-headed. He couldn’t think past anything other than the sure knowledge that somewhere very close by was his long-lost son--the child that he had despaired of ever seeing again. The incredible longing he felt to find that child and then keep him safe for all eternity translated itself into an almost physical pain--one that rendered him unexpectedly speechless and motionless. The great Lord Elrond, master of Rivendell whose rock-solid composure was legendary even among elves, could do no more than breathe while he tried desperately to center himself and collect his scattered thoughts.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but the worried voice of his youngest eventually filtered through, breaking the spell that had been cast over him. “Ada?” questioned Aragorn in a small voice.

When he still didn’t move, Elladan also spoke. “Ada, are you well?” he asked as he took his father’s arm in his hand.

Elrond blinked as he was brought back into reality. He looked into the face that was gazing into his own with a troubled expression--a face that was a mirror image of the one that he now was desperate to see. A breathless, “Where?” was all he could manage.

Elladan shared a distressed look with his youngest brother. This was not how they’d planned to tell their father about Elrohir. They were going to slowly lead up to finding him, carefully explain about his memory loss, relate the small part of his story that they knew, and then finally let their father know of Elrohir’s probable reaction to seeing strange elves, which would tragically include him. But instead of allowing them to break the news gently, somehow Elrond had known almost instantly that Elrohir had returned and now they were going to be hard-pressed to keep their father from him while they prepared him with the essential facts.

As they predicted, before his sons could say anything Elrond pulled his arm away from Elladan and repeated in a voice that sounded almost angry, so urgent was his need to see his lost child, “Where? Where is he?”

“Ada…you need to…” began Aragorn hesitantly, but then faltered as his father turned a desperate face to him and he couldn’t think of how to continue. Looking to his older brother for help, he waited for Elladan to come to his rescue.

Not for the first time, Elladan wished he wasn’t the oldest as he struggled to come up with the right words to tell their visibly upset father. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Ada, as you have apparently guessed, we have wonderful news. We did find Elrohir and he is here…but we need to tell you a few things before you go to him….”

Elrond was looking at Elladan as he spoke, but he wasn’t hearing him. His only thoughts were on finding his other son and without further words, he made an easy guess and pushed past his boys, opening the door to Elrohir’s chambers while he ignored the voices of protest behind him.

Once he’d opened the door, however, despite the driving need to see his son Elrond suddenly found himself unable to walk over to the bed. He’d dreamed of this scene countless times over the past years and it had always ended in disappointment. Always, just before he could actually look at his son, his dream ended with him waking up to the reality that his child had vanished without a trace and there was nothing he could do to protect him or bring him back. For a moment, he was caught up in that dream again and he feared that he would wake up to heart-breaking reality. Then once again, it was the voice of his youngest son that broke though his tumbling thoughts and brought him back to the present day.

“Ada,” Aragorn said pleadingly, “Please let us talk to you outside before you go in and wake up Elrohir.” He predicted absolute disaster if Elrond unknowingly did anything to frighten Elrohir--for both their sakes, their father must know ahead of time what to expect and how to act.

Elladan added his plea, “There are things you must know, Ada, before Elrohir awakes. Please come listen to us.”

This time, Elrond did look over at his sons and finally understood that he should be heeding the concerned, distressed looks they were sending him. He turned his eyes to the distant figure lying still in Elrohir’s bed and with all the will he possessed, he forced himself to take a step back out of the room. One more step backward…just one more to go…but before he could exit the room, he suddenly turned and walked quickly over to the bed, unable to control his own feet as they took him unerringly to the side of his lost child.

Elladan and Aragorn stood in the doorway, dismayed. Their joy at seeing their father after so long had been swept aside by the fear of what might happen if Elrohir should now awaken in a strange room with an unknown elf standing over him. It could scar both their father and Elrohir if the wounded elf reacted badly and they were desperate to prevent such a disaster, but they didn’t know how to prevent it without forcibly removing their father, something they were unwilling to do.

Their father was not longer even aware of his other sons’ presence or their concerns. Instead, he stood perfectly still, looking upon his lost son’s face for the first time in almost three years. There had been many dark moments of despair during those years that he’d feared this moment would never come and his child would be lost to him forever. But here it was. And his joy knew no bounds as he finally allowed himself to believe that his son had at last come home.

He took in every detail of the beloved face…other than obvious fatigue, the young elf looked no different than he had on a thousand other nights when Elrond had checked on his sleeping children. Even as adults, Elrond had sometimes found himself making sure they were resting well, especially if they were recovering from an injury or if they’d been out on patrol for long, hard months.

Looking at his son now, Elrond could almost imagine that Elrohir was only sleeping peacefully after one of those long rides. But this reunion was painfully different from those past times. For one thing, he had yet to hear what had kept Elrohir away for so long, but he knew it would be a story full of tragedy and darkness. And secondly, he knew that for now, he couldn’t allow himself to touch his son. As much as he yearned to pull him into his arms or even just kiss his forehead, he still resisted, for some of what his other sons had been trying to tell him had gotten through. Thus even though it pained him, he would make no move to awaken Elrohir, accepting for the moment that all he could do was reassure himself that his son was finally safe at home.

As the father in him accepted that fact, the master healer took over and looked critically at the sleeping elf. The lines of exhaustion in his face and eyes closed in sleep told of bone-weary fatigue, but there was something different that he sensed about Elrohir as well. Something that told the healer that his skills would be needed before he had his son back whole. As this was probably what his sons needed to talk to him about, Elrond reluctantly decided he’d have to pull himself away for at least a while and listen to what they had to say. He looked over at them, hovering worriedly in the doorway and with one last look at Elrohir, purposely strode from the room, closed the door, and joined his other sons.

Elrond sat in one of the chairs in the comfortable outer room and gestured for his sons to join him. He allowed himself a quick, longing look at Elrohir’s bedroom door, but then focused his attention on the two sons who were now sitting across from him. He was wise enough to know that he needed to hear whatever it was they were so desperate to tell him, even though all he wanted to do was to be with the child that had been lost to him for so long.

Elladan and Aragorn both had breathed a sigh of relief as they watched Elrond leave Elrohir’s side--Elrohir hadn’t awoken while he had been there, so they still had time to prepare their father for his possible reaction. Of course, now came the hard part of actually knowing what to say.

The brothers had naturally decided that it would be Elladan who did most of the talking--as the eldest he almost always ended up being the spokesman for the siblings, especially when they expected that Elrond’s reaction might be…well, less than pleasant.

But although the boys were expecting their father to be upset and hard to talk to, Elrond himself put them at ease when he softly smiled and said, “Very well, my sons, I am ready to hear what you have to relate to me. I promise I will listen faithfully, but I only request that you keep the narrative as short as possible, as I am quite anxious to sit with your brother.”

His sons were very relieved to hear this normal-sounding, reasonable statement from their father. They had both been concerned when Elrond had appeared so flustered earlier. This father--the composed, calm one--was one that they were familiar with and were much more comfortable talking to.

Knowing that he just had to start somewhere, Elladan took a deep breath and began, “Ada, I’m sorry we insisted on talking to you when I know you only wish to be with Elrohir right now, but there are some important things that you must know before you see him.”

After a gentle nod of understanding from Elrond, he continued, “It should come as no surprise to you that Elrohir had a very difficult time while he was missing. Obviously, only the most trying circumstances would have kept him from us for so long. And…the situation he was found in was most trying, indeed.”

Before continuing, Elladan looked at his brother questioningly, giving his brother one last chance to take over the narrative…this part of the story really belonged to Estel, so he should be the one to tell his father about how Elrohir had been found. The young man, however, gave a sharp shake of his head. He’d rather let Elladan do the talking for now and would fill in details only if it were necessary. He was by no means afraid to talk to his father, but now that they were home and the journey was complete, his emotions were playing disturbing games with him. The frustrations and heartache of those first long weeks when he had to deal with a very troublesome brother all alone were unexpectedly resurfacing now that they were finally safe and the responsibility of bringing his brother home was behind him. He was disturbed that his joy at being home was dampened by lingering, apparently unresolved feelings about his brother’s reaction to him. For now, this translated into a firm desire to not relive everything by having to tell the story himself, so he waited silently for Elladan to start the tale.

The young elf acknowledged his brother’s unspoken request and continued with a concerned grimace, “I don’t know of any way to soften this, Ada, nor lead up to it gently, so forgive me if what I say is distressingly blunt.” He paused a moment before continuing, “Ada, Estel found Elrohir in the western reaches, a…a slave with no memory of who he is. It has taken us many months to return home, but he…even after all that time, still has no recollections of his past. He remembers nothing of our lives here--not about our home and our ways and not about our people. He did not remember Estel, nor…nor even myself. And, Ada, I am deeply sorry but he will not remember you, either.”

At these words, Elladan stopped and looked at his father. How would the elven lord react to the knowledge that his son wouldn’t know him? Wouldn’t know anything about who or what he was? He studied his father’s face, hoping to catch a glimpse of his reaction thus far.

Elladan was unable to tell anything of his father’s thoughts by looking at him, though. Elrond’s face showed none of what he was feeling. In fact, he may just as well been receiving an account of the year’s grain harvest, so unaffected did he appear. Inside, however, the elven lord’s stomach was in knots. This was far worse than he’d feared. Physical wounds could be healed. Emotional wounds, however, the kind that had probably stolen his son’s memories, could destroy the soul. He had seen firsthand the lasting damage trauma could cause the psyche as he’d watched his beloved Celebrian fade away before his eyes--he couldn’t imagine the tragedy of seeing the same thing happen to one of his children. He forced himself to betray none of these fears to his son, however. He needed to hear all of what Elladan had to tell him and knew that an emotional reaction would only distress his sons.

Finally, realizing that he’d get no response from his father at this point, Elladan continued, “We don’t exactly know what happened to cause his memory loss. Other than what we directly observed and the scant details that Estel learned from those who had enslaved Elrohir, we have found no clues to how he was taken from us. He has told us nothing at all himself, which is not really surprising since, in fact…he only recently started speaking at all.”

At that, an unintentional frown flickered across Elrond’s face, causing Elladan to pause for a moment. So this news, apparently, disturbed his father. Did it mean that Elrond thought that something was gravely wrong with Elrohir? Did he recognize that behavior as a symptom of something that would bode ill for his brother? With an unhappy frown of his own, Elladan decided to go into more detail about just what condition their brother was in when they first found him, hoping that with more information, his father, Middle Earth’s greatest healer, would tell him that he knew exactly how to heal his twin. “Ada,” he said, “when Estel found Elrohir and when I first joined them, Elrohir was much worse than you’ll find him now. He was quite hostile, not recognizing Estel at all and became violent when touched. As well, he would speak to no one. Estel, of course, could only guess that Elrohir did not recognize him, based on the expression in his eyes as well as his hostile reactions.”

Elladan once again paused, but then almost huffed in frustration as he saw his father, expressionless, waiting for him to continue. He wished his father would give some kind of sign as to what he was thinking!

“At any rate,” he continued with a slightly irritated scowl, “Estel arranged to buy him, but Elrohir was very antagonistic at first and wouldn’t go with him. The overseer, in some sort of misguided attempt to help, gave Elrohir a rather potent mixture of herbs to subdue him, which left him dazed but relatively obedient. They apparently had used this periodically to keep Ro compliant, so that could have been affecting his reactions to Estel earlier…we just don’t know. And before you ask, Ada, we don’t know what the drugs were, but we do have a sample with us for you to examine later.”

Elrond glanced over at his young human son, and was surprised to see that he was looking rather miserable at the moment. He was just starting to realize that the trip had been quite difficult for them all--not just Elrohir, but all his sons. He knew he’d have to find the time to speak to each of them individually and comfort them at some point, but for now, he still needed to hear the rest of what had happened to his lost child.

Knowing that his own serene behavior could reassure his sons, Elrond finally spoke for the first time since Elladan began his story, “I will be very interested in testing the herbs. Thank you for bringing them home. Have they seemed to have any lasting effects on your brother?”

Elladan and Aragorn both shook their heads. “Nay,” answered Elladan. “They did last quite a while…months in fact. But they now have apparently worn off. Elrohir had an accident several weeks ago and ever since then, we have seen no signs of lingering effects from the drugs.”

“Accident?” asked Elrond, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes…” began Elladan, rather hesitantly. This was the one part of the story that he really didn’t feel like relating, and turned to his little brother for help.

With a small, understanding smile, Aragorn took over the tale, “You see, Ada, Elrohir reacted to us very…inconsistently, for the longest while. I believe it was the fault of the drugs, for he shows none of that behavior now. But from the time I found him until the accident, he would flit between being friendly, then antagonistic, and then mindlessly obedient. We never knew which of those behaviors would come forth when dealing with him, which was rather confusing of course, but that is not exactly what caused the accident. That came about when he was in one of his obedient modes. I asked him to sit down and get some dinner and he apparently took me too literally, for he did sit down but then grabbed the cookpot, burning his hands rather badly.”

Aragorn looked over to his brother, not wanting to relate the next part if Elladan wanted to keep it for some later date. His brother, however, gestured for him to continue.

“The aftermath of the accident was even more of a problem. Things became a bit…tense…and some unfortunate things were said and as a result, Elrohir ran away from us,” Aragorn said, satisfied that he described the most important point without putting any blame on Elladan.

Elrond was certainly able to read between the lines--it was clear that Elladan was unhappy with his part in this particular scene, so he had apparently been the one who had said ‘unfortunate things.’ He would definitely have to get details later, but for now, Elrond wanted to find out what happened next. Gently he said, “Go on…”

Elladan once again took up the narrative, pleased that his father was not asking for specifics right now, “It was the morning after he was injured that we found him. Actually, he called to us--it was the first time he’d spoken at all and it seemed to be a turning point. Since that time, he has slowly come to trust us and now interacts with us in an almost normal fashion. He hasn’t displayed any of those strange behaviors since that time, either, and has been quite personable. The only remaining problem, other than his hands, is his lack of memory.”

“You say he trusts you. How does he feel about others?” Elrond wanted to know. If his son saw himself as a slave, he may have trouble interacting with people he did not know.

“We don’t know, Ada,” answered Aragorn. “We came across Minalus on the outskirts of the forest and Erestor in the halls, but Elrohir was asleep for both those encounters. Other than those times, we kept to the less-traveled paths and had not met up with anyone, so we do not know if his early hostile reactions were a product of the drugs or something else. Thus, we are concerned with how he will react to seeing strange faces, Ada. And we don’t know if he will still have problems with any sort of physical contact. And…so we don’t know if he will be upset when he first sees you.”

Elrond pondered their words as he considered all the other questions he still had. So his son might be disturbed by his presence? That was a heartbreaking thought. And what other unhappy surprises might be waiting for him? He knew that there had to be a lot of details that he hadn’t heard yet, but didn’t know where he should start with his questions. How long had Elrohir been held a slave? What sort of cruelties had he suffered? How had the other slaves treated him? Had he been befriended by any of them or had he been all alone? Was the slavemaster unduly harsh? Had Elrohir been beaten? Did he remember any of his old skills? Archery? Swordsmanship? Riding? Did he display any part of his old personality?….and so on. Elrond could have launched into any number of questions, but instead decided to hold back. He had the key details he needed, so the rest could wait until after he’d spent some time with his son.

Having decided that he’d heard enough for now, he glanced over at his other two boys, who were looking at him miserably. He wanted to go to Elrohir, but first things first! These boys needed to be reassured that he was not upset by their news and that he would handle his first moments with their brother wisely. But more importantly, his boys needed to know just how proud he was of them. Despite the hardship he knew they must have faced, they persevered and had brought Elrohir home at last.

Elrond stood up and walked to them, wordlessly pulling to their feet and then wrapping them both in a warm hug. After several long moments while the three of them simply held each other, he spoke softly to them, “You know I am so proud of you two. It is apparent that the journey home has been difficult in the extreme for you, yet you have endured and brought your brother safely to me. Elrohir could have no better brothers than you two…and I could have no better sons. Thank you for what you have done and…for just being you.”

After releasing them, he continued, “And now, dear ones, I believe your beds are calling you.” He held up his hand as they began to protest. “I understand that you wish to remain here and ensure that Elrohir’s reaction to being home is a calm one, but you will be too tired to be much good in the morning if you do not find any rest. I promise I will take care to do nothing startling in case he awakens before your return in the morning, but for now, I will sit with him alone while you find rest in your chambers.”

With the thought of their inviting beds beckoning them, Elladan and Aragorn suddenly realized just how tired they both were. Knowing from the tone their father had used that they would not be able to convince him to let them stay and honestly aching to be in bed, they relented, said their goodnights, and quietly went to their own rooms, content that they could turn their brother’s care over to someone else at long last.

--------------------

After seeing his other sons off to their beds, Elrond once more entered his middle son’s room and gazed down upon his sleeping boy. Now that he knew some small piece of what Elrohir had been through, his joy at seeing his son was tempered by great sorrow. “Oh, what did they do to you, my beautiful son?” he murmured quietly as he gently brushed some stray hairs off Elrohir’s forehead. His fingertips tingled at the contact. This was the first time he’d touched his boy in forever and the brief contact made him yearn for more. But he knew that physical touches had disturbed his boy before, so he decided he would leave him alone for now. He also fought the urge to simply waken him, just so he could at least see his son’s eyes and hear his voice. Instead, he fussed with the covers, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles until he realized with a sigh that there really was nothing he could do to help his son this night.

After standing and looking at Elrohir for endless moments, he finally pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, determined to keep a silent vigil over the sleeping elf until he awoke. After only a short time, however, he found himself fidgeting, something that was completely foreign to the typically serene elf. Restless and unable to sit still, Elrond found himself drawn to the window and the stars that he could see shining brightly in the night sky. Always they were a source of comfort to him and he hoped that they could help him find peace this night.

As he leaned on the windowsill and looked out into the dark, Elrond thought about what he’d learned of Elrohir’s ordeal. Unfortunately, he realized that the stars would bring no comfort as he considered all that his child had endured. One of his incredible sons--a slave! Beaten, tormented, all alone without even the comfort of knowing that there were those who loved him. These thoughts were almost more than a father could bear, but rather than causing him to despair, Elrond found himself fighting a nearly overpowering anger as he imagined his son’s life over the past few years. Only the knowledge that his son was safe beside him kept him from flying into a rage. That, and the understanding that Elrohir waking up to the scene of an elven lord in his full fury would most certainly frighten the young elf. As it was, Elrond remained near the window, trembling with anger and wishing that he could find someone to punish for what they’d done to his precious son.

After standing there long enough to finally regain control, he walked over to the bed, reassuring himself once more that Elrohir was as well as could be expected. As he once more fought the urge to take him into his arms, he railed against the fates that had restored his son to him, but still denied him the chance to hold his dear child in a protecting embrace.

Frustrated and unable to settle anywhere, he continued to pace the room restlessly. Finding his way back at the window, Elrond sighed and looked back at the stars, still unable to find any solace in their soft beauty this night. The long-held feelings of doubt and guilt once more surfaced as he wondered if he could have spared Elrohir any of his trials if he’d listened to Elladan immediately. Was it his own fault that his son now lay there, all knowledge of who and what he was stolen away by some as yet unknown trauma?

The elven lord felt ill as he contemplated just what his hesitation may have cost his son. What sort of impact had all this had on him? Whether or not he regained his memories, would his spirit be forever scarred by his brutal past? Was the brave warrior who valiantly fought against evil gone forever? And the loving brother and son…was he, too unreachable? And what about the light-hearted sprite full of mirth and joy who had graced Rivendell with his merry ways for millennia? Had he vanished as well? Was there anything left of their Elrohir other than just a physical shell? There were so many questions that only could be answered with time, but Elrond wasn’t sure if he wanted to find the answers if it meant that his son was truly lost to him.

Only once before had Elrond faced a similar crisis when he’d feared for his sons’ souls. After they had found their mother, tormented nearly to death by orcs, it had been centuries before the twins recovered enough for their true natures to brightly shine through. In those intervening years, they had been but sad and angry reflections of their former selves and Elrond feared that they might be facing the same thing again. Would it be more eternal, gloomy years before Elrohir would be truly restored to them? Or worse yet, had he, like his mother, suffered so much that he’d never recover? And what of Elladan? Yes, Elrond knew that he must worry for both twins, for he knew that if Elrohir’s spirit should fall into darkness, his twin’s would most surely follow.

Elrond allowed himself to plunge deeper into bleak misery as he imagined a future filled with sadness. At some level, he knew this conjecture was premature since he didn’t yet know yet the extent of the damage done to Elrohir, but he found himself unable to break out of his self-imposed despair. The guilt he felt certainly was feeding it, and he may have spent the next several hours lost in doubt and grief, except for a small sound from the bed that diverted his attention.

He quickly crossed the room to where Elrohir lay and frowned as he saw that Elrohir had suddenly become restless, tossing back and forth in the obvious throes of a nightmare. Considering how exhausted Elrohir had been and how deeply he’d been sleeping, a nightmare was certainly not unexpected, but Elrond found himself wondering what he should do about it. In times past, Elrond would know exactly how to soothe away his son’s fears, but now he found himself uncertain as to how he should proceed. Even though Elrohir had apparently allowed his brothers to touch him, the elven lord was under no illusions that this meant that his son would not react negatively if he did the same. Still, he couldn’t just stand there and watch his son battle an unknown foe without at least trying to reassure him.

Tentatively, Elrond reached out and put a light hand on his son’s shoulder. Elrohir’s unconscious reaction was immediate as he turned his face toward the hand and seemed to try to get closer to the comfort it offered. Encouraged by this response and thrilled for the opportunity to have any sort of contact with his son, Elrond gingerly sat on the bedside and then used his other hand to tenderly stroke his face. To his surprise and delight, Elrohir’s distressed frown lessened at this new contact and prompted Elrond to take a final, bold step. His heart thudded loudly as he threw caution to the wind and did what he’d longed to do all night, arranging himself comfortably against the headboard and pulling his agitated son into his arms. With this last move, Elrohir’s restless movements disappeared completely as he relaxed into his father’s arms, peaceful at last.

Elrond grinned as he leaned back and gave his son a small squeeze, feeling like he had as a small elfling when he’d done something naughty. His intellectual side had been insisting that he give Elrohir time and space to get to know him before he attempted any form of contact, but his heart had been yearning to do exactly what he was doing right now. As he looked at the beloved face just inches from his own and felt the solid, warm body in his arms, Elrond smiled in contentment as he came to the firm conclusion that sometimes…sometimes you just had to forget about being wise and listen to your heart.

---------------------

The rest of the night passed quietly for father and son as Elrond held his child. His presence kept Elrohir’s nightmares from returning while Elrohir’s presence distracted Elrond from his earlier depressed thoughts. Together, they were content.

Elrond didn’t sleep at all, though, while he held his son. The years of worry and sleepless nights had drained the elven lord, but the overriding joy of having his son back and safe in his arms kept him wide awake all night, unwilling to give up even a moment of his happiness by losing it to sleep.

He wasn’t idle, however. The healer in him used this opportunity to examine his son as best he could without releasing him from his arms. Overall, Elrohir was in much better shape than Elrond would have thought. True, he was worn out, but other than that, his hands were the only injury that needed any kind of attention and they appeared to be well on their way to being healed. His heart swelled with pride at the wonderful job his other sons had done in caring for Elrohir. Their healing skills were evident when he noted that Elrohir’s hands would fully heal due to their meticulous attention. He wished he could know how Elrohir’s other problems would turn out--the loss of memory as well as the possible emotional scars from his years of hardship, but Elrond knew he’d have to wait to find those answers. As it was, he decided to take one moment at a time and for now, he was content to simply have his son back.

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Elrohir finally began to awaken early the next morning, a slow arduous process as he pulled himself out of his exhausted sleep. His first awareness was the sensation of someone holding him. Comforted and assuming it was one of his brothers, he adjusted himself slightly as he got more comfortable and then slipped once again into a restful sleep. About an hour later, he awoke a second time, but this time was aware enough to note several unexpected things. First, he was no longer outside, but in a beautifully decorated room. Second, he was in a soft, warm bed. And third, it wasn’t one of his brother’s holding him.

He tilted his head up so he could look into the face of the one who cradled him so gently. It was an older male elf. One who looked down at him with such love and tenderness that it was impossible to feel any alarm. He couldn’t quite figure out just where he was and who could be holding him, but he knew that he’d never felt so safe in his life.

The elven lord couldn’t read any of these thoughts in Elrohir’s confused expression, however, and tried to suppress the feeling of sick dread in his stomach that accompanied his son’s waking. He had treasured holding his son throughout the night and wouldn’t have traded that time with him for anything, but he hadn’t planned to be holding him when Elrohir awakened. He had planned to lay him back down hours ago so that he wouldn’t startle him when he awoke. But every time he had considered it, he had chosen to keep holding his son, ‘for just a few more moments.’ Kicking himself mentally for allowing his selfish need to hold his son get in the way of doing the wise thing, he had to force himself to not show any of his uncertainties as he spoke to his son for the first time in almost three years.

As Elrohir looked around in sleepy bewilderment, the elf addressed him in a deep, low voice, “Welcome home, dear one. I’ve waited so long for your return.” He paused a long moment before continuing, “Do you know who I am?”

Elrond held his breath as he waited for his son’s answer. This was the moment of truth. Although he’d been warned by his other sons that Elrohir had lost all his past memories, in some way he’d felt sure that his case would be different--his child wouldn’t forget his father. A troubled look answered his question, however, even before Elrohir shook his head, his brow crumpled in confusion. With a small sigh, Elrond was forced to accept the unwelcome truth. His son didn’t know him.

The sharp pang of sorrow and hurt were set aside as Elrond quickly worked through what to tell Elrohir now. He would examine his own feelings later, but for now he must concentrate on making sure that Elrohir didn’t react badly to him. Hoping against hope that Elrohir wouldn’t become frightened and try to pull away, Elrond said soothingly, “Do not be alarmed. You’re home now in Imladris...and quite safe.”

With a warm smile gracing his face, Elrond risked running his thumb lovingly along Elrohir’s cheek as he added, “Your brothers tell me that you have a bit of trouble remembering, so I would introduce myself. I am Elrond, your father--and I am so very happy to see you.”

As Elrond waited for Elrohir to say or do something, he studied his son’s face, wondering what his reaction would be and what was going through his thoughts. What did one think when they woke up in a stranger’s arms and then were told that the stranger was their father? Knowing he had heard only a fraction of the hardships that Elrohir had endured, Elrond hoped that he’d at least be able to reassure the young elf that he wouldn’t hurt him. He considered laying him back on the bed, but for the moment, his son hadn’t tried to pull away, so he held on to him, cherishing the feeling of the living, breathing son who looked up at him.

Elrond would have been amazed and immensely gratified by his son’s thoughts. Far from being full of the hostility and anger that the elven lord had feared, Elrohir was strangely content. As he considered what he’d just heard, he looked with wonder at the elf in whose arms he still rested. This was his father. This amazing elf who simply radiated strength, power, and love was his father! Not at all alarmed, Elrohir’s thoughts were filled with delight. What did one say? ‘Hello?’ ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you?’ It simply wasn’t enough. An incredible joy and warmth grew inside him as he took in everything...he was home--and he belonged with this unbelievably wonderful elf holding him!

Knowing that words couldn’t adequately express what he was feeling, Elrohir instead did something he wouldn’t have imagined he would ever do and would have shocked his brothers. Wordlessly, he twisted in his father’s arms and, catching Elrond completely by surprise, wrapped his own arms around him in the tightest hug he could manage. It was nothing like the firm, strong hugs that Elrond was accustomed to from his sons, but it was so sweet that the elven lord found his vision blurred by tears as he tightened his own arms around Elrohir. With eyes closed in gratitude, he choked back a sob as he kissed the top of his son’s head and thanked the heavens for the unexpected and priceless gift of his son’s acceptance.

********************

Neither father nor son moved for many moments, both of them thrilled at the unexpected joy of their reunion. Elrohir, however, was still weakened from exhaustion and eventually had to drop his arms. The young elf fell back tiredly but was caught firmly by his father.

As he settled back into the strong arms holding him, he gazed up at the face looking down into his. A flash of alarm shot through Elrohir as he saw a frown marring the older elf’s visage and a glint of tears in his eyes. Had he done something wrong? He looked quickly away but then briefly allowed his eyes to flit once again to his father’s face. The other elf’s frown had actually deepened. Suddenly, Elrohir was uncertain about what he’d just done. His reaction had been purely instinctive--if he’d paused to consider, in all likelihood he would never have thrown himself at one who was in reality a complete stranger. What if his father didn’t like physical contact any more than he did? What if his father had only been holding him in his capacity as a healer? Elladan and Estel had spoken much of their father’s healing skills--perhaps he had mistaken a healer’s touch for a father’s love. What if he had completely misread the situation and had now upset the elven lord with his forward behavior?

As he considered what he should do or say now, two fingers under his chin gently lifted Elrohir’s head until he was once more looking at his father.

The elven lord hadn’t realized that his concern over his son’s weakness has translated itself into a rather severe looking frown. So he was mystified at what had caused his son to suddenly seem hesitant and was distressed to feel Elrohir tense up in his arms.

The awkwardness caused by the mutual misunderstanding might have continued, but Elrohir, in an attempt to make things right said apprehensively, “I…I’m sorry.”

“For my…for the…,” Elrohir stammered as he struggled to find the right words. What could he say? ‘Sorry for throwing myself at you?’ ‘Sorry for presuming a relationship that may not exist?’ He gestured emptily with his arms as he tried to think of what to say.

Fortunately, the insight that allowed Elrond to skillfully lead his people for millennia also helped the elven lord understood what was bothering his boy.

“My dear, dear son,” he said as he tightened his arms around Elrohir once more. With his voice muffled as he buried his head on his son’s shoulder, he continued, “Do not misunderstand my concern. I only worry for your well-being--you have nothing to be sorry for.” He pulled back so his son could see the truth in his eyes as he continued. “In my long life, there have been few other moments that have given me as much joy as this time with you. You have made me happier than you can know. Please…do not apologize for anything.”

Elrohir smiled shyly at the elf, grateful that he hadn’t done anything to distress him. He still couldn’t believe this incredible being was his father!

A soft knock halted any further conversation as they both looked over at the door.

It slowly cracked open and then a dark head peeked around its edge. It was Elladan, coming to check if his twin had awakened. He hadn’t expected to find his father sitting against the headboard with Elrohir lying contentedly in his arms—the scene caused him to stop abruptly in the doorway in surprise.

Elladan jerked his head around and answered his little brother distractedly, “Uh...yes.”

“Then go in,” said Aragorn louder as he prodded his older brother in the back. Just what had gotten in to Elladan?

Aragorn figured that out a moment later when he pushed the door open all the way and saw the same scene that had stunned his brother. ‘And just how had this happened?’ he wondered. When they’d left the night before, Elrond had implied that he would stay away from Elrohir, but now it looked like they’d known each other forever. Which, he noted confusedly, they had, but….

“Good morning,” said Elrond with amusement as he watched his two mystified sons came over to their brother’s bedside.

“Elladan, Estel,” exclaimed Elrohir, forgetting his fatigue in his excitement. “This is my father!”

As soon as he said it, Elrohir realized what a ridiculous thing that was to say. Elrond was, after all, their father as well! He blushed furiously in embarrassment. Oh, Valar, he felt stupid!

But his brothers, who in times past would have gleefully welcomed such a marvelous opportunity to tease him, instead made no mention of his painfully obvious statement as they made themselves comfortable on the edge of the bed. In fact, they shared a contented look before Elladan reached over and gently squeezed his twin’s shoulder.

That simple statement covered a whole range of sentiments: ‘I’m so glad our family is back together,’ ‘I’m so glad you accepted him,’ ‘I’m so glad you’re here.”

Aragorn also smiled warmly at Elrohir, although deep down inside, he acknowledged that tiny piece of him that felt a bit hurt. Just why had Elrohir found it so easy to trust and accept Elladan and their father, but had fought him so bitterly? He knew that the unique bond between the twins could have caused Elrohir to accept Elladan, but what about their father? Was this just a sign that no matter how hard he tried, Aragorn could never really, truly be a full member of the family? As he looked at the twins and his father, he decided to push aside those disturbing thoughts for now, dismissing them as petty and selfish in the face of the happiness the others were exuding. He knew he’d have to unbury them some other time and decipher what this all really meant to him, but for now he’d focus on being happy that everyone was back together.

The rest of the day was idyllic for the entire family as Elrohir rested in his room. Elrond, Elladan, and Aragorn pulled up chairs around his bedside and had a marvelous time catching up on all the news in Rivendell as well as sharing tales of the brothers’ adventures. Elrohir was mostly silent, but soaked in the laughter and love with an almost unbelieving delight. Just months ago he’d seen his future as a bleak expanse of hardship and loneliness. But now...now he was surrounded by a warm happy family who seemed overjoyed to be with him! It was almost too much to accept.

Elrohir’s family was concerned about overwhelming the young elf or overtiring him, so took care that no one else would enter the room that first day. Although there were many friends who were aching to see their young prince returned, Elrond was firm that he would wait until he was convinced that Elrohir was ready before allowing anyone in to see him. This was made easier by the fact that a good many of the realm’s warriors were currently out on patrol, since there were many amongst that group, including the twins’ long-time friend and mentor Glorfindel, who would have been clamoring to see Elrohir right away.

By the end of the day, however, the challenge facing Elrond didn’t seem to be keeping others away from Elrohir, but rather keeping Elrohir in bed when the stubborn young elf determined that he should be allowed up.

When Elladan returned from the kitchens with a tray laden with their dinner, Elrohir decided that he was fit to sit up at the small table in his room rather than lay back in bed and allow the others to spoonfeed him.

“I do not wish to lay down while I eat,” he was announcing rather firmly as his twin entered the room. “I’m fine!” he continued, sitting up to prove it.

Elrond, however, had to reach out quickly to catch his willful young son when he nearly passed out from light-headedness.

“Just...sat up a bit too fast,” Elrohir said with shaky defiance and a glare for his brothers.

The two of them were exchanging a ‘look’ and struggling not to laugh at him as they enjoyed the sheer familiarity of the scene. This was so typical of Elrohir that for a brief moment they could almost forget the last difficult months and the preceding years of sadness. Of them all, Elrohir was normally the most congenial and easy-going, but when he chose to be willful, he was by far the hardest to budge and it was nice to know that some things hadn’t changed.

Elrond managed to silence his amused sons with a look of his own and turned to Elrohir, who was struggling to sit up again. He held his son’s shoulders down carefully, uncertain as to how his son might react to being forcefully handled.

“You will lay down and stay in bed until I decide you are fine,” he said a bit sternly. Then he continued in a much gentler tone, “You have only just returned to us, young one, so you will have to be patient with us as we feel the need to spoil you a bit.”

The look Elrohir gave his father as he smiled softly and nodded was one of pure adoration, leaving his brothers bursting with curiosity. How, in all of Arda, had their father won him over so quickly? Just what had happened during the night? Their curiosity was left unanswered, though, since Elrond briskly directed them to place a small table over by the bed so the family could gather near Elrohir while they ate.

After dinner, Elrond could see that Elrohir was starting to look fatigued, so after some quietly whispered words to him, he left for the night, admonishing the others to leave as well after their own good-nights. These were accomplished in short order and abruptly Elrohir found himself alone. It was the strangest feeling. Always before, he’d been restrained in some fashion, been in the company of his brothers, or was being chased by someone. Now, for the first time he could remember, he was alone and no one was controlling his actions. It was an astonishing feeling that gave him a sense of freedom that he couldn’t ever remember having before.

Excited and now wide awake, Elrohir contemplated what he should do. He knew that his father and brothers would fuss if they found him out of bed, but he was too restless to stay there any longer and if truth be told, was intensely curious about this new life that he’d woken up in and knew that this room--his room--would be able to give him some clues about his lost past.

He sat up slowly, remembering the last time he’d sat up too fast and was relieved to find himself light-headed for only a moment. As the feeling quickly passed, he swung his legs around until his feet touched the floor.

He was dressed only in thin sleeping garments, but the room was comfortably warm. He wondered briefly who had changed his clothes, but was quickly distracted by the contents of the room.

So…this was his room. And all the things in it were somehow a piece of his past. He walked around slowly, actually feeling like an interloper peeking into someone else’s life. Nothing seemed familiar as he took in every detail, not touching anything as he studied the items carefully. Some half-made arrows on a corner table told of a long ago project started and never completed. Did he know how to make arrows? And moreover, did he know how to use them? He supposed he would have or they wouldn’t be here, but couldn’t remember ever even holding a bow, so what had he used them for? Was he a hunter of some sort? Or some kind of warrior? Or were the arrows used to fuel a simple hobby? For the first time, he began to be fully conscious that he had lost more than just his family and way of life, but also a true sense of who he was. What he was.

Putting aside the intriguing questions as well as a hint of melancholy created by those thoughts, he continued his trek around the room, noting with interest the many items that attested to a rich and full life: a bookshelf nearly overflowing with many thick volumes, including a whole section on the medicinal uses of herbs; a bin of old child’s toys in a corner, obviously worn and well-loved; several delicate pieces of pottery, begging the question of why he would have chosen these particular pieces to grace his room; an entire shelf of odd trinkets, perhaps collected over a lifetime and each with its own story; and a sturdy wooden frame obviously designed to hold a sword although currently empty. He glanced back over at the arrows and then back to the sword stand--was this another clue that he had been a soldier of some sort?

Knowing there would be only questions and no answers this night, Elrohir kept moving around the room, coming next to a large wardrobe which stood against the far wall. It was closed tightly and Elrohir had no way of opening it without using his hands, so after a cursory glance, he walked past it to the final corner and there stopped, transfixed. Resting on a glossy wooden shelf stood a beautifully made lap harp and next to it, a small silver flute. These final items interested him more than any of the other items had. Were they his? Had he at some point been able to create music? Nearly breathless at the thought, he lightly ran his fingertips over the harp strings, haunted by the sweet sound of the notes that flowed from the lovely instrument. As the notes faded, he abruptly pulled away from the harp, for once grateful for the bandages covering his hands. If not for them, he could have picked up the harp or the flute and learned whether or not he could play them. For now, he didn’t want to find out and suddenly couldn’t bear to think of everything he had lost when his former life had been stripped from him.

Climbing dejectedly back into his bed he lay awake for many hours, unable to sleep as he tried to imagine the life that he had had before and the huge contrast it made to the only one he could remember. Since his rescue by Estel, he hadn’t permitted himself to dwell at all on his time as a slave, but he knew that he couldn’t escape the reality that it was the only thing he knew how to be. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that simple exhaustion finally overcame his troubled thoughts and the tired, lost elf drifted into a fitful sleep.

The first sensation that Elrohir had the next morning was one of complete disorientation as he woke up warm and comfortable in a room that would be considered beautiful by anyone’s standards. He was still half asleep, so it took him a moment before everything snapped into place and he remembered where he was.

Unlike the previous day when he’d woken up in his father’s arms, this time he was alone and was able to sit quietly for a few minutes while trying to get used to this new reality. His gloom from the night before hadn’t completely faded, but it was easier to be more hopeful with the morning sun streaming through the windows and a light autumn breeze causing the leaves to dance just outside his room.

Elrohir pondered his situation. He was no longer Dan the silent elven slave, or even Elrohir the somewhat confused brother of Elladan and Estel--from this point on he would have to be Lord Elrohir of Imladris and son of the mighty Lord Elrond. What would that mean? The uncertainties that had plagued the last few days of his journey came back full force as he tried to imagine filling such a role. What did he know about life in a royal elven household? For that matter, what did he know about life in any kind of polite society, royal or not? If someone needed to know the best times to harvest crops, or the proper way to load carts, or even how to avoid beatings from the overseer...well, maybe he wasn’t the expert on that last item...but on the other ones he could give some sort of opinion. However, on being an elven lord…!

Minutes ticked by as he tried to imagine himself in such a role. Failing that, he finally turned to the more practical question of what he should be doing right now. He wasn’t sure if he should be staying in bed or if someone was waiting for him to get up. Should he be getting dressed? And if he should, what should he be wearing since he couldn’t see his old clothes anywhere. He was full of questions this morning, but didn’t know where to look for answers. Even if his pride would allow him to ask his brothers for help, he wouldn’t even know where to start looking for them.

Deciding finally that he’d rather be up and doing the wrong thing than lying in bed doing nothing, he slid to the floor and started looking for something to wear. The obvious place to find something would, of course, be the large wardrobe that he’d noticed the night before. Unfortunately, it was still shut tight, though, and he wasn’t sure how to open it, his bandaged hands preventing him from grasping the knob and turning it. Stubbornly determined to find a way in, he tried using just his fingertips, but that didn’t work. Next, he tried his chin and shoulder, and finally, his elbows. He was becoming quite frustrated when he heard a chuckle from behind him.

The young elf whirled about in shock as he hadn’t heard anyone come in the room. He had never allowed anyone to sneak up on him before, so he regarded his brother with a mix of alarm and irritation. “What are you laughing at?” he demanded.

“Nothing...nothing,” protested Elladan, but spoiled it by grinning. “Why don’t you let me do that?” he added.

Elrohir brushed the hair from his face with the back of his arm and said with annoyance, “I can manage.”

Elladan’s amusement faded as he regarded his twin. This was just one more reminder that even though they had managed to get Elrohir safely home and there had been some signs of the old Elrohir, he was far from being the same as before. This easily-provoked version of his twin was a far cry from the lighthearted elf of old. Picking his words carefully so as not to further annoy his brother, Elladan said sincerely, “I wasn’t making fun...I only wish to help.”

Elrohir stepped away from the wardrobe and sighed, realizing that his reaction had been unnecessarily testy. “I cannot get this open,” he stated in frustration. “I was hoping to look inside and find something to wear.”

“Then you are in luck, brother,” said Elladan with a smile. “For that is why I’m here. Ada sent me to tell you that you could get out of bed this morning if you were feeling up to it, which apparently you are. But until your bandages are removed and you can truly manage on your own, I am going to continue to help you as I did on our journey home. For now, that means helping you find something to wear and get dressed before Estel and Ada join us for breakfast”

With that, the elder twin opened up the wardrobe, enjoying watching his brother’s reaction when he saw the many garments within. For someone who had only had the rags on his back, this was an incredible cache of riches, and he almost gasped in astonishment. The clothes within weren’t fussy or frilly, but the rich fabrics and the quality of their cut clearly marked them as ones you would expect to find on an elven lord.

“These are yours,” corrected Elladan with a smile. “Do you have a preference for today?”

Elrohir looked again at the many garments in wonder. How were you supposed to choose? Were there any rules on what you should wear and when? Fearing that he’d get things wrong right away, he shook his head and said, “You choose, please.”

Nodding without comment, Elladan turned back to the closet and started rifling through its contents until he found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, pulling out a simple midnight blue tunic embellished by a thin braid of silver trim on each sleeve. “This was always a favorite of yours and is perfect for today.”

He laid the tunic on the bed and opened up the other side of the wardrobe, which had a series of drawers filled with even more unseen treasures. He took out some dove gray leggings and soft, dark gray boots. Without any fuss, he helped Elrohir into his clothes and then stood back, pleased with his efforts.

“You look great, Ro,” said Elladan, trying not to feel emotional at the comforting normality of having the two of them preparing for the day. He pulled the wardrobe door open the rest of the way and gestured to the mirror on the back of it. “See what you think.”

Elrohir hadn’t realized that Elladan had been asking him to look in a mirror, so he had no warning before he came face-to-face with his reflection.

When he saw it, he staggered back in shock. The face that stared back at him was Elladan’s! Bewildered, confused, he looked in the mirror at his brother, who had walked up behind him. It looked like he was seeing a double image of Elladan. “Dan, we look…we look the same,” he stammered breathlessly.

In dazed reaction the younger twin continued to study the reflection of his brother behind him. It grinned back at him and said, “Aye. I realize our clothes do seem rather similar despite the different color, but I thought you might want to wear an old favorite. Do you not like it?” he added with just a touch of worry. He didn’t know why Elrohir would seem bothered by the similar clothes, but didn’t want anything to taint their first days home together.

But wasn’t the matching outfits that was bothering Elrohir. Still staring at his reflection in shock, which was amplified by seeing his brother behind him, he shook his head vigorously and said, “Nay. I don’t mean the clothes. I mean…us. Our faces. Our hair. Everything. It is the same!”

Elladan gave his brother a whimsical grin, “Of course we are alike. Twins often are, you know.”

“Twins!” shouted Elrohir as he turned around to face his image. “We are TWINS?! Did it never occur to you that I might like to have known about that? How could you not tell me we are twins!?”

If he had not been so upset, Elrohir might have found the open-mouthed look of utter shock on Elladan’s face humorous. He wasn’t amused, though, and stood glaring at his brother--his twin!!

Elladan said nothing as he faced his brother. Surely they had mentioned to him that the two of them were twins! In the months they had been traveling, either he or Estel must have said something. Didn’t they? From the look on Elrohir’s face, apparently not. He opened and closed his mouth several times still without saying anything. What could he say? It never occurred to him that Elrohir didn’t know they were twins. That was so much a part of who they were, that it would have been like telling Elrohir that they were elves. They just…were. He knew he’d better come up with something, though, because his twin was looking more and more angry as the moments passed.

“Ro...I am so sorry. I...thought you knew....I...” he stammered and then shook his head vigorously, pulling himself together. Starting over more coherently, he said clearly but with feeling, “Elrohir, I am sorry I did not tell you. I assure you it was not kept from you purposely. It is just who we are, so it simply did not occur to me that you would have to be told. Did you not wonder why we looked so much alike?”

Elrohir scowled as he answered, “Since I had never seen what I myself look like, I could hardly be aware that you looked the same.”

Closing his eyes for a moment as he winced, Elladan responded quietly, “Then I am doubly sorry, Ro. I did not realize.”

Elrohir regarded his brother silently as he tried to decide just how to react. Obviously, Elladan felt badly, so he really was unable to stay angry with him for more than those first few moments. But to find out that he was a twin...and an identical one at that...let alone the shock of unexpectedly finding out what you looked like…was staggering! His thoughts were reeling, but he truly didn’t want to have anything upset his first days at home, so after a deep breath and a swift mental lecture to himself not to overreact, he managed a wry smile and said, “So, we look alike. Tell me...have we ever used that to try to fool anyone?”

The quick change in mood startled Elladan, but after a just a moment, he grinned back at his brother. The following conversation was punctuated by great laughter as Elladan happily described some of their more ingenious pranks when they had taken advantage of their identical appearances. This could have gone on for hours as both of the twins were enjoying sharing this lighthearted look into their past as master pranksters, but after a while it was time for breakfast and the stories were put aside as Elladan led his brother into the outer room.

The morning meal had been set up in the common room adjoining the twin’s bedchambers, so Elrohir was able to venture out of his bedchamber, doubling his new world. As he looked around, Elladan explained to him that it had been a play area when they had been small, but over the years it had evolved into a comfortable room where they could relax and entertain friends and family. Elrohir noted several large chairs, bookshelves, a corner rack with various weapons, and off to the side, a medium-sized table that had a simple, yet delicious-looking meal placed in its center.

Aragorn walked into the room just after the twins, grinning his ‘good morning’ as he noted how wonderful it was to be with both his brothers again. The three of them took chairs at the table and started some playful bickering as they waited for their father.

Just as they were deciding that maybe he had been caught up by something else, the elven lord opened the door and entered. He paused for a moment after he closed the door behind him, still almost unbelieving that not only had Elladan and Estel returned home, but it was really Elrohir sitting there with them. One look at Elladan could dispel any doubts, though. His eldest was looking more content and alive than he had in years--Elrohir’s return had obviously done him a world of good. His eyes rested momentarily on Aragorn, who by contrast seemed to have a shadow hanging over him. Resolving to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering his youngest soon, he walked over to the table and greeted his sons.

“Good morning,” he said serenely. All his children were safe and accounted for—it was a good morning.

Elrohir looked over to his brothers for his cue on how to respond. Were they supposed to rise when their father approached? Keeping one’s seat in the presence of Lord Hebert had always been a sure invitation for harsh punishment. And while Elrohir wasn’t expecting to get beaten for keeping his seat improperly, he still didn’t want to appear disrespectful. But when he saw the others remain seated and his father take the last chair, Elrohir allowed himself to relax as he gave his father with his own greeting.

As the family began their first meal together in years, Elrohir was delighted to note that all the foods were prepared so that he could pick them up with his fingertips, meaning that he would not need assistance to eat, allowing him to feel less awkward in an already unfamiliar situation.

Elrond kept the conversation light as he outlined the plans for the rest of the day. He would be obliged to catch up on some work that had been hastily put aside with Elrohir’s return, but Elladan and Aragorn would be free to stay with Elrohir, showing him around Rivendell. That spurred on an excited conversation as the brothers began listing places that they wanted to show Elrohir.

Near the end of the meal, however, Elrond noted that his middle son didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the conversation any more.

“I am fine,” the young elf answered politely, if not completely accurately. While he was in fact feeling more worn out by the minute, he didn’t wish to appear weak or spoil his brothers’ enthusiastic plans for showing him around.

He couldn’t fool his father, of course. Raising an eyebrow in question, Elrond studied his son. “You are looking fatigued, Elrohir,” he said a bit firmly. “Are you certain you rested well? And I wish for an honest answer.”

Elrohir felt a sharp pang of concern. He didn’t want his father to think he was lying.

“I…I do not mean to deceive you,” he stammered. “I did sleep well…once I fell asleep. But I admit that it took me awhile, as I had much to think about.”

He looked wide-eyed at his father, wondering if he’d said the right thing. With a sigh, Elrond reached over and stroked his cheek, sad to think that his son appeared so unsure of himself.

“Relax, Elrohir,” he said gently. “I am not upset. I am merely trying to understand why you look so tired. It is my job as a healer, you understand, as well as my job as a father,” he finished with a smile.

Feeling awkward and hesitant but still pleased that he hadn’t angered his father, Elrohir gave him a quick smile of his own.

Elrond surprised all his sons, however, with his next words. “Now, I realize it is only mid-morning, but Elrohir, considering your fatigue I would like you to go back to bed and catch up on your missed sleep. You are looking far too pale and it would be well for you to rest for at least the remainder of the morning. I will reconsider the outing with your brothers after lunch.”

Inside, Elrohir welcomed not only the opportunity to rest, but also the chance to avoid exploring his new home. While he knew he’d have to meet others and learn his way around eventually, for now he felt that he had enough things to get used to and didn’t feel up to any taxing adventures just yet. He allowed none of those thoughts to show, however, as his brothers were visibly disappointed.

“You sound like children asking for a playmate to join them,” Elrond said with a fond smile. “But my answer is no. I wish for Elrohir to prepare for bed now.”

The elven lord was intrigued as Elrohir politely excused himself from the table and went to his chamber, followed by Elladan, whose self-appointed task it was to help him get ready for bed. Elrond watched the twins leave as he considered Elrohir’s behavior with interest. While his son showed many signs of being unfamiliar with their way of life, there was no way the young elf would have learned the impeccable table manners he had just displayed while living the life of a slave. He clearly still had many memories hidden within him that he would unconsciously bring out from time to time, and this gave Elrond confidence that the rest of his memories would somehow be reachable as well.

With that comforting thought, he turned to his last son still sitting at the table and studied him before he saying quietly, “Estel, while Elladan is assisting Elrohir, we have a few minutes alone. Is there something bothering you that I can help with?”

The young man was caught off-guard by his father’s question, unaware up until now that his distress was at all visible. But then he ruefully remembered that it was just about impossible to keep anything from the keen eyes of the elven lord. Of course, now he had to decide what to tell his father.

“Ada, I…” he stopped, not sure how to say what was on his mind without sounding childish.

The young man looked into the face of the elf before him. The wise, loving eyes reminded him that he should just say what was on his mind—his father would understand.

“It’s Elrohir,” he finally blurted. “I am overjoyed, of course, that he has been found and I know he’s had a difficult time and I don’t mean to sound like I’m unhappy he’s here and I understand that we’ve just barely returned, and…”

Aragorn abruptly stopped talking and looked at his father. Swiftly going over what he’d just said, he realized that he had, in fact, been babbling. With a short laugh, he acknowledged his father’s words.

Then serious again, he started over, “I am sorry Ada, let me try again. What I wanted to say was that I’m so glad Elrohir is home. You know I love him and would have given my very life to bring him back. It’s just…I feel so unsure around him now. It started on the trail, but I thought it would all change when we got home. However now it’s even worse. After seeing his response to you, I realized that it wasn’t just his bond with Elladan that made Elrohir accept him so quickly—he did the same with you. That tells me that his distrust of me was something to do with how he saw me, personally, not the way he sees everyone. I…don’t think he likes me,” he finished sadly.

The elven lord regarded the sad young man with love. Aragorn had grown into such a mature, confident, capable young man that sometimes the elven lord forgot just how young he still was. It was times like this, when the wisdom that would only come with age was so visibly missing that Elrond remembered that this remarkable son of his had just barely left his childhood behind.

“Give it time, son,” he advised. “You will come to see that your brother cares deeply for you.”

“But he wouldn’t even let me near him for the longest time. It was only after we met up with Elladan that things began to improve,” Aragorn explained dejectedly.

“From what I understand, your brother was living a very harsh existence when you found him. It is likely that he would have reacted badly and not trusting anyone at that point, myself and Elladan included. Perhaps it was the time with you, away from misery and unhappiness that allowed him to be able to accept your brother when he arrived,” Elrond explained.

“Nay, Ada,” answered Aragorn with unhappiness. “I wish that were true, but it doesn’t explain why acts differently with me now.”

“My son, do you treat him the same as you had in the past?” asked his father gently.

The question caused the young man to pause and think. Truthfully, he had been keeping his distance, at least emotionally, from Elrohir for quite some time. He hadn’t really thought about it, but could his own behavior be keeping his brother from him?

Slowly, he shook his head in answer to his father’s question, “You are right, Ada. I have not.”

“Then my advice, Estel, it to simply treat your brother as you always have, and he will come around in time,” Elrond guided with a smile.

Aragorn opened his mouth to answer, but Elladan, at that moment, opened the door and came out of Elrohir’s room, effectively ending the conversation. His father’s words had given him some hope, but Aragorn wasn’t ready to share his fears with everyone just yet, so with a wave to his brother and a “Thank you, Ada, I will think on what you have said,” for his father, he left, looking to find something to do to fill his time until Elrohir awoke and they could show him around their home.

Elladan, too, took his leave from his father, choosing to spend his free hours down in the barracks, hoping to find several of his friends around who were not currently out on patrol. It had been a long time since he’d last been home and was anxious to catch up on everyone’s news.

That left Elrond alone in the twins’ rooms, and after a brief hesitation, he cracked open the door to Elrohir’s room and glanced inside.

Elrond pushed the door open all the way and entered, gently chiding his son, “I wish for you to sleep, Elrohir, which you cannot do while you are sitting up.

Elrohir laid back down in bed after nodding quietly at his father’s words. As he did, however, Elrond caught just a hint of an expression that he hadn’t seen on his son’s face since he had been quite small. It was a touch of uncertainty that had long since been banished from the capable, strong young warrior that Elrohir had become. For now, though, Elrond recognized that his boy needed a bit of reassurance and was only too happy to provide it.

Gently brushing the hair away from his son’s face and then kissing his cheek, he murmured, “Rest, my son. All will be well. You sleep now, and I will sit with you for awhile.”

Full, warm, and deeply comforted by the presence of his father, Elrohir finally relaxed and without further word, fell deeply asleep almost immediately.

Even though he had many things that required his attention, Elrond couldn’t bring himself to leave his son’s side right away, content for awhile to sit and watch his child sleeping peacefully.

Elrohir woke up again, this time rested, several hours later and after a hearty lunch with his brothers, was talking quietly with them when their father poked his head in after a soft knock. “Are you ready for a visitor?” he asked to their surprise.

Aragorn, who had his back to the door and had been facing the twins, was troubled to see Elrohir visibly tense up at their father’s words. He was obviously unsure about the prospect of meeting someone else just yet, but before he could somehow convey that to their father, Elrond had pushed the door open and had walked in, followed by Glorfindel.

The brothers rose to their feet, Elladan and Aragorn moving forward to give their old friend and mentor a warm hug. Although Glorfindel wasn’t an actual relation, he was as dear to them as family and they had all saw him as sort of an honorary uncle as well as a good friend of their own.

Elrohir had also risen to his feet and waited politely to meet the elf that their father had escorted in. While he was greeting his brothers, Elrohir took the opportunity to study the new elf. He was tall, blond, and had such a commanding presence that Elrohir might have been alarmed if not for the comforting presence of his father and brothers.

“Elrohir, this is Lord Glorfindel,” said his father warmly. “He is a dear family friend and was quite anxious to see you. Please come say hello.”

The young elf regarded the blond elf and then nodded politely in greeting, while Glorfindel, for his part, was grinning from ear to ear.

“Ro! I came as soon as I’d heard you were back,” said Glorfindel cheerily. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”

With that, he reached out pull the young elf into an embrace as he had done with the others, but with lightning-quick speed, Elrohir grabbed his wrists and held them in a vice-like grip.

A hush fell over the room as everyone froze, startled by the completely unexpected reaction. Even Elrohir wasn’t moving—the old dread of contact had surprised him as much as any of the others. Elrohir knew that in the past he had had a violent hatred for any type of physical contact, but had thought that he was over reacting involuntarily after he’d gotten used to the physical affection of his family. Thus, he had been as surprised as the others at his response.

Glorfindel said nothing and made no move, watching to see what Elrohir would do next. He had initially been caught off guard, but quickly realized that his move toward the elf had been a foolish mistake and didn’t wish to compound it by reacting badly now. He now saw that whatever Elrohir had endured had obviously marked the young elf in hidden ways and he didn’t want to alarm him further.

After several long moments of awkward silence when no one moved, Elrohir slowly forced his fingers open and dropped Glorfindel’s wrists. It was only at that point that he started to feel pain and belatedly remembered that he still shouldn’t be using his lightly bandaged hands.

Ignoring the fiery stinging in his palms for the moment, he said woodenly, “I apologize, Lord Glorfindel. I...do not care for physical contact.”

Glorfindel glanced quickly over at Elrond to see if his friend wished to intervene, but a quick negative shake of his head indicated that he was going to let Glorfindel handle this. Thus, with a fond smile, the older elf shrugged and said, “Do not be concerned, Elrohir. I apologize myself for startling you. In my joy at seeing you again, I overlooked that you would have forgotten that I can be a bit…effusive at times…at least, I am when I’m with my favorite young ones. I really am glad to see you home again, Ro, and hope that in time you will come to realize what you and your family mean to me.”

Elrohir nodded tightly and tried to smile at the elf, touched by his words, but for now just wishing that Glorfindel would go away so that he could come to terms with what had just happened.

Either he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his thoughts, or Glorfindel knew him better than he knew himself, for the imposing elf stayed only a few more minutes before he took his leave, closely followed by Elrond.

After the two older elves left, reaction at last set in and Elrohir sank shakily onto one of the chairs, hugging his hands to his chest.

Embarrassed at causing such a scene, Elrohir shook his head and said, “I am fine.”

Aragorn couldn’t help rolling his eyes. And just how many times had they heard that from Elrohir in the past?

Elrohir fell back into the chair and closed his eyes. “Valar! I cannot believe I did that!” he said with a groan.

Elladan sat on the arm of the chair and cautiously put a hand on his shoulder, watching to see if his brother would pull away. Pleased to see that he didn’t, Elladan said, “Well, that was a bit surprising for us as well, but for now, please let us see those hands.”

Despite his own desire to make sure that Elrohir hadn’t damaged his hands, Aragorn laughed as Elrohir said again, “I’m fine!” and didn’t budge. He was always amused when the twins got into one of their contest of wills.

Elladan, of course, wasn’t amused, and was debating how to get his obstinate brother to show him his hands when their father reentered the room.

Moving directly in front of the dejected-looking elf, he said firmly, “Elrohir, let me see your hands.”

“I am....” a look from his father cut off the rest of his sentence. Since he was still cradling his hands against his chest, it was rather foolish to keep trying to convince the others that he was ‘fine.’

With a small sigh, Elrohir held out his hands, causing Elladan to shake his head in irritation at his stubborn twin. Why wouldn’t Elrohir just cooperate in the first place?

Elrond quickly unwrapped both hands, holding them delicately as he checked them for damage.

“I imagine they will sting a bit,” he finally said. “But you have not caused them any lasting harm.”

As he began to wrap them up again, the elven lord added casually, “Elrohir, no one will hurt you here. You must learn not to react to a simple touch.”

Acutely aware of that obvious fact, Elrohir only nodded, not meeting anyone’s eyes. He was quite embarrassed at what had happened, and hoped he wouldn’t be overreacting to anything else.

After the incident with Glorfindel, Elrond was beginning to reconsider allowing Elladan and Aragorn to show Elrohir around. If nothing else, he thought perhaps he should join them, for while Glorfindel had been understanding, others might not be and Elrond didn’t want any negative experiences to upset Elrohir’s reintroduction to their home. Still, he couldn’t keep his son trapped in his room forever and he didn’t want Elrohir to think he was making too big a fuss over what had happened, so with some quiet words to Elladan to watch carefully over his twin, the boys finally were allowed to leave and begin their tour.

Elladan and Aragorn’s first destination was a nearby balcony that overlooked the whole of Rivendell. They made it there without encountering anyone as it was located in the family’s private quarters, and soon the three were standing at the railing, looking into their lush, green valley.

Elrohir was stunned by the peaceful beauty he saw before him. It looked so calm and lovely, that he wondered how he could have ever left it in the first place. He was momentarily tempted to ask his brothers what they knew about his last days here, but then decided against it. He wasn’t ready to face whatever had caused his disappearance, so he left his questions unasked as he listened to his brothers describe the various landmarks before them.

After they left the balcony, they next headed to the kitchens. Although it seemed like an odd place to put near the top of their list, it had long been a favorite spot for all of Lord Elrond’s children and if there was any place where they would be sure to find warmth and kindness, it would be there.

To get there, however, they had to leave the private quarters and walk through the public areas of their home. If anything, Elrohir’s brothers were more nervous than he was as they walked out into the corridors, unsure how he would react to the other elves that they would most certainly come across.

Elrohir himself walked confidently, determined that no one would ever know how difficult he found this. It shouldn’t be hard, he told himself sternly. He had interacted with the people on Lord Hebert’s farm all the time. Of course, the major difference was that he actually cared what the people here would think of him. No allowing himself to even sigh at that thought, he kept his face impassive as he saw a couple of elves walking down the hall toward them.

“Greetings,” they said together, bowing first. Then the older male on the left said with a smile, “My lords, it is wonderful to see you! And Lord Elrohir, all of Imladris is rejoicing at your homecoming.”

Elrohir’s brothers watched him surreptitiously as they waited for his response. They almost betrayed their shock when he performed a short, perfectly executed bow and answered politely, “I thank you for your kind words. It is, indeed, good to be home.”

The elves exchanged a few more pleasantries and then went on their way, leaving Elladan and Aragorn to openly stare at Elrohir. Unlike Elrond, they hadn’t really noticed before that Elrohir from time to time would pull out several of his old behaviors, and thus hadn’t expected him to be able to so smoothly interact with others.

Elrohir felt a bit of triumph as he noted his brothers’ surprise. He was surprised himself that he had been able to so easily come up with the right words. Perhaps in the distant recesses of his mind, Elrohir retained some memory of his former life, for the slave persona seemed to fade to the background as he walked the halls of his home. This gave him his first bit of hope that somehow, somewhere, he’d find his memories again and he eagerly awaited his next encounter.

That came in the kitchens, where the brothers were faced with Lomelia, one of their very favorite elves of all times. She had been in charge of the large kitchens since long before any of them had been born and they had found her to be a great ally while they had been growing up. She had shown her fondness for Elrond’s children in a hundred different ways--late night snacks set aside for hungry little ones, favorite meals when they were feeling sad, special treats some times for no reason at all, and later in life, even helpful advice when they needed a woman’s opinion on something. Yes, she had been a treasured part of their lives, and so it was to her that Elladan and Aragorn brought their brother right away.

They hadn’t counted, however, on her reaction when she saw ‘her boys’ enter the kitchen. She dropped the bread dough she’d been kneading and rushed over, beaming through a sheen of tears. After a quick, but heartfelt hug that encompassed both Elladan and Aragorn at the same time, she turned to Elrohir, who had been standing off to the side, rather bemused.

“Oh, my poor, poor lamb!” she cried. “Let me look at you. Oh! You’re so thin! Don’t you worry, though…a few weeks of proper fattening up and you’ll be as good as new.” With that, she threw her arms around him and gave him a giant bear hug.

Aragorn stepped forward as if to warn her…or Elrohir…he wasn’t sure which, but then quietly stepped back when he saw the amused eyes of his middle brother looking at him over Lomelia’s shoulder. Immensely relieved, he grinned back, thankful that Elrohir wasn’t going to react badly to this lovely woman that they all adored.

Lomelia released Elrohir, opened up her big pantry doors, and then briskly began removing several items. She then placed them on a large tray and carried them over to the counter and gestured for the boys to join her for a mid-afternoon snack. The four of them stayed there for over an hour, chatting about everything and nothing as they enjoyed the shared company. While Elrohir was characteristically quiet, the others made up for it by being exceptionally loud and boisterous, ensuring the small reunion was a merry one. At last, however, Lomelia reluctantly had to go back to work in order to start preparations for the evening’s meal. With a promise to return soon, the brothers left, satisfied that they had found at least one more place that Elrohir would feel at home.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering the halls of their home while Elladan and Aragorn told tales of past events. They came across many other elves during these wanderings, all of whom expressed their great pleasure at Elrohir’s return. He, in turn, was able to respond to each of them pleasantly, causing his twin to reflect on how proud he was of the way Elrohir was holding up. He had even managed to resist any kind of reaction when one of the well-wishers had patted his shoulder in greeting. Although he hadn’t accepted the touch as gracefully as he had with Lomelia, he didn’t do anything startling, and by the end of the day, all three brothers were pleased with how the day had unfolded.

The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity as Elrohir’s reintroduction to Rivendell continued. First there was the bewildering parade of friends who came by to see the young elven lord—so many that he could only remember a fraction of their names. Then there the many tours led by his brothers, both inside and outside their home—there were so many rooms and passages that Elrohir still had a hard time just finding his way to the dining room! And then there were the piles of books and parchments that Elrohir poured over every chance he could get, trying to understand this foreign world that he had woken up in.

That last piece was even more frustrating than the rest, for Elrohir would often find himself without any frame of reference for what he was reading. Too often a description of something was laden with words and ideas that he just didn’t understand. It was impossible to understand an explanation of something, if you couldn’t relate the context to anything else. He found that to be true time and again, and was starting to feel discouraged as he came to believe that he would never fit in to what should be his home.

Still, despite his own misgivings, Elrohir was a quick learner. Constant study combined with carefully mimicking his family’s actions soon gave him a full range of proper behaviors and after a short time, his father deemed that he was ready to perform his first official function as a lord of Rivendell. A patrol from the elven realm of Mirkwood was transiting their lands and it was customary for Elrond and his family to welcome visitors to their home.

The young elf’s hands were still bandaged, but since he’d otherwise recovered physically from his ordeal, Elrond had decided that he should participate in the formal greeting of the party of warriors as a first step toward relearning some of his old duties.

Elladan, as usual, helped his brother dress as they prepared for their guests. The occasion was not intended to be terribly formal, so the garments he selected for both of them were simple, yet elegant. Elrohir gratefully allowed his brother to pick them, acknowledging to himself that he still found the simple act of picking the right clothes to wear bewildering. When they were done, they were nearly a matched pair, with the garments’ trim and Elrohir’s bandages the only difference between the two of them.

Together they made their way to the great hall where they were to meet up with their father and Estel. As they came to the side door leading in to the hall, Elrohir hesitated, wary eyes seeking reassurance from his twin before they opened the door and entered.

“There is no need for concern,” said Elladan kindly. “Our role is merely to welcome our visitors, exchange pleasantries over wine, and then it will be over. Nothing will go wrong in such a simple meeting.”

As Elladan made some last minute adjustments to his brother’s tunic, he added, “You know, it is too bad Legolas will not be with them. He is always such fun to be around.”

“King Thranduil’s son,” answered Elladan. “We are nearly the same age and have been quite close friends since we were very small. He also spent many months with us when we began our search for you. I know he will be overjoyed to hear of your return when these warriors bring word back to their home. We should send him an invitation to come visit soon.”

Elrohir nodded briefly, his mind not really on King Thranduil’s son as he considered the upcoming meeting with the Mirkwood patrol. He had rehearsed in his mind what he would say, but he was afraid something unexpected would happen and he wouldn’t know how to react. Or what if he responded without thinking as he had with Glorfindel. Although he had managed to interact just fine with many others since that time, he still cringed when he thought of how he’d overreacted when he’d met the elven lord. Oh, how he didn’t want to do anything to embarrass his family this evening!

Elladan saw that his brother was still nervous, but knew that there was no remedy for it other than to get the ordeal over with. So, he opened the door and gestured for Elrohir to proceed him and then moved to follow.

Elrohir stopped dead in the doorway, though, almost causing his brother to walk into him. There were so many people in the room! He couldn’t go in there! Just short of panic, he started to turn to flee when he heard a soft murmur in his ear, “Deep breaths, Ro. You can do this.”

Forcing himself to follow his brother’s advice, Elrohir took a couple of deep breaths and then quickly walked into the crowded hall, determined not to let his family down. Ignoring the whispered comments he heard around him, he crossed over to where he saw Estel and his father waiting.

“You’ve caused quite a stir, Elrohir,” said his human brother with a grin. “I don’t believe many knew you would be here today.”

Elrond nodded his agreement and gave his son an encouraging smile. Those who didn’t know Elrohir well might not be able to see his tension in the way he carried himself, but his family could tell that he was quite uncomfortable with all the stares being directed his way. Although he felt bad for his son’s discomfort, he couldn’t really blame his people--for many of Rivendell’s inhabitants who did not live or work in the palace, this was their first glimpse of their missing prince and his appearance was bound to cause a stir.

Despite his tension at being in a large crowd, however, Elrohir had been a good pupil and managed to appear welcoming to the Mirkwood elves who were introduced to him during the course of the evening. If the elves hadn’t known him already, they wouldn’t have even been able to tell that there was anything wrong with the young lord. Those that did know him, though, could only feel sad that the cheerful young son of Elrond had been replaced with this proper, but far too serious elf. Still, although he never quite allowed the warmth he was expressing to reach his eyes, he managed to perform all his duties perfectly and his family was quite proud of him by the end of the event.

It was slightly over a month before Elrohir would face his next major challenge. It was a month that had seen several important changes. During that time, the last of the bandages had finally been removed from his hands, allowing Elrohir a new level of independence that he cherished. No longer was he obliged to wait for his brothers to help him dress in the morning, or prepare his food, or assist with all the small daily tasks that one takes for granted unless they have lost the use of their hands. Yes, that was one important change that allowed Elrohir to become less dependent on his family. A second change, not as visible yet just as important, was Elrohir’s mastery of how an elven lord should behave. After careful study of his family’s interactions with others as well as hours upon hours of reading in the library, Elrohir now felt confident that he would be able to respond properly in almost any situation or at the very least, not do anything that would embarrass his family.

These two changes should have been greeted by his family as happy milestones in his recovery. A third, equally important change, however, dampened their enthusiasm for the first two. With Elrohir’s new sense of independence, he inexplicably began to withdraw from the others. At first, his family didn’t really notice, as they were busy teaching him about their home and way of life, but after awhile, they came to realize that while he was learning everything they were teaching him, he was also slowly closing off a part of himself. It seemed the more he learned, the more solomn he became and the sparkle of life that had always been a part of Elrohir was just fading away.

Elrond, Elladan, and Aragorn had met several times together to discuss Elrohir’s disturbing behavior, but they finally came to the conclusion that it was simply his way of dealing with a strange new world and they would let him pull back a bit if it allowed him to feel more in control. This bothered his twin more than anyone else, but Elladan finally agreed that he’d give his brother some space if that’s what it took for Elrohir to feel comfortable in his new life.

It had worked somewhat and Elrohir seemed to relax a bit when he wasn’t pressured so much to learn and participate in all the realm’s events. He had, however, never voiced his own opinion on which events he wanted to attend, always accepting his family’s guidance. Thus, this new, serious Elrohir took his family quite by surprise when he announced at dinner one evening that he did not wish to meet with the trade delegation that was scheduled to arrive the next day. Quiet and somber, Elrohir had willingly, if not enthusiastically, done everything asked of him up until then.

Pausing as he ate his meal, Elrond addressed his son with a serious air, “Elrohir, we meet with the Oakwood traders every year for talks followed by an evening of enjoyment. Not only are these men excellent trading partners, but they are also very good friends of our people. And they have, in fact, been especially good friends of you and your brothers over the years. You have stayed with them many times during your travels. It would thus be rude of you not to attend our social gathering after the trade talks. You needn’t attend the negotiations, but at the very least, I request your presence there,” declared Elrond firmly.

“I do not remember these people,” stated Elrohir, his feelings hidden by the emotionless mask he now always wore. “And I tire of meeting new people—I am only asking to be excused this once.”

The elven lord scowled slightly as he glanced over at Aragorn and then at Elrohir, “Are you saying this because they are humans?” hoping that Estel wouldn’t take it wrong if that was the case.

Never once letting his mask slip, Elrohir answered his father, “I am saying this because I grow weary of meeting people who know me, but I do not remember. I wish for a break.”

Elrond considered a moment before answering, “I understand, Elrohir, and after tomorrow’s events, I promise that you can have some more time alone if that is what you need. However, I do insist that you make your appearance at the social gathering tomorrow.”

Elrohir nodded curtly, accepting his father’s decision, but obviously not happily and then the subject was dropped from further conversation.

Later, his brothers wished that either their father had given in to begin with or Elrohir had been more persistent, for the event was, in a word, a disaster!

The men from Oakwood were a rowdy, fun-loving bunch whose presence every year was anticipated with great excitement. The evening of fun was enjoyed by all and had solidified the great friendship between the elves of Rivendell and the men from nearby Oakwood. But this year, Elrohir managed to ruin the social gathering completely for his brothers.

He had attended, just as his father directed. He had dressed properly. He had arrived on time. What he had not done, however, was display the proper manners that he’d been perfecting since his return home. In fact, his behavior bordered on outright rudeness, for he refused to say one single word the entire evening.

Elrohir said nothing, nothing at all the entire night. His old friends were cheerful enough with him and greeted him with great enthusiasm, but a stony nod was the most acknowledgement he would give, leaving his brothers to cover for his silence during the awkward pauses that they caused.

Several times throughout the evening, whenever they found themselves alone, Elladan and Aragorn took turns trying to find out just what was going on in that thick skull of their brother’s--but even with them, he would say nothing. Silence was his shield as he dutifully followed his brothers around, but refused to interact at all with their guests.

Many hours later--eternal hours in the opinion of Elrohir’s brothers--the gathering was over and the last of the guests had left for their quarters. Elladan and Aragorn were worn to a frazzle and Elrohir--well, who knew what Elrohir was thinking, for his emotionless mask hadn’t slipped even a fraction the entire evening.

By unspoken agreement, Aragorn took his leave from his brothers, knowing that Elladan was burning to find out just what was going on with his twin.

Elladan grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him through a side door out onto the patio. “Now can you tell me what is wrong with you?” he asked angrily. There were times when he just wanted to shake Elrohir! Why had he found it necessary to ruin what should have been a lovely evening with good friends?

Elrohir in pure, maddening form, still said nothing, merely glaring back at Elladan.

The older twin wished for a moment that he could shake Elrohir, he was so frustrated. “Answer me!” he ordered.

The younger twin stared back at his brother for the longest time and then finally spoke, his voice cold and hard, “I cannot believe you have to ask.” And with that unsatisfying response, before Elladan could even think of what to say next, Elrohir yanked his arm out of Elladan’s grasp, turned, and disappeared into the night, leaving his thunderstruck twin alone with his worries.

It was only moments after Elrohir disappeared into the night that his twin raced after him. As he reached the first grove of trees, however, Elladan stopped. He was worried about whatever had caused Elrohir to act so strangely, but in truth he was rather upset himself at the moment. Elrohir had absolutely ruined a fun evening that he’d been looking forward to and right now he didn’t really feel like facing his twin.

Elladan leaned against a tree and buried his face in his hands. He was so tired. Tired of being worried. Tired of dealing with uncertainty. Tired of pretending everything was all right. Tired...of things simply not being normal. By now, it had been over three years since that dreadful day when he’d known that something had happened to his brother...and nothing had been normal since.

As he stood there in the dark, Elladan tried to get his feelings under control before he continued after Elrohir. He knew that he wasn’t only upset, but also angry with his twin and nothing good could come from finding Elrohir while he was in this mood. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself but accepting for the moment that it was a lost cause. It just wasn’t fair! He’d been trying so hard for so long to be patient with Elrohir. Why did he have to continue to make life so difficult?

Several more long minutes passed before Elladan finally pushed away from the tree he was leaning against. The peace of the lovely glade had at last worked a bit of its magic and he was able to get most of his anger under control. He still felt a twinge of irritation with his brother, but he decided that he didn’t want to leave Elrohir alone too long to deal with...well, whatever he was dealing with.

Once he started looking for him, it didn’t take long for Elladan to find his missing twin. Unlike past times when Elrohir knew every nook and cranny in Rivendell and thus could disappear at will into innumerable hiding places, Elrohir now was familiar with only a few spots and Elladan was able to easily find him sitting quietly in a small grotto he had been shown only the week before.

Elladan watched his brother for a moment before approaching him. Elrohir was seated on a large stone, staring straight ahead, tension clear in every line of his body. Bracing himself for what was to come, Elladan dropped down onto the stone next to Elrohir.

When his brother didn’t acknowledge his presence with even a look, Elladan sighed. So Elrohir was going to be obstinate. He finally broke the uncomfortable silence by saying as calmly as he could manage, “I would like to know what happened tonight.”

Elrohir’s jaw tightened at his brother’s words, but still did not look at Elladan or speak. He could hear the irritation that Elladan couldn’t completely hide, and didn’t want to get into some kind of argument with his twin. He was facing enough demons this night and was certainly not in the mood to add to his troubles.

Elladan only saw his brother’s continued stubbornness, however, and hissed, “You try my patience, brother! For weeks I see you becoming more and more withdrawn and then tonight you are insufferably rude to our good friends. Now tell me what happened! What is wrong?”

The elder twin was not at all expecting his brother’s answer. Elrohir whipped around and spat, “What is wrong?! How could you even ask? I am forced to spend hours in the company of men and you ask ‘what is wrong’? A room full of those misbegotten creatures and you do not know ‘what is wrong?! I detest them all! That is my answer!”

Elladan regarded his brother in shocked disbelief. At no time since they’d found Elrohir had his twin expressed even the slightest bit of anger over what had happened to him. To see him now and hear the bitter hatred in his voice, however, it was crystal clear that Elrohir had been hiding a mountain of resentment for those that had enslaved him. But Elrohir had been right. Elladan knew that he should have understood or at least anticipated this reaction from his twin, but he hadn’t and now struggled with what to say next. No longer feeling any anger himself, he had been thrown completely out of his depth at this unexpected development. Grasping for something to say, after a few moments he could only come up with, “But Ro, Estel is human!”

With an angry gesture, Elrohir dismissed his observation. “I do not mean him, of course. He is special, as you well know. It was the others…” He shivered as if trying to shake off the feel of being surrounded by men. “…there were so many of them today. Their presence made my skin crawl!”

Elladan wished for his father’s wisdom. What could he do to help his twin? Should he respond with concern and sympathy? Or would matter-of-fact logic work better? He didn’t know, but had to try something.

“Ro, I realize that your memory of men is full of unhappiness and I am so sorry for that, but we have had innumerable good dealings with them in the past…and we count many of them as close friends. You cannot condemn the entire race based on the actions of just a few,” he said, trying for both sympathy and logic.

Elrohir shouted back, “Easy for you to say, but you were not there!” He stared unseeing at the stones in front of him before he continued in a whisper, “You don’t know what it was like.”

Elladan sat very still and held his breath, not saying a word as he hoped his brother would continue. The family had agreed early on that they would not push Elrohir to tell them about his experiences, but he so wanted to know what his brother had endured. Not out of morbid curiosity, but so he could better understand how to help him overcome the many obstacles that kept popping up unexpectedly as he tried to regain his old life.

Long minutes of silence passed before Elrohir, seemingly lost in time, continued, “They were brutal beings. Vicious creatures who enjoyed torment for its own sake. Many times they would take pleasure in causing pain for no reason.”

In an almost bewildered voice, he went on, “I would do nothing wrong, but they would still find a reason to beat me or show their cruelty in some other way...why?” he asked plaintively. “Why would they do that?”

It took all Elladan’s willpower not to say anything. He was torn between feelings of intense sadness for his brother’s anguish as well as an overwhelming rage towards those who had hurt him. He found himself unable to even look at Elrohir as the remembered pain flashed over the younger twin’s face, for he knew he’d be unable to maintain his composure if he allowed himself to acknowledge how much Elrohir had been hurt while he had been able to do nothing. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes as he waited for his twin to continue.

“You know, they hated me just because I was an elf--different,” Elrohir said, almost too softly to hear. “The unceasing hatred had no reason other than that.”

The sound of a rock being thrown angrily against the stone wall brought Elladan’s head up in surprise. Elrohir’s mood had turned violent in the space of a heartbeat and Elladan actually drew back in shock as he opened his eyes and found that he was looking directly into an identical pair of hate-filled ones.

In a voice suddenly turned harsh, Elrohir ground out, “They were cruel, Elladan! Cruel and uncaring...and it wasn’t only the overseers but the other slaves as well. They took great pleasure in devising ways to make my life miserable.” After a mirthless laugh he said, “And you wonder what is wrong when I cannot stand to be with a group of men! My experience has shown me their true nature. They are a despicable lot in whom I find no redeeming feature. No sign of their worth.” Elrohir shook his head and gazed at the ground in front of him as he finished, his teeth clenched in anger, “Oh, how I hate them all!”

“I already said he is different! Were you not listening?” snapped Elrohir. “I agree that he is not like the others, but one anomaly does not change the worth of the remainder.”

Elladan was shocked by the intense emotion radiating from his twin. There was clearly a festering wound here that would need healing, but he felt so inadequate. He wished for his father to magically appear with the right words to say but knew that that was unlikely to happen. It was up to him to do something to help Elrohir right now and he groped helplessly for the right thing to say.

Speaking as calmly as he could, he said carefully, “Elrohir, I promise you, all men are not like those you remember. You must find a way to put aside those memories and learn of the good in many of the others you will meet.”

“I cannot!” shouted Elrohir in reply, surging to his feet and pacing around the grotto in agitation. “I cannot,” he repeated.

“Elrohir, what you cannot do is continue on the way you are going,” answered Elladan as forcefully as he dared. “I see you slipping farther away with every passing day—not to mention this evening’s conduct. Ro…you must try harder to move beyond the bad times and start living again.”

Elrohir had stopped his pacing and now faced his twin, his voice breaking in anguish as he cried out, “What do you want from me?!”

When Elladan didn’t immediately answer, he continued with such sadness in his voice that it nearly broke his brother’s heart, “I have tried, Elladan. I have tried to fit in but have come to the realization that I will never belong here. Being forced to spend hours in the company of men tonight was simply the final straw. I have come to the unhappy understanding that I am no more than an actor, reciting lines that I have memorized but are not really my own. I didn’t belong with those people tonight, and I don’t belong here!”

“I don’t understand, Ro,” Elladan cried, wanting so desperately to help his brother. “You were doing so well and have learned so much since your return. Why do you not feel a part of our lives? What made you close yourself off?”

Elrohir sank back down onto a large boulder as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “It…just doesn’t feel real to me,” he finally said. “It is as if I have stepped into someone else’s life and tried to make it my own. The more I learn of ‘your’ Elrohir’s role here, the more I realize that I cannot be that person. He was a warrior, a healer, a diplomat. I am nothing—a slave.”

“You are not!” shouted Elladan vehemently. “You are whatever you wish to be! If not a warrior, or a healer, or a diplomat, fine. Pick something different. But to allow two years to define your whole being is wrong. Only you can determine where you go from here. Furthermore, you may have forgotten your past, but understand this--no matter what, you will always be ‘my’ Elrohir!” he concluded almost angrily.

That last statement gained Elladan at least a moment when Elrohir’s gaze lightened, but then the younger twin shook his head, denying sadly what he wished were true, “Are we not what our memories make us?” he asked. “All those past experiences that shaped the brother you knew are gone. I may have his body, but that is not enough. I cannot be who you and the others think I am.”

“I do not believe that,” answered Elladan with conviction. “You may not realize it, but the ‘old’ Elrohir is still in there somewhere. Many times you have demonstrated past behaviors without even knowing it. But even that doesn’t matter. Even if you choose to do something completely different from what you did before or choose to behave differently—it doesn’t matter. You will always be my brother and I will always love you!”

Elrohir finally had to give his brother a little smile at the way Elladan shouted those last words. Leave it to Elladan to make his point as strongly as needed.

That smile was enough to encourage Elladan to continue more softly, “Give it time, Ro. You will build new experiences and memories that will shape who you become. And know that you are never alone in this. I will be at your side always, just as we have always been there for each other in the past.”

“Of course!” answered Elladan with concern. Just what was Elrohir trying to get at?

“Then why…” Elrohir took a deep breath before continuing. “Why was I alone when I was lost?” he asked almost fearfully. Before now, he had not tried to find out anything about that time in his past. He was afraid the answer would reveal something he simply didn’t want to acknowledge.

Elladan looked back at him and said with a gentle smile, “We have always worked better as a team, but sometimes conflicting duties take us apart. That was the case when you disappeared. You were arranging for the purchase of horses in Rohan while I had to attend to duties here at home. That is all.”

“We work as a team usually?” Elrohir asked, still sounding surprisingly uncertain.

Elladan still didn’t know where his twin was going with his questions, but he answered carefully, “Of course. Whenever we can.”

“Then…we were always close?” continued Elrohir, directing the conversation almost casually. What he really had been wondering over the past few weeks was if his brother was merely spending so much time with him because he needed a keeper, or if it was because they were genuinely close to each other. He had come to cherish the time he spent with his twin and couldn’t imagine life without him, but didn’t believe that Elladan--or anyone else for that matter--could feel the same for him. Unable to voice his inner fears, though, he had been reluctant to even approach the issue before now.

Elladan considered the question so ludicrous that he was tempted to respond with some sort of sarcastic comment, but he felt that there was some deeper issue here, so he instead chose sincerity.

“Yes, we have always been close. We were born just minutes apart, Ro, and ever since we have rarely been separated, and almost never by choice,” he said seriously.

His brother grimaced, wishing he’d been more careful with his wording. “Yes, there have been a few times when we chose to go separate ways. But I want you to know that they weren’t often and we always regretted them,” he finished with a wry smile.

“Why would we choose to not be together?” pressed Elrohir, still not accepting that his twin truly could feel the same way he did.

Elladan smiled and shook his head, “Elrohir, believe me that those stories are better told later, not tonight when there’s already been enough upset. Suffice it to say that we’ve made a rather large mess of things from time to time when we had disagreements. Not our most banner moments, Ro, but considering that we have almost three thousand years of other good times together, I really don’t believe we should focus on those few instances.”

Elrohir regarded his brother in astonishment, his thoughts distracted from their past troubles. He hadn’t even thought to ask how old they were before, but did Elladan just say they were almost 3,000 years old?! It was staggering to know that he had lost so much.

As he looked away, he wondered what other surprises were awaiting him. First he found out that he was an elven lord, then a twin, and now that he was almost 3,000 years old! What next? A wife and children? With that thought, his head flew up and he regarded Elladan intently. He would have mentioned something like that, right? Still, he had somehow forgotten to tell him that they were twins, so…

“Uhm…do I…was there…” Elrohir began, hesitant to get the question out.

Elladan looked perplexed as he regarded his twin--now what? “Out with it, Ro,” he said.

“Is there…a special lady in my life?” Elrohir asked, dreading the answer. What if there was someone waiting for him--someone they had kept him from as he learned to fit in to their society?

Elladan’s chuckle reassured him, though. “Nay. There have been a number of ladies over the years who became special friends, but no single one that stands out.”

His brother’s look of utter relief made him add with a laugh, “You know, I cannot imagine what you think they would ever see in you…unless, of course, it was your incredible good looks!”

He felt a warm sense of triumph when Elrohir was startled into a laugh of his own. It had been far too long since he’d heard his brother’s laugh and he was pleased beyond measure to have drawn one from him tonight.

After a moment, though, Elrohir’s smile faded and he sighed, relieved to find that there wasn’t another surprise awaiting him, but still feeling a bit sad to think that there was no one special for him.

Elladan saw the troubled look and, reading the look correctly, added quietly, “We are warriors, Elrohir, and spend much of our time away from home, defending our realm and attacking our enemies. Our lifestyle hasn’t lent itself well to long-term relationships, but we have never been lonely. After all, we’ve always had each other.”

Elrohir stared at his brother for awhile, accepting what he said, but still feeling the desperate need for some kind of final reassurance. Keeping his eyes locked on his twin’s he asked seriously, “So what did you do while I was away? Did you miss me?”

Part of him wanted to shake Elrohir senseless for continuing to ask such stupid questions! But another part of him just felt sad. Even after everything he’d said and done, his twin still didn’t understand the link between them. If he had to ask such a question, Elladan believed that it must mean Elrohir didn’t feel the special bond between them. A deep sense of loss ran through him as he considered that he and his twin may never again be what they were. Although that thought cut him deeply, it also strengthened his resolve to somehow, some way, find a way to show his brother just what they had been to each other and could be again.

He would start by finding an answer for his twin, who was looking at him, waiting for a response.

“Did I miss you?…Ro, do you still not understand? If someone had cut off my hand, my arm, or even a leg, I would have missed them less than I missed you. I am incomplete when we’re apart.”

“And as for what I did...” Elladan raked his hand through his hair as he thought of the lonely years of searching. “What I did while you were lost was to look for you. I looked everywhere--in the mountains, in the plains, in towns and villages--anywhere that I might have a prayer of finding you. And I would never have stopped. I will always be there for you, just as...as you have always been there for me.”

The older twin faltered at the end, not wanting to admit that he could no longer be certain of his twin’s devotion to him.

But at last he had broken through Elrohir’s doubts and the younger twin was ready to voice his own feelings. He struggled, however, with what to say. Although he was unable to imagine a life without the reassuring presence of his twin, he hesitated as he tried to come up with the right words. As a slave--especially one that never spoke--he had never had to express himself verbally at all. And now, he was trying to explain himself to one he cared more for than anyone else in the world.

For just a brief moment, Elrohir considered leaving his feelings unvoiced, but the sadness and uncertainty in his twin’s face wouldn’t allow him to do that. For once, he was needed to do the comforting, and he wasn’t about to let his brother down.

“Elladan,” he said, softly laying a hand on his brother’s arm. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am for the pain my disappearance caused you. I do not know how it was that I ended up where I did, but I am very sorry that my being there and not with you caused you grief. And…I know I am not the same as I was before and I am sorry for that as well, but...I just don’t know how to be that person. But please believe me that I will never let you down again if it is in my power to prevent it. I, too, will always be there for you.”

In that instant, the brothers shared a look that spoke more than all the words they could have used. It was as if a small wound in both their hearts had finally been healed as they smiled at each other in perfect understanding.

The twins left the grotto shortly after that and made their way back to their rooms. Elladan knew that there still were some serious issues to be faced, especially regarding Elrohir’s intense hatred of humans, but he was more content than he’d been in such a long time. And Elrohir--he too knew that he had some major concerns that still needed addressing, but knowing that his twin would always be at his side gave him a sense of peace that he couldn’t ever remember having.

After the twin’s talk, things seemed to go more smoothly than they had during the previous weeks. Elrohir was still nowhere close to the friendly, lively elf that he’d been in times past, but at least he was making more of an effort to try to fit in to life in Rivendell. Especially any time Elladan was present, Elrohir would make a visible attempt to be engaging and accept that he would have to find a way to make this life his own.

It was because of those efforts and change in attitude that Elrond made the decision several weeks later that he was going to have all three of his sons present when a dwarven peace delegation led by Lord Bremon came to Imladris. Elrond had been working with his dwarven counterpart for decades trying to hammer out an agreement that would allow both their peoples to live in harmony rather than the overt hostility that usually marked any kind of interaction between dwarf and elf.

After the decision was made to have his sons attend the gathering, however, his old friend and advisor, Glorfindel, sought him out to express his reservations about allowing Elrohir to attend. He certainly felt no resentment regarding Elrohir’s initial treatment of him and in fact, he and Elrohir had managed to have several pleasant encounters since. But, that aside, Glorfindel simply felt that the young elven lord’s behavior was too unpredictable and could put the peace process at risk if anything unexpected happened.

So, while Glorfindel and Elrond were discussing preparations for hosting the peace delegation, Glorfindel felt it his duty to bring up the subject of Elrohir’s participation.

“My lord,” he said tentatively. “Do you really believe Elrohir is ready for a meeting with the dwarves? You recall how he reacted to the humans. If they had not been good friends, it is likely that they would have left here offended.”

Elrond regarded his good friend soberly. He had to admit to himself that he wasn’t sure that Elrohir should attend, but it still made him sad to hear Glorfindel voice the same reservations.

“What would you have me do?” the elven lord asked unhappily. “Keep him hidden away as if we were ashamed of him? He is having a hard enough time fitting in as it is. If I show that I do not trust him, it will only make things worse.”

“Aye,” agreed Glorfindel, “but there is much at risk here. Peace between our peoples is no small matter. And you know how touchy the dwarves can be. With negotiations this delicate, perhaps it would be better to find some other role for Elrohir to play...something to keep him away from the delegates. We cannot risk him offending them.”

Elrond walked to the window and gazed down upon his beautiful realm as if searching for the answer out there. Finding none, he turned back to his friend and said quietly, “He has made great strides, Glorfindel. Especially in the past few weeks. If he can get through this, I believe it would help immeasurably in his recovery. He needs to know that he can still be a functioning part of this family.”

“Aye,” answered Glorfindel reluctantly. “But the most surprising things seem to still bother him.”

“I know,” said Elrond with a grimace. “I wish I could understand all that he went through so I could predict his behavior better, but he is very reluctant to speak of his experiences. Other than a few things he has told Elladan, he has said almost nothing of his past.”

“Which is precisely why you should find a way to keep him from Lord Bremon and his people. He is unpredictable,” argued Glorfindel, determined to make his friend see reason. He wanted only what was best for Elrohir as well, but felt that this occasion was too important to risk.

Elrond was silent, considering, but then abruptly answered, “No. I have made the decision and he will attend with his brothers.”

Glorfindel nodded once, understanding by Elrond’s tone that the subject was closed. Well, he’d done his best and now it was up to Elrohir.

Elrohir himself wasn’t having any concerns about meeting the dwarves. He knew why he’d reacted so strongly to the humans and didn’t have similar problems with the dwarves. As far as he remembered, he had never even seen one, so he was not afraid he’d do anything to embarrass his family or jeopardize the peace talks. After careful coaching from Elladan and Estel, he felt prepared to greet Lord Bremon and when the day arrived, calmly went with his brothers to do his duty.

It was to be an uncomplicated affair. Elrond had already met and welcomed Lord Bremon and his contingent earlier. The three brothers were part of the larger greeting ceremony where the dwarves and elves who were to work on the peace agreement would meet. Elrond’s sons were to lead the elven group for the formal presentation to Lord Bremon, which would be followed by dinner in the large dining hall. Yes, it was to be an uncomplicated affair, but once again the fates chose to intervene and cause problems for Lord Elrond’s unlucky middle son.

Elrohir followed Elladan into the room and immediately picked out the dwarven lord. He was obviously the one standing by their father, decked out in gold mail. The young elf walked forward confidently, but as he passed by the large group of Lord Bremon’s guard, his keen hearing picked up a stray comment by one of the dwarves standing in the back. The dwarf apparently hadn’t been warned about elven hearing, for he said in a sneering whisper to one of his fellows, “Would you take a look at those haughty elves. Just once I’d like to take one down to size!”

Elrohir faltered as he heard those words, but then moved forward as he felt Estel’s hand on his back, pressing him onward. “Keep going,” Elladan hissed at his side, also having heard the comment. “Ignore them and concentrate only on what Lord Bremon says.”

But what Elladan could not know was that Elrohir didn’t even hear him. His thoughts had been thrown back in time when he’d heard the dwarf’s comments. A scene from his past flashed into his mind—one where another dwarf was kicking him and gloating about ‘a stupid elf who had been taken down to size.’ The nearly identical words had triggered some spark of memory in the young elf’s mind and he couldn’t even process his brother’s admonition.

The next thing he knew, he and his brothers were being introduced by his father to the dwarven lord and he watched blankly as Elladan graciously greeted their honored guest. When it was his turn, however, he couldn’t bring himself to clasp arms in greeting with the dwarf. More memories of pain, jeers, and words of hatred being flung at him by dwarves swirled through his mind as he stood before Lord Bremon.

He was shocked back to the present when he heard his father say rather pointedly, “Elrohir, it is your turn to greet our guest.”

“I cannot,” the young elf choked as he pulled away from the dwarf’s outstretched arm. “I cannot welcome one such as he into our home.”

To say that his behavior stunned the gathered company was a vast understatement. For a moment, no one spoke as they looked at him in utter shock. But then all hell broke loose as members of the dwarven honor guard pulled their swords, ready to defend their lord from the upstart young elf who dared to dishonor him.

An ugly battle may have commenced, had Elrond not intervened at that moment, finally overcoming his own sense of astonishment to take charge of the scene.

“Lord Bremon,” he said in a powerful voice loud enough to be heard over the din. “I cannot apologize enough for the misguided words of my son. In no way do they reflect my own views, nor those of our people. I cannot fathom why he felt compelled to say them, but can only offer in his defense that he has suffered greatly at the hands of others for several years and has not yet fully recovered. I am sure he spoke without thought and now wishes to offer his own apology.”

With that, the elven lord looked over at his son, willing him to say something to smooth things over.

Elrohir, however, wasn’t ready to apologize. Not while his mind was full of confused, pain-filled images. More and more memories of his days with the dwarves flooded his mind as he stood there, angry and upset by the whole situation. He needed to explain, but couldn’t in front of his father’s gathered guests. And yet, his father clearly expected him to say something. In near panic, the distressed elf’s eyes flew to his twin, hoping for some kind of guidance or at least some sign of support. Hurt to see only disappointment and frustration in Elladan’s expression, he turned back to his father, who was looking angrier by the moment.

“I…” Elrohir started, but then swallowed and shook his head, unable to say anything useful.

Elrond approached his son, furious that his decades-long attempt to make peace with the dwarves could unravel in front of his eyes due to this unforeseen response from Elrohir. Ignoring for the moment that Glorfindel had warned him about just such a disaster, he took his son’s arm and shook him slightly.

“Elrohir, I insist you apologize to our guest for your misspoken words,” he demanded, anger clear in his tone.

The young elf stepped back, even more uncertain now as he faced the angry elven lord. Never before had he seen this side of his father and he felt ill as he realized that he probably had just destroyed his fledgling relationship with him.

Seeing that Elrohir was not about to comply, Elrond said in a low voice, pitched so their guests wouldn’t overhear, “You have shamed me and our people with your disgraceful behavior. I know not why you have chosen such behavior, but your rudeness is inexcusable. You are no longer welcome at this evening’s table. You will return to your room and await me there.”

Elrohir swallowed hard as he drowned in humiliation. How could his father do this? He was being banished in front of these vile beings! He didn’t move, unbelieving at what had just happened until he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him to the door. “I will take him to our chambers and then return, Adar, “ he heard Elladan say quietly.

Angrily, Elrohir wrenched his shoulder out of his hands and ground out bitterly, “No need! I know the way!” Not even Elladan was on his side!

With the acknowledgement of that ultimate betrayal, he pivoted and then walked gracefully out of the room, head held high, but cheeks flaming in embarrassment as he accepted his disgrace. It didn’t help that with his excellent hearing he could hear several of the dwarves snickering at his dismissal.

Once he was free from the suffocating presence of the dwarves and the bitter disappointment of his father and brother’s treatment of him, however, Elrohir allowed himself to break into a run. He blindly raced through the corridors, ignoring all the astonished looks he received from the elves he passed. Eventually, he reached a dead end and had to make a decision. Wrenching open the door to his right, he found what looked to be an unused stairway and slamming the door behind him, started running up the winding stairs, not caring where he ended up as long as it was somewhere that he could be alone.

After sprinting up five stories, he came to another door which opened up to the outside. Pushing through, Elrohir found himself on a high-up parapet which overlooked his father’s valley. Unable to go any further, he leaned against the waist-high wall and then crumbled bonelessly to the floor as he tried to get his scrambled emotions, not to mention his breathing, under control.

It was many hours before he felt calm enough to accept that he would have to leave his little sanctuary. He realized with some surprise as he walked quietly through the halls that more time had passed than he had thought, for he saw no other elves as he made his way to his rooms. He hoped that he’d be able to make it to his room without meeting anyone, but when at last he opened the door to the sitting room, he unhappily noted that his twin was seated in one of the large chairs, apparently waiting for him. Not wanting to speak to anyone, and at this point especially not his twin, he ignored Elladan’s presence and started directly for his own room.

Elladan, however, wasn’t about to watch his brother disappear into his room without some kind of explanation for today’s behavior. In fact, he wanted some answers as to where his twin had been for half the day. He had returned to their rooms hours ago from the dinner, worried about him, and then had ended up scouring their home for some sign of the missing elf. He had finally given up the hunt only a short while ago, so he was more than irritated with Elrohir at the moment for causing him such worry.

“And just where have you been?” Elladan asked, stepping in front of Elrohir to prevent him from entering his room.

Glaring back at his brother, Elrohir answered with a tight jaw, “I understood that where I go is none of your affair. Unless, after all, I am a prisoner here.”

“Do not speak foolishly,” Elladan snapped back. “It is only ‘my affair’ because I was concerned for you. I did not expect to find you adding to your disgrace by disobeying Ada twice today and not coming to our rooms as he directed.”

“And you could not be alone here since so many others inhabit our chambers?” Elladan questioned sarcastically.

Trying to push past his brother, Elrohir shot back, “Perhaps I did not wish to have to explain myself to anyone--and that includes ‘anyone’ who might inhabit our chambers!”

“Take it how you will,” ground Elrohir, finally shouldering his way past Elladan and stalking toward his room.

“I am not finished!” shouted Elladan. “Do not you turn your back on me!” he continued as he grabbed his brother’s arm and yanked him around.

He had intended to continue his questioning concerning his brother’s whereabouts, but what happened next shocked the elder twin to the very core of his being. As he reached out to grab his brother’s other arm to force him to look him in the eyes, Elrohir turned his head away, as if trying to deflect a blow.

Elrohir’s reaction had been instinctive. Tension, yelling, hands grabbing him…when he saw Elladan’s hand come toward him, his unconscious assessment was that his brother was about to strike him.

Horrified, Elladan jerked his hand away from his brother as if burned. He couldn’t believe that his twin would ever think that he would hit him!

Elrohir simply froze where he was. The implications of what he believed had nearly happened staggered him as well. After his talk with Elladan, he had been trying harder to fit in, deciding that he did indeed belong here and it would simply be a matter of time before he actually felt like this was his home. But now he didn’t know what to think. If Elladan could even consider striking him, it would change all understanding of what the two meant to each other.

The twins both regarded each other in shock, neither immediately making a move in their mutual dismay and horror over what had just happened. The two would have undoubtedly talked things over momentarily, but in a case of phenomenally bad timing, their father chose that precise instant to enter the room.

“Elrohir, where have you been?” demanded the elven lord, still obviously upset with his son.

When Elrohir didn’t answer immediately, Elrond continued in a cold voice, “I came by these rooms several times in the past hours to speak to you, but you obviously disobeyed me and were not here. I demand an explanation.”

*This couldn’t be happening!* was Elrohir’s only thought. But sure enough, there was his father standing in front of him, looking angry enough that perhaps he’d want to strike him as well!

“I....I apologize, my lord,” he finally said quietly, trying desperately to keep his emotions under control when in fact he felt like his world was crumbling before his very eyes.

“That is not enough!” barked Elrond, his anger at the near disaster created by Elrohir clouding his usual good judgment. “You nearly ruin decades of careful negotiations because of some unfounded prejudice against dwarves and then further add to your disgrace by disobeying me. There can be no good excuse for that kind of behavior. I am ashamed of you!”

“Adar…” choked Elrohir, truly not knowing what to say in his horror at this situation. If he’d looked over at his twin, he would have been gratified to see Elladan looking equally shocked and dismayed at their father’s words, but he felt trapped in his father’s fiery gaze and couldn’t have pulled his eyes away even if he’d wanted.

Still not calm enough to realize the effect his words were having on his son, Elrond continued his barrage coldly, “I understand that you are unfamiliar with our ways and have made allowances for that, but your behavior tonight was beyond what I can condone and it cannot go unanswered. Your rudeness to my guest nearly ruined years of diplomacy--years that I have spent working toward harmony between the elves and dwarves. Lord Bremon was gracious enough to accept my apology so all was not lost, but I insist that you give one of your own as well. It is time you accept your responsibility as my son, and so I have arranged a private meeting between you and Lord Bremon tomorrow morning at breakfast. I expect you there promptly and also expect you to behave in the manner befitting an elven lord.”

Elrohir remained motionless as he stared at his father’s angry countenance. He had thought he had hit a low point when he’d been dismissed from his family’s presence earlier, but that didn’t even begin to compare with how he was feeling now. Worse than worthless, his self-loathing threatened to choke him. If he could anger his father so greatly and cause Elladan to be so upset that he would consider striking him, he must be a truly contemptuous creature!

None of that showed on his face, however. He had learned his lessons all too well as a slave and knew that in the presence of one who was angry with you, you should never show your feelings. Therefore, he was completely expressionless as he nodded and answered formally, “I shall do your bidding, my lord.”

‘My lord.’ Elladan noted his brother’s second use of the title with dismay. How had it come to this where Elrohir felt it necessary to call their father by a title as opposed to a more familiar name? He was horrified at the whole scene before him, but did not know how to fix anything given his father’s unrelenting anger and his brother’s unexplained behavior.

Fortunately, Elrond was satisfied with Elrohir’s response and with a firm nod of his head, he left his sons once more alone.

Long moments passed when neither brother said anything. Elrohir had still not moved from the spot where he’d received his father’s lecture and Elladan also seemed frozen in place, unsure what to say.

Finally, the elder twin approached his brother, needing answers for this mixed up situation.

Elrohir turned his head to his brother, but didn’t speak. Why should he? Right now he felt raw, hurt, even angry. Angry at the dwarves, of course, but also angry at Elladan for not being there for him. Angry at their father for not even wanting to know the reasons for his behavior. And most of all, angry at himself for being such a stupid idiot that he couldn’t even manage to control himself for one evening. No...he didn’t feel like talking to Elladan right now. He just wasn’t up to hearing one more person confirm his worthlessness. More than anything else, he wanted to go to bed and hope he’d wake up and find this day had all been a bad dream.

Elladan didn’t move from his path, saying earnestly, “Elrohir, please talk to me.”

“I do not wish to discuss anything. Let me pass,” responded his twin, still without expression.

Elladan opened his mouth to ask once more, but seeing the angry expression on Elrohir’s face, he finally accepted defeat, moved aside, and silently let his brother go.

Elrohir went into his room without even a glance for his twin, leaving Elladan standing, staring at the closed door. These emotional upheavals were getting old, the elder twin thought bitterly, hurt by his brother’s refusal to even talk to him.

Hours later, unable to sleep, Elladan couldn’t stay away any longer and quietly entered Elrohir’s room, determined to wake him up and make him talk! He stopped abruptly when he saw the bed was empty. Had Elrohir run off? With a brief sense of panic, his eyes flew around the room until to his relief he found his twin sitting in the window, staring out into the darkness.

The younger twin said nothing, but did turn his head, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

Elladan joined his brother in the window, leaning against the other side just as he had countless times before.

“I couldn’t sleep...and hoped we could talk,” he explained. “Elrohir, I want to help. Please…tell me what happened today.”

For a moment, Elladan thought his brother would continue to keep him at a distance, but Elrohir was not longer feeling angry, only infinitely sad. He finally gave a deep sigh and looked out into the night, whispering quietly, “It was dwarves after all. I didn’t know.”

Not understanding at all what he meant, Elladan asked, “It was dwarves that what?”

“Actually, it was what that one dwarf said. You remember, when he talked about taking us down to size?” was the unsatisfactory answer.

Still not following his brother, but concerned that such a foolish little statement could cause Elrohir to react so badly, Elladan said earnestly, “You know that the dwarf was just spouting nonsense. Why ever did you allow that to affect you enough that you would risk ruining Ada’s meeting with Lord Bremon?”

Elrohir gave his brother a troubled look as he answered, “It wasn’t him exactly. I mean, not that particular dwarf. Or even what he said, really. Rather, it was what the words reminded me of. I would have overlooked them, but they triggered a memory. It was of something that happened after I had lost my memory, but nonetheless was something that I had forgotten until today.”

When Elrohir’s pause lasted too long, Elladan was finally forced to prompt him impatiently, “And….?”

Elladan had to strain to hear what his brother said next, “It was dwarves. Dwarves that sold me to the slavers. Dwarves who kicked me, beat me, and laughed the whole while they were doing it.”

His hands slowly clenched into fists as he continued hoarsely, “I don’t know how they captured me—I don’t remember anything before waking up in their camp, trussed tightly despite many injuries. Their treatment of me was…not kind,” he finished with obvious understatement.

“Dwarves?” Elladan choked in horror. “Dwarves hurt you and then sold you?”

He was barely able to contain his rage as he considered all the heartache they had caused. The agonizing grief and sorrow, the unbearable loneliness, the years of suffering that not only Elrohir, but his whole family had experienced. All this had been caused by those...those rock-spawned, low-life vermin!?

He grabbed his brother’s shoulders as he snarled in question, “They caused all this?”

Elrohir said nothing, his quiet gaze finally penetrating Elladan’s anger and he pulled back abruptly.

“No!” commanded Elrohir. “I caused enough damage today. I will not allow peace between our peoples to be put in jeopardy once more because of me. You are not to tell anyone what I have just told you.”

“No one!” reaffirmed his brother. “I will make my apologies tomorrow as directed and that will be the end of it.”

His brother swiftly cut him off, however, “They already have! What is done is done! Do not make me regret sharing my confidences with you.”

“Very well,” hissed Elladan after a long moment, not liking this at all, but realizing that he risked losing Elrohir’s trust if he defied him in this.

After that, neither twin knew exactly what to say, both lost in their own battle of raging emotions.

Elrohir found himself unable to decide who he hated more—the dwarves or himself. Despite his decision to take no action regarding the dwarves’ sale of him to the slavers, he found that it wasn’t so easy to mentally leave the dwarves’ actions in the past. And then his anger at them was compounded by his own self-loathing, furious at himself for causing his father to gaze at him with such anger and disappointment and driving his beloved twin to nearly strike him.

Elladan’s emotions were much more clear and focused. It was white, hot rage that burned inside him. Rage at a group of beings who had taken his twin from him and hurt him. Rage like he hadn’t felt since he and Elrohir had found their mother, broken at the hands of orcs. It fueled a thirst for vengeance that he had to swallow due to his promise to Elrohir, but that only left him frustrated beyond measure.

Eventually, both of the twins went to bed, although neither was able to sleep much that night as they reflected on the day’s discoveries.

The next morning dawned bright and clear--a beautiful day that normally would have lightened the hearts of Elrond’s sons. On this particular morning, however, none of them were really in the mood to enjoy the stunning sunrise. Elrohir, of course, was preoccupied with the upcoming meeting with Lord Bremon. Elladan was still hovering somewhere between rage and deep sorrow. And Aragorn, who had been on the periphery of much of the drama, was simply feeling upset as he saw his family dealing with this latest set of troubles.

All three had met in the twin’s sitting room, not by design, but because they had all arisen early and had to go somewhere before breakfast. It wasn’t a very cheery group that sat there, though, each silent and grim as they faced their individual worries. When the knock finally came alerting Elrohir that Lord Bremon was ready to meet him, it startled all three into jumping slightly in surprise.

“Elrohir...” began Elladan, only to be cut off abruptly with a swift gesture from his twin.

“Please say nothing,” requested Elrohir. “Just let me do this and then it will be over.”

He turned to his little brother, who looked like he was about to speak as well, “And that goes for you too. Please...there’s nothing to say.” His face remained expressionless, but his eyes relayed his thanks for their silent support, and then without saying anything else, he walked out of the room.

The corridors had never seemed so long as they did that morning as Elrohir trailed behind the elf who had come to summon him. He didn’t know this particular elf, but that wasn’t too surprising, since there were still a great many elves that he hadn’t met since his return. He was grateful that this one didn’t feel inclined to speak and followed him silently until they at last came to the guest rooms that had been set aside for Lord Bremon and his party. Without saying anything at all, the strange elf gave a short nod, and then walked quietly away.

Elrohir stood outside the door for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had expected to see his father this morning with some kind of instructions on how this was to work. After a few minutes of just standing there, though, he realized that he was on his own and finally decided to knock.

After hearing an “Enter,” Elrohir opened the door and walked into Lord Bremon’s room. The table in his chambers had been set up with breakfast and there were two places set. Elrohir was unaware that he was actually supposed to eat with the dwarf, but sat down nonetheless when Lord Bremon gestured to the other chair.

The following hour turned out to be a complete surprise for both of them. Elrohir had expected the dwarven lord to be pompous and angry after his behavior the previous day, while Lord Bremon had expected the young elven lord to be hostile and barely civil after being ordered to apologize. Neither one of their predictions turned out to be even remotely correct. Elrohir found Lord Bremon personable and even amusing as the dwarf led the conversation, effortlessly putting his breakfast guest at ease. And Lord Bremon was thoroughly charmed by Elrohir’s sincere apology followed by his subdued, yet friendly demeanor. By the end of the breakfast, both had come to see in the other a potential friend and were quite pleased at how the morning had turned out.

It would have thrilled everyone if Elrohir’s success with Lord Bremon had translated into him feeling more content with himself overall, but Elrohir didn’t allow himself to see that he had taken a difficult task and done a wonderful job. No...the sad young elf only told himself afterward that he was thankful how things had turned out, but that it wouldn’t have been necessary if he hadn’t made such a mess of things to begin with.

Thus, the incident with the dwarves, no matter how well it turned out in the end, was the catalyst for Elrohir withdrawing even further into himself. Days after the talks were over and the dwarven delegation had left, the family was dismayed to see Elrohir becoming even more reclusive and joyless.

Elrond, who had long since calmed down and was berating himself up one side and down the other for his thoughtless treatment of his son earlier, pulled Elrohir aside after a particularly gloomy lunch, determined to get through to his son.

“Elrohir,” he said once the two of them were alone in his study, “It is obvious you are very unhappy here. I’d like you to talk to me--tell me what I can do to help you feel more content.”

Elrond couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips at hearing the title. Yes...he knew he deserved that, but it still hurt when his son so clearly was determined to keep his distance.

Getting straight to the point, Elrond tried to once more get through to his stubborn, but hurting boy, “Son, I am sorry I was harsh with you before. It was my anger speaking and I let it get the better of me. Of course, you were rude to our guest, but you repaired the damage and now we should all put this behind us.”

Elrohir regarded his father. Did he really believe that he could put it behind him that easily?

Elrond put a hand on his shoulder, but the younger elf stiffened at the touch, causing his father to pull it away sadly.

Elrohir looked intently at his father, desperately wanting to blurt out all his fears and sorrows, but he was too deeply mired in despondency to believe that anything would change by telling him. No...it would only show his weak character and nothing would be solved, so he simply said nothing.

After it became apparent that he wasn’t going to open up, Elrond reluctantly told Elrohir he could go. Once his son had left and the Lord of Rivendell was alone, he sat at his desk and then buried his face in his arms. His heart felt like breaking as he contemplated never being able to find a way to regain the trust he had unwittingly shattered.

After several more weeks went by, a new “normal” was established for the expected behavior of Elrond’s middle son. On the surface, Elrohir’s behavior was flawless. The clever elf had learned his role well and appeared calm, articulate, and polished—the perfect model of an elven lord. But what was now completely missing was the spark of vitality that had always been such a key part of Elrohir’s personality, even in the months after his brothers had found him. In contrast to his current behavior, his earlier behavior (although subdued as well), seemed positively giddy. Now it became apparent that the young elf was completely bereft of any sense of joy in his life.

This was not Elrohir being stubborn and reclusive just for its own sake or to prove a point. No, it was because the young elf had decided after his disaster with the dwarves, he would never again allow himself to be in the position to embarrass or otherwise harm his family. If the only way to ensure that it never happened was to close his feelings off and concentrate on making no mistakes, then that’s exactly what he would do.

He started using the isolated parapet that he’d stumbled across as a sort of sanctuary. It became the place he could be alone when he found that he needed to escape the others for awhile. He had never seen anyone on it, so it was perfect when he wanted to find refuge from his growing unhappiness. It was the perfect hideout from the imperfect situation in which he found himself. He wanted to feel like he belonged here and was a valuable member of the family, but more and more he was realizing that his contributions were limited at best, if not at times actually detrimental.

It was there that he went one evening after his return. The months since he’d been home had changed his life greatly.

Far from the happiness one would have expected for the young elf, Elrohir found himself wishing that he’d never been found—that Estel had never come to the farm and brought him home. It had been a lonely, often brutal life of toil and hardship, but that was nothing compared to the certain knowledge that he had become a burden to his family. In his distress and unhappiness, Elrohir could not see any of the joy his mere presence brought to his friends and family. All he saw, was that his father and brothers, whom he had come to love more dearly than life itself, had had to pick up the pieces of whatever disaster he created. He could see how much his actions troubled the others, and could only wish that he could disappear and trouble them no more.

But that would mean that he would have some place to go. As he sat their looking out into the early twilight, he asked the sky his continuing, unanswerable questions, “Who am I?…Where do I belong?” As he realized the answer to that question was “nowhere,” his despondency threatened to overwhelm him.

“I am worthless,” the miserable elf whispered, the hatred he felt for himself clear in every syllable.

It was a greatly despondent figure that sat alone on the parapet for hours, shrouded in misery. Elrohir wasn’t even aware of the passing of time as his dark thoughts consumed him. Grim ideas drifted in and out of his consciousness…ideas of ridding his family of his worthless presence. Ideas that would take him away from his family and the possibility of ever letting them down again. Ideas of hiding, ideas of running away, even ideas of finding a way to end his misery permanently.

It was that final thought that Elrohir toyed with for quite some time. He so despised himself that for awhile he couldn’t get past the thought that everyone would be better off if he wasn’t around. If he had not been an elf, perhaps the long drop off the tower would have tempted Elrohir with a quick solution to his problem, but taking one’s own life was simply not something that an elf, even a deeply depressed one without memories, could seriously contemplate. Life was sacred to these immortal beings and Elrohir, despite his despondency, eventually recognized that that was just not an action that he would be able to take.

Trapped, therefore, in a lonely cycle of self-hatred and inability to act, he debated internally for hours on what to do. At first he was unable to come up with any solution—there was no way out of his misery, but he simply couldn’t continue on as he was. However, unbeknownst to him, the inner strength and courage that was an innate part of the young elf hadn’t abandoned him entirely. Slowly it forced him to refocus his energies on finding a way to improve his situation and so eventually he decided that instead of ridding his family of his worthless presence, he’d find a way to make himself useful. Somehow, some way, he determined, he would find a way to earn his family’s approval and prove to them that he could be worthy of their regard.

Tucked into a corner of his tower refuge, Elrohir may have sat for many more hours as he worked through his strategy, but fortunately was brought back to reality by the call of a night warbler that was hopping all around the unhappy elf. Flying high over the tall towers that adorned the home of Rivendell’s lord, the little bird had spied him curled up on the parapet and, curious, had descended lower and landed on the edge of the railing that ringed the top of the tower. It had hopped around, waiting to see what manner of creature had entered its world, but when Elrohir didn’t move, it had finally called out in its small voice, trilling a greeting to the silent elf.

Elrohir’s head shot up in surprise as the bird’s call penetrated his thoughts. He had been completely oblivious to the long passage of time and realized with alarm what the little bird’s presence meant. The night warbler only came out at dusk...which meant that he was late for dinner.

*No!* was his only thought. He couldn’t be late! So much for his plan to earn his family’s regard. His first act would be to show up late to dinner, only adding to his long list of disgraces. Pausing only to send a short nod of thanks to the little bird for his timely arrival, Elrohir leapt to his feet and pushed through the door.

The troubled elf flew down the spiraling stairs, leaping down several at a time in his haste. He just couldn’t be late! He raced down at an ever-increasing pace in his frenzy, his still irrational thoughts telling him that being late to dinner would be just another testament of his unreliability. Naturally, the bad luck that had plagued the younger twin for some time coupled with his hurry and distraction led to the inevitable conclusion. After managing to safely descend over half-way down the tower, Elrohir misjudged his landing after jumping over several stairs and...his foot slipped off the edge of the stair and he pitched forward abruptly. Throwing out his arms to catch himself, he gasped when his wrist took the full weight of his fall and his left hand twisted beneath him, thus causing his shoulder to slam into the wall. After seeing stars from crashing into the unyielding stone, the young elf next found himself careening out of control, falling head-over-heels down the stairs. At first he desperately tried to slow his descent, but wicked fate intervened again and as he rounded a corner, his left foot drove into a wall and he felt a searing pain shoot up his leg as he heard the sickening sound of a bone snapping. Following that, he gave up all pretense of trying to stop himself as his world shrank into a dizzying view of stairs, walls, and windows.

When at last the hapless elf landed at the bottom, he simply lay there in shock as he tried to get his breathing under control and still his trembling limbs. Thoroughly dazed and in overwhelming pain, Elrohir was unable to even comprehend what had just happened to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of a driving urgency to be somewhere, but the battered elf’s thoughts were so jumbled that he couldn’t even remember what that critical destination was.

It was several more minutes before he was able to move and even then Elrohir’s motions were slow and unsteady. Knowing only that he had to be somewhere important, he tried to stand, pulling himself up the wall with his one good hand. He leaned hard against the cold stone in order to keep himself upright as the pain of his broken ankle finally caught up with him. Just moving it was agonizing and the confused elf gave a very uncharacteristic whimper as he realized that his injuries, both on the left side, would keep him from going anywhere.

He stayed upright, leaning against the wall in a daze before his head finally started to clear and his situation came into focus. He shook his head as he remembered his ‘important’ appointment. Obviously, getting to dinner on time was no longer even an issue. The fact was, Elrohir was in trouble. No one knew where he was and no one would come looking for him here--he had to get out of this cursed stairway and into the main part of the house before he could find much-needed help. Taking a deep breath before he began, Elrohir pressed his shoulder into the wall, ignoring the pain from his myriad bruises, and slowly slid forward with a small hop, being as careful as possible not to jolt either his throbbing wrist or ankle.

Progress was painfully slow, but he eventually made headway and reached the door leading from the stairway into the hall. After a careful balancing act, Elrohir tugged it open and slid through, dismayed when he saw that the passageway beyond was equally empty. With nothing to do but persevere, the injured elf continued to pull himself along the wall, inch by inch. He didn’t know how much time had passed as he focused only on getting out of the side hall and into one of the main corridors where he was more likely to find someone who could aid him.

Time no longer had any meaning as Elrohir concentrated only on moving forward. Over and over he repeated his movements—slide shoulder along wall, hop forward on right foot, slide shoulder along wall, hop forward on right foot. He was making slow but steady progress and the door to the main corridor was only a few feet away when a side door he was leaning against opened without warning and he fell through…directly on to whomever was coming through said door.

Completely unprepared, Elrohir and his hapless victim fell onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. The young elf had no time to steel himself for the inevitable pain from banging his injured limbs and cried out as he and the other elf slammed into the floor.

Momentarily awash in pain, Elrohir was unable to even pull himself off of the elf beneath him. But fortunately the other elf wasn’t really injured in the fall, only startled, and was able to easily roll his ‘attacker’ off him, at which point the elf exclaimed in astonishment, “Elrohir, what in all of Arda happened to you!?”

Elrohir looked up from where he was curled on the floor into the very surprised face of his father’s advisor, Erestor.

“Erestor,” he said shakily. “I am so glad to see you,” he continued as he tried to sit up.

The older elf quickly got to his knees and almost gasped in alarm as he took in the state of his lord’s son. “Do not move,” he ordered, his concern evident in his voice. He had no idea what had happened to the young elf, but he was certain that the best thing for Elrohir was to lie still while he assessed the situation.

It would have been impossible for anyone to be around Lord Elrond as long as Erestor had without picking up some knowledge of healing, and so he was able to quickly determine the worst of Elrohir’s injuries. He was fairly certain that none of them were life-threatening, but they would be causing the young elf a great deal of pain and he needed to get him quickly to the infirmary. He was also fairly certain, however, that he wasn’t strong enough to carry the tall, well-built elf all the way to the healing chambers.

Cursing his own slight frame, Erestor knew he would need some help getting Elrohir to the infirmary, but he was loath to leave the injured elf alone. He had watched Elrohir as a merry little elf grow into a strong, proud warrior and while the older elf was not as effusive as some others, Erestor still loved Elrohir dearly in his own, quiet way. Many times when the twins had been small elflings, the calm, seemingly stern elf had cared for their little hurts and he thus found it hard to leave Elrohir while he was obviously in pain. Reluctantly deciding that he’d have to do just that, however, he pressed a light hand on Elrohir’s chest and firmly warned the young elf to “stay here and lie still,” before getting up and rushing to find help.

Fortune was smiling on Erestor, for he had barely entered the main hall when he found just the person to help him. Glorfindel was walking at the end of the corridor and turned when he heard his fellow advisor calling out to him. At the anxious tones, he hurried over to his friend and was dismayed when Erestor told him of finding Elrohir injured. The two quickly returned to where he had been left, hoping that the foolish elf had had the sense to listen for once and stay put!

Indeed, Elrohir hadn’t moved at all from where Erestor had left him. Not only were his injuries telling him to lie still, but he was so grateful to have found someone to help him that he wasn’t about to make his father’s advisor angry by disobeying him.

Glorfindel skidded to his knees as he took in Elrohir’s disheveled appearance—he looked like he’d fought a warg...and lost. Clothes ripped, hair unbound, scrapes and bruises covering all visible skin, including a rather vicious bruise across his cheek, wrist swollen and ankle dangling at an odd angle—Elrohir was a mess! The elven lord hesitated a moment before touching the young elf, remembering the last time he’d tried, but then common sense told him that he’d have to touch Elrohir in order to help him.

“What have you done, young one?” he asked gently, keeping the alarm from his voice as he tentatively brushed the hair out of Elrohir’s face.

“Glorfindel, explanations should wait till later,” interrupted Erestor. “We must get him to the infirmary and find Lord Elrond.”

“Aye, you are right,” responded Glorfindel, seeing the wisdom in his friend’s words.

He readied himself to pick up the injured elf and carefully tried to decide the best way to carry Elrohir without hurting him further. Finally admitting there would be no way to avoid any pain, he said, “Elrohir, I will need to pick you up in order to take you to the healing chambers. I promise I will be careful, but this may hurt a bit. Are you ready?”

Determined not to make any sound to indicate weakness, Elrohir nodded quickly. This was a simple matter for one who had been silent for years, so he took a deep breath and concentrated on remaining quiet as the large warrior gently scooped him up into his arms.

Erestor held open the door to the main hall as Glorfindel carried their young friend through. After their way to the infirmary was clear, Erestor left them to find Elrond while Glorfindel continued on with Elrohir. The great warrior hurried along, cradling the injured elf as if he were still a child. He was sorry to see Elrohir hurt, of course, but secretly admitted to himself that he felt no small pleasure in the chance to care for the young elf that he, too, had helped raise and loved as his own.

In no time at all, he reached the infirmary and gently laid Elrohir onto the padded table in the center of the room. He looked around, annoyed to find no healer rushing to his aid--in fact, there was no one there at all. Elrond always insisted that the infirmary be staffed and would not be pleased to find that his son was injured and there was no one there to tend to him! Anger fueled by worry rushed through the elf as he tried to decide what to do. Elrohir had made no sound while he had been carried to the infirmary, but from his pinched, white face and pain-filled eyes, it was clear that the young elf needed immediate care. He didn’t want to leave Elrohir alone to search for a healer, but he didn’t know how long he would be able to wait before someone showed up. Before he could make up his mind on whether or not he should go, though, Nindal, one of Elrond’s many trained healers entered from the back store room and then stopped in shock as he saw a rather angry Lord Glorfindel glaring at him.

“Lord Glorfindel, what can I do for you? Are you injured?” Nindal stammered.

“Do I look injured?” the angry elf answered sarcastically. “What you can do for me is to tend to your patient who is lying on yon bed!” he finished, pointing to Elrohir.

Nindal had no idea what had angered the elven lord, but all concerns vanished when he saw an elf in need of his care, especially when he noted that it was Elrohir. Not only was it his lord’s son who needed help, but Elrohir was also his friend. Elrond had taught all his children the healing arts and Nindal had spent countless hours with him as the twins had diligently learned their lessons on caring for others.

“What happened to him?” Nindal asked Glorfindel, all business as he tried to determine the extent of Elrohir’s injuries.

“I am not certain,” answered Glorfindel, calming down and now sounding more worried than angry. “But he said he fell.”

“You may ask me, you know,” interjected Elrohir a bit testily. “My tongue was not injured, after all.”

“My apologies, Lord Elrohir,” said Nindal smoothly. “Could you please tell me what happened?”

Wanting to snicker at the irritated snort from Glorfindel at the unhelpful answer, Nindal carefully kept his face impassive as he questioned further, “And how did you fall?”

“I slipped,” answered Elrohir, apparently feeling rather contrary now and not about to tell the whole story without it being pried from him.

Jumping back into the conversation, Glorfindel asked skeptically, “Slipped? Where?” Whatever had happened to the younger twin was more than just a little slip!

“On some stairs,” clarified Elrohir with a glare for his rescuer. “Would you like to know which ones? Perhaps I should show you!” he stated with irritation as he tried to sit up. His frazzled thoughts were taking Glorfindel’s questions as some kind of accusation and he wasn’t in the mood to tolerate anything at the moment.

“Peace, Lord Elrohir,” Nindal directed calmly, pushing the young elf back down. “Details are unimportant right now.”

Turning to Glorfindel, he continued, “Perhaps you could go and locate Lord Elrond? These injuries do not appear grievous, but I know he would wish to aid his son himself.”

“Erestor is already trying to find him, but I will go now and assist him,” answered Glorfindel, recognizing Nindal’s polite way of trying to get him to leave. Obviously, Elrohir was tense and his presence wasn’t helping things.

He started to walk to the door, but then turned and went to Elrohir’s side. Squeezing his uninjured hand lightly, he said quietly, “My apologies Elrohir. I certainly did not mean to upset you. I am only concerned for your well-being.”

Elrohir nodded tightly before turning away, the last of his energy draining away with his little outburst. Now, he just wished everyone would leave him alone. First the struggle to find help and then the painful jolting his body took when he was carried to the infirmary had exhausted him, leaving him only with a wish to sink into a dark oblivion and leave his pain and disturbing thoughts behind.

With a final small squeeze, Glorfindel walked away, leaving a relieved Nindal to take care of his patient. He briskly went about pulling out the various supplies he’d need and was just beginning to cut the cuff of Elrohir’s tunic when Elrond burst through the doors.

Erestor had found the elven lord already looking for his son, who had not arrived for their family dinner on time. Despite Elrohir’s quiet and solitary tendencies, he had never failed to make an appearance when asked, so his family had been concerned and had all gone looking for him when he failed to come to dinner. Erestor had found his lord searching in the twins’ rooms, and had informed him of Elrohir’s accident. As a father and a healer, Elrond had then wasted no time in hurrying to the healing chambers where he found Nindal carefully cutting the sleeve of Elrohir’s tunic.

The younger healer looked up from his work and greeted his lord, “He fell down some stairs, my lord. I was just removing his clothes so I could see what damage had been done.”

Letting his assistant continue what he was doing, Elrond moved to stand near his son’s head and asked him tenderly, “How do you feel, Elrohir?”

Elrohir had been lying quietly ever since his angry outburst at Glorfindel and was beginning to feel utterly wretched as he realized that he’d now have to face his father’s disappointment. He just didn’t feel strong enough to see the unhappiness that he knew would be reflected in his father’s face. Still, he at least tried to answer the question. The young elf hesitantly looked at his father and admitted miserably, “I hurt.”

The elven lord laughed softly and answered, “Yes, I expect that you do. It was a rather foolish question, was it not?”

Elrond waited for his son to answer but was disappointed when Elrohir wouldn’t respond to him and instead, turned his head away wearily. The sad father looked down upon his broken child and wanted to weep. Once again he thought of the despair that had robbed him of his beloved wife and feared that he may be facing the same tragedy again.

Then determination entered his soul. No...he would not lose this child as well! Going to work quickly, he and Nindal finished cutting off Elrohir’s clothes and assessed the damaged he’d done to himself. Fortunately, other than a large amount of severe bruising and some scrapes, the only real damage was a badly sprained wrist and a broken ankle.

*Oh Elrohir, I wish the fates would leave you alone for once,* Elrond thought to himself with a sigh as he covered up his son with a sheet and then went over to prepare a draught of his special tea. He wanted to make sure Elrohir felt as little pain as possible when he set his ankle and wrapped his wrist.

The potion was ready in short order and Elrond returned to his son’s side with a full cup. With Nindal’s assistance, he levered him up and helped him drink the bitter tea. Shuddering at the nasty aftertaste but grateful that he’d be feeling its affects soon, Elrohir closed his eyes wearily when he was laid back down. This was not how he’d planned to gain his family’s confidence! Perhaps he had been right the first time. He was worthless and they would be better off without him!

None of the young elf’s thoughts were visible to his anxious father, who quickly and expertly set his ankle and then wrapped his wrist. Neither was a very severe injury, but since they were both on the same side, Elrohir would be bedridden for several days until his ankle was strong enough to support him as his damaged wrist would not allow him to use a crutch. This thought concerned his father, who didn’t know how this latest setback would affect his moody son, but he knew that there was nothing to do for that right now.

With the worst injuries cared for, Elrond and Nindal then began to look to the myriad superficial injuries that covered Elrohir’s body. Scrapes, bruises, and bumps were spread over his skin and Elrond also suspected several pulled muscles that would need later massaging to ease. Grimly setting to work, he pulled out a jar of soothing ointment just as Elladan and Aragorn came tearing into the infirmary.

Glorfindel had found the two of them wandering the halls in search of their brother and the two had rushed to the infirmary as soon as they’d heard that he had been in some sort of accident.

Aragorn said nothing as he silently watched his father and Nindal hover over his brother, cleaning scrapes and wrapping bandages where needed.

“Ro, what did you do this time?” he asked with a scowl. “You must learn to take more care!”

Elrohir was feeling a bit light-headed from the tea, but frowned when he heard his twin’s tone. Hurting and feeling more like an idiot than ever, he sorrowfully noted that his twin was angry with him! “I just fell,” he mumbled wretchedly.

“Just fell? Ro, you did less damage when you ‘just fell’ from a tree! What were you doing anyway?” Elladan demanded, once again sounding annoyed in order to hide an almost overwhelming fear. He couldn’t imagine what had happened to his twin in the safety of their home and was secretly panic-stricken at the thought that maybe Elrohir had injured himself on purpose!

The effect of his words on Elrohir, however, was obvious to all except his twin and Elrond looked sharply at his eldest—didn’t he realize what his words were doing to his brother? This was not the time to be berating Elrohir! Wanting to stay and finish caring for his son but realizing the greater need to get Elladan away from his twin before he did any more damage, Elrond turned to his youngest and asked, “Estel, could you finish here? Nindal can help you if you need assistance. Elladan and I have something we need to take care of.”

Aragorn agreed quietly while a puzzled and frustrated Elladan followed his father out of the room.

After their father had taken Elladan out of the room, Aragorn and Nindal went to work finishing up caring for the injuries on the front of Elrohir’s body and then oh-so-carefully turned him over. There weren’t enough potions and creams to finish the job, so they covered Elrohir up while they pulled the rest of the supplies from the cabinet and then brought them over to his bedside. Aragorn knew that he was more than capable of caring for his brother and he also wanted some time alone with him, so after quick words with Nindal during which the older elf warned him to be careful of Elrohir’s strained muscles, Nindal went back to organizing the storeroom and left Aragorn to finish caring for Elrohir’s wounds. Finally ready, the young man pulled the sheets down to his brother’s waist, wincing as he contemplated the many scrapes and dark bruises that covered his back. Elrohir was certainly going to be feeling this for a few days.

He opened up a jar of ointment and then carefully rubbed it into one of the scraped patches, glancing at the elf’s face to see if he was causing too much pain. But Elrohir had turned his head to one side and just stared straight ahead, not indicating in any way that he even noticed what his brother was doing.

When he had finished with the scrapes, Aragorn uncorked a small bottle of oil and worked it into his hands before carefully pressing his palms into Elrohir’s shoulders. He shook his head as he felt the muscles, rock-solid with tension. Nindal had been right—Elrohir’s muscles were as tight as any he’d ever felt and he needed to relax them before the wounded elf would be able to rest. He gently started massaging his shoulders, being careful to avoid the bruises where he could, but he was dismayed to feel that Elrohir was tensing up even more.

“Relax, Ro,” murmured the young man quietly, “this is to make you feel better, not worse.”

Elrohir shifted under his hands as if trying to pull away. “You needn’t do this,” he said flatly.

But Aragorn just smiled and continued anyway, telling his brother, “You are quite tense and have strained some muscles. This will help you rest.”

“Please stop. I am fine,” said the young elf as firmly as he could manage while he tried once again to pull his shoulders away from Aragorn’s strong hands.

Elrohir glanced up at him and then turned his head away before asking, “Why do you help me? I only cause you trouble.”

“What are you saying, Elrohir?” Aragorn asked, mystified at his brother’s words.

Maybe it was the pain. Maybe it was the depths of desolation that he’d fallen to, but for some reason, Elrohir found himself inexplicably telling his brother his deepest feelings.

“You should not be helping me. I am not worthy of your care,” said the sad young elf, his self-loathing finally apparent to his brother.

Aragorn stopped his ministrations, stunned to hear the utter desolation in his brother’s voice. How had they let it get to this? How had they not seen just how terribly unhappy Elrohir had become? He supposed that it was partly Elrohir’s fault for hiding his feelings from them, but Aragorn was upset with himself for not seeing before how far things had gone.

After a deep breath, he said, “Elrohir, you are obviously under the misguided impression that we should care for you only if you somehow earn it. You could not be more wrong.”

Seeing no response one way or the other from Elrohir, Aragorn paused a moment before deciding exactly what to say. He needed to be precise with his words so as not to make anything worse.

Thinking quickly, after a deep breath the young man asked, “Do you remember the story of how I came to live with you?” After a long pause, Elrohir finally gave a small nod and then Aragorn continued, “You have heard Elladan speak of that time and Ada as well, but you never heard me tell you my recollections. In truth, Elrohir, it is not that you have forgotten what I said in the past, because even before you lost your memories, I never told you what I am about to tell you now.”

Aragorn gently started the massage again on Elrohir’s shoulders and back as he continued, “You heard Elladan speak of the two of you coming to my home with my father’s body and bringing me and my mother back to live with you here. And of course Ada spoke of my early days here. But you have not heard that I also remember certain things about those times very clearly. Indeed I was extremely young, but I still recall many things—perhaps because it was all so life-changing—but none-the-less I still remember. For instance, I recall seeing you and Elladan for the first time. I had never seen elves before and was so amazed when I saw the two of you—I thought for awhile that all elves must look alike!”

He smiled at the thought before continuing, “You both were very quiet and serious at first so when I met you I also thought elves were especially severe and frightening. Elladan—he remained that way the entire trip home and so it wasn’t until later that I realized that he wasn’t really so stern and imposing. But you...you were different right away. After we left my home and took to the forests, you made a point of taking a sad, frightened little boy and showering him with attention. You let me ride in front of you on your horse. You carried me on your shoulders and pointed out things of interest on our journey. You told me stories at night and wrapped me in your cloak when it grew chilly. I felt so safe and secure...and special with you. I never thanked you before for what you did for me back then, Elrohir, but I thank you now. And so if you ever doubt that you have earned my care and affection a thousand times over, just know that you showed that little boy...me...that my life hadn’t ended with my father’s death and there were still things in life that I could be happy about. Even if you never remember it yourself, I will remember it for the both of us.”

Aragorn paused for a moment as he remembered those times, amazed that even after all these years, the memories were still powerful. He looked at Elrohir’s face, pleased to see that some of the bleakness had faded as his brother pondered his words. With a little smile, he poured out some more oil and worked it into his hands before starting in on the lower back. His brother hissed as he hit a particularly tense spot, but then he could feel Elrohir slowly relaxing as his strong hands eased the soreness from his back.

Picking up his narrative, he went on, “And your kindness didn’t stop once we arrived home, you realize. Over the years, in every way that mattered, you and Elladan became my brothers. Did you know that you two were the ones who first taught me to handle a bow? Or took me on my first hunting trip? Or that you helped me climb my first tree and taught me to swim?” Small shakes of Elrohir’s head told Aragorn that his brother was at least following what he was saying, so he continued, “You and Elladan also introduced me to the pleasures of midnight raids on the kitchen, and of course, numerous...uh, innocent pranks on deserving elders.” With an affectionate smile he continued, “Ro, I do so wish you could remember all our good times so you would see that you never have to doubt your worth to us.”

Aragorn saw that Elrohir was frowning slightly and decided to change focus to help his brother truly understand what he was saying. “Elrohir, let me put it thus, if Elladan or Ada were hurt, terribly hurt, and could no longer do the same things that they do now, would you think any less of them?”

The young ranger smiled at the Elrohir’s shocked expression as he vigorously shook his head.

“I thought not,” he said firmly. “Well, dear brother, it is the same with you. Whether or not you acknowledge it, you were hurt badly and have still not recovered. We do not think less of you for it—in truth, your health and happiness is all we wish for.”

“But I am afraid,” admitted Elrohir, so low that Aragorn almost didn’t hear him.

Instinctively knowing that this was a key to whatever Elrohir was feeling, Aragorn asked quietly, “Afraid, Ro? Afraid of what?”

At first he thought his brother wouldn’t answer, but at last he heard a very bitter, “Afraid of disappointing those I care for…afraid of doing the wrong thing…afraid that someone will get hurt through my incompetence. I live in fear—I am a coward!”

Expecting disgust at this monumental confession, Elrohir was completely surprised by the response from Aragorn. Not only did the young man not immediately confirm his brother’s assessment, but he laughed out loud instead.

“Elrohir,” the young man then said firmly, “you could not be a coward if you tried!”

When Elrohir only scowled, disbelieving his words, Aragorn continued a bit more softly, “Ro, much of what I learned came from both you and Elladan as well as from Ada, Glorfindel, Erestor, and dozens of others who have guided me over the years. But courage…the true face of courage…I learned from you.”

Sitting down for a moment so he could look into Elrohir’s face, he continued, “I will tell you the whole story later if you wish, but for now, let me assure you that you were the one who taught me the true meaning of bravery. It wasn’t a lesson learned on a battlefield, although you have shown your measure there often enough. It was in a dank, dark, confining cave filled with rats that I was shown what it means to have courage. You showed me, though your actions, that courage is not to be without fear, but to do what needs doing regardless of your fears—to persevere even in the face of your greatest nightmares. I have never forgotten that lesson, Elrohir, and will never, ever accept that you are a coward.”

Aragorn used the back of his hand to gently stroke his brother’s cheek when he noted the confused and tired look on Elrohir’s face. “You need to rest now, Ro, but please believe what I say and think on what I have told you,” he said quietly. He didn’t know if he had actually gotten through to Elrohir, but he hoped his brother would accept some of his words.

Standing up and continuing his tasks quietly, Aragorn finished rubbing out all the kinks in Elrohir’s back and when he was done, noted with a smile that the exhausted elf had closed his eyes and was now breathing evenly in a deep sleep. As he contemplated the slumbering elf, Aragorn wondered if this is what his brothers had felt when they had tucked him in as a child—this warm, protective feeling that left him ready to fight the world in order to keep him safe.

He wiped off his hands, pulled the sheets back up over his brother’s back, and then sat in the chair next to the bed for awhile, deep in thought. By explaining his memories and thoughts to Elrohir, it had helped him get his own feelings in order and he was feeling better himself than he had for quite some time.

He sighed as he softly patted Elrohir’s undamaged hand, careful not to wake him up. He so loved this sad, stubborn brother of his and was feeling quite sorry that he hadn’t made an earlier effort to show him just how important he was to all of the family. Yes, his own feelings had been hurt when Elrohir had accepted the others more easily than him, but he now felt that he should have tried harder to look beyond his own hurt and understand what Elrohir was going through. And he certainly should have tried harder to show how much he cared for his brother.

When at last Nindal returned from the storeroom and Aragorn was free to get a long-overdue dinner, he gave his brother one last look and tentatively bent over and whispered, “Sleep well, brother…I love you,” and gave him a feather-light kiss on the temple before quietly leaving the room, sad that Elrohir would not be aware of the gesture.

Elrohir slept through the rest of the evening and the entire night, awaking early the next morning just as the first rays of the sun reached the valley floor. His first conscious thoughts were that he was still lying face-down on the bed and was feeling terribly achy. Preferring to lie on his back, the elf tried to roll over but then groaned as he realized that he was so stiff and sore that he could barely move.

“Ro, you are awake? How do you feel?” asked Elladan, who had been dozing in a chair next to the bed but had jolted upright when his twin had moved.

Elrohir looked over at his twin, moving only his eyes and not his head as he fought back another groan. Valar, he was sore! Remembering Elladan’s words from the day before and his own feelings of self-hatred, his first instinct was to assume that his brother had come back to finish his lecture for falling down the stairs...but then his little brother’s words forced their way back into his thoughts. Estel had said that they all cared for him--that there was no need to earn their regard and they were only concerned for his well-being. Unable to completely banish those words, the injured elf glanced at his twin from the corners of his eyes, looking for some kind of validation one way or the other. Carefully studying Elladan, he saw no irritation, no impatience, no condemnation. All he saw was sincere concern and worry. Could Estel have been right? That they all cared for him no matter what and didn’t consider him a burden? That his fears did not mark him as a low, contemptuous creature? As the possibility struck him, his eyes welled up with tears and he turned his head away. Could his nightmare truly be over that easily? Was the answer that simple? Had he been so wrong?

The elder twin saw the tears and could only assume that his brother was hurting terribly, either physically or emotionally. “Ro, are you in pain? Can I get something for you?” he asked worriedly.

When Elrohir shook his head and said nothing, Elladan continued, “Then you are upset with my words from yesterday. Brother, I am so sorry. I meant nothing by them and have been quite angry with myself for upsetting you, especially when you were hurt. It was thoughtless. Please forgive me.”

Elrohir turned his head back and tried to look up at Elladan. Still lying on his stomach, it was hard to look into his twin’s face and he grimaced as he tried to roll over again. “Elladan, I am not upset by your words. I just...ah...could you help me roll over first?” he asked.

“With pleasure,” answered his brother with a tender smile and quickly moved to help him onto his back.

Elladan was careful to be gentle, but even so, by the time he had been rolled over, Elrohir was gritting his teeth from the pain. Now he knew what the expression “bruises having bruises” meant!

After a couple of deep breaths, he looked up at Elladan again. “I feel as if a herd of wild oliphaunts had used me as a play toy,” he said with a shake of his head. “Truly, I do not recommend my method for going down stairs!”

Elladan actually stared at his brother in shock. He simply didn’t know what to say. Was Elrohir being lighthearted and joking with him?

Elrohir was still feeling every bruise and bump that covered his body, but even so he wanted to smile at the perplexed, dumbfounded expression on his brother’s face. Without remembering an exact incident, somehow he just knew that he had been responsible in times past for causing the exact same expression on his twin’s face—inexplicably he felt his heart lighten as he thought about how much fun it would be to give his brother a hard time.

The hint of a gleam in his twin’s eyes told a grateful Elladan that yes, indeed, Elrohir had responded to him in a lighthearted way and for some unknown reason, was not nearly as morose as he’d been just the day before.

He took a chair next to the bed and for the next few minutes, the two of them talked quietly as Elrohir filled his brother in on just what ‘method’ he’d used to get down the stairs. He was rather embarrassed at his clumsiness, but somehow it no longer bothered him so much to share that with his twin.

Only a few minutes later, Elrond entered the infirmary--as always attuned to his patient’s status, he had known the moment Elrohir had woken up and had come as soon as he’d been able.

Seeing the pale face and lined forehead of his middle child, he greeted the twins and then stated gently, “I can see you are in pain, my son. Would you take something to ease it?”

Elrohir regarded his father in mild surprise. Surely his father didn’t think a few bruises and a broken ankle were more than he could stand! “I admit to feeling sore, Ada,” he said truthfully, “but I have endured far worse without requiring pain relief.”

While Elrond silently acknowledged the sad truth of those words, he also noted with joy his son’s use of ‘Ada.’ Elrohir hadn’t called him that in some time and he found it difficult to keep himself from giving in to his desires and scooping Elrohir up into a hug. He resisted the impulse, however, for not only would his son’s bruised body not appreciate such an act, but Elrohir had been avoiding such intimacy for awhile and Elrond didn’t want to do anything to upset the young elf, especially when his demeanor seemed lighter than it had in some time. Still, he needed to ensure his son understood that things were different from the past when he had been alone in his suffering, “Elrohir, I am so sorry there were times when you were injured and had no one to care for you, but that is no longer the case. I am able to give you something for the pain that would help you rest better...and I would enjoy caring for you, young one.”

Once again, Estel’s words came back to the young elf as he regarded his father. The loving, concerned look in his father’s eyes appeared to confirm that his family was not upset with him after all, and only wanted him to get better. Honestly confused now at what was reality and what was possibly the product of his own warped view on things, he wasn’t sure what to believe at this point. He most assuredly wanted to rid himself of the crushing feelings of despair and worthlessness, but he couldn’t accept quite yet that he had so misread the situation. Deciding to be watchful first before fully believing Estel’s words, but willing to trust his father for the moment, he quietly agreed to taking more of the bitter tea, allowing its soothing properties to lull him back asleep.

When he next awoke, only Elrond was in the room with him. Apparently he had sent Elladan out some time before and Estel as well, who had also come for a visit. The elven lord didn’t talk much, recognizing his son’s desire for peace and quiet as he recovered from his injuries. Instead, Elrond allowed his presence to reassure Elrohir of his love for him while also allowing himself the comfort of seeing to his son’s needs.

Elrohir’s remaining days of convalescence passed quietly. The injured elf didn’t have much to say as he spent his days in bed, considering. He thought carefully on his little brother’s words and what they meant to him. While this was a great change from the morose, despondent thoughts of before, he allowed none of these thoughts to show on his face as he took this time to observe his family’s behavior. Looking for any sign of their disapproval or condemnation, he was forced to admit that if it had existed before, he certainly couldn’t see it now. He knew he hadn’t imagined his father’s anger over the incident with Lord Bremon or Elladan’s annoyance when he’d returned late to their rooms, but he was being forced to reconsider his earlier grim view of their overall feelings for him. Perhaps those times had been isolated incidents after all and he had allowed his own feelings of worthlessness to color his impressions of everyone else.

He spoke to no one about these revelations as he took his time contemplating all he’d learned. His family, none-the-less, could still see that Elrohir’s outlook somehow seemed more light...less despondent and were cautiously hopeful that this would mark a real change in his overall outlook.

Several days later, the young elf was finally allowed up when he was once again able to put some weight on his ankle. Both it and his wrist remained tightly wrapped, but he was grateful to be able to walk about again and use the increased interactions with others to gather more impressions of his place in their lives. He remained polite and reserved, but was visibly more at peace. Hesitant and always watching, he was clearly not the Elrohir that had ridden off three years earlier, but the change from the withdrawn, unhappy elf was still profound and all welcomed it.

A week after Elrohir’s fall and a few days after he was allowed up, his two brothers could be found on Rivendell’s practice field with a small group of elves. Elladan and Aragorn had joined the realm’s warriors in early-morning training and had been enjoying the chance to practice their arms while Elrohir, naturally, had chosen not to come with them. Elrohir had still not ventured down to the practice fields at all and so the older twin wondered what had brought his reclusive brother out when he heard a very familiar voice call quietly ‘Elladan’ and he saw Elrohir coming down the path toward him.

Before he could question him, Elrohir answered the unspoken question, “Adar sent me to fetch you and Estel. One of the scouting parties has returned early and he’d like us all to be present during their debrief. It is to be in half an hour.”

“Then we have enough time for one more round. We will be ready to go shortly,” said Elladan. He’d hardly had any time to practice since his return and he missed the restful concentration of practicing arms as well as the companionship of their fellow warriors. Aragorn, who was also standing nearby, nodded his acceptance of Elrohir’s message as well.

Elrohir hesitated briefly before saying, “Very well, I will meet you both back inside.”

Elladan gave his twin a quick smile before turning away with just a small sigh. He wished he could get Elrohir to spend more time outside their home. He knew that he was still finding his way and trying to adjust to this life, but he wished things could be different and they could just...do the things they used to do...have fun together. He was eternally grateful that his twin finally seemed to be coming out of the shell that he’d built around himself, but he still stubbornly wanted more! Forcing himself to firmly push his worries aside, he waited his turn behind Belder, a good friend in the Rivendell Guard who was just a few years older than the twins. After watching Belder’s arrows hit one of the targets, he notched his first arrow and sent it effortlessly into the center of one located at the farthest end of the field. In quick succession, he sent the rest of his arrows into the center of the same target. Turning around with a satisfied grin, he was surprised to see that Elrohir was still behind him, watching.

“That was amazing. Did I know how to do that?” asked the younger twin, impressed with his brother’s skill. As long as he was there, he had been curious to see his brother’s abilities and had paused on the path before heading back to the house.

Several of the other nearby elves looked at Elrohir in incredulity at his question.

“Elrohir!” choked Belder. “The only time in over a millennia that you haven’t won an archery contest is when you didn’t compete! Not only could you ‘do this,’ but you were our champion!”

“ARE our champion,” corrected Elladan firmly with a scowl. “He is still here, Belder.”

Elrohir noted the looks of the others—chagrin mixed with...what? But before he could decide, Belder responded.

“Of course, my lord. I apologize,” stammered the rebuked elf. “I only meant...”

“Peace,” interrupted Elrohir. “If I myself do not even remember holding a bow, I cannot fault anyone else for doubting my abilities.”

“Why not demonstrate, my lord? Then there would be no doubt. Here...please use my bow,” suggested Pelondas, a young novice who had always rather hero-worshipped the dark-haired twin ever since Elrohir had been kind to him when he was a very naïve and foolish newcomer. Now he was tired of hearing rumors floating around the barracks like so much gossip and hoped his hero would put all those rumors to rest.

Several of the older warriors felt like smacking the foolish novice upside the head. What a stupid thing to suggest! If their young lord could no longer hit the target, he’d be humiliated in front of everyone! Their barracks talks regarding Elrohir hadn’t been maliciously intended, but rather heartfelt sadness over the fate of one of their favorite warriors. Elrohir had been much-loved for not only for his skill and bravery as a warrior but also for his way of bringing laughter and joy into the lives of those around him and they had missed his presence sorely.

Elrohir stood silent a moment as his mind raced over possible outcomes. To try something like this in front of everyone else was to invite disaster and he looked to his brothers for help. They were both standing together looking rather stricken at Pelondas’ suggestion, fearful of how it would affect Elrohir. The elf in question had kept his features carefully unconcerned, but his brothers could tell what he was thinking and Elladan, although wishing his brother would stop being so hesitant, in his typical role as protector came to his twin’s rescue.

“I am sorry, Elrohir, but I do not believe your wrist is sufficiently healed to draw a bow. Perhaps a demonstration would be better after a bit more time has passed,” he told his twin.

Initial relief rushed through Elrohir. Elladan had given him a face-saving escape. He didn’t have to do this and risk making a fool of himself. He opened his mouth to agree with his brother, but then stopped himself. Estel’s eyes held a sad, disappointed expression. And from the corner of his eyes he caught the pitying looks the other elves were trying to hide. That’s what he’d seen earlier in their faces. Well, enough! He was tired of being some pathetic excuse of an elf who had to be protected from everything, including his own fears. Drawing from the unconscious courage that had brought him this far, Elrohir chose right then and there to take his life back. Succeed or fail, he was tired of hiding.

“Nay, my wrist is sufficiently healed. It was a good suggestion,” he said firmly. “I should like to test my abilities as well.” He turned to the next elf in line and added politely, “Would you permit me to take your turn?”

Receiving a startled nod, Elrohir grasped the bow that Pelondas offered him with a smile for thanks, snagged a quiver of practice arrows, and walked out onto the field. Displaying an outward confidence he did not feel, he carefully strapped on the quiver and stepped up to the mark. He took a calming breath while he realized that there was a great possibility that he would end up looking like a complete idiot before this was over. And worse, if he failed it would be just one more sign that his former life was forever lost to him.

Too late to stop their brother now even if they wanted to, Elladan and Aragorn leaned on the fence railing along with the other warriors and watched as Elrohir studied the targets down the field. If anything, the brothers were more nervous than Elrohir himself. They exchanged a look of fear. They so wanted him to succeed that their stomachs were in knots!

Everyone held their breaths and watched their former champion draw a bow for the first time in years. What if he missed the target completely? What if he couldn’t even remember how to properly position an arrow on the bowstring? What if...

They needn’t have worried. The instant Elrohir pulled the first arrow out of the quiver, he knew that he would succeed. With his back to his audience, he allowed himself a smile as he brought the bow up and notched his first arrow. It was like breathing. He did know how to do this! Aiming for a long-distance target next to the one Elladan had hit, he released the arrow and before it even hit the target, drew another and sent it flying after the first. The first arrow hit the target dead center only to be split in half by the second arrow. Smiling even broader now, the happy elf in quick succession sent the remaining arrows in his quiver downrange. They landed on a fresh target at almost the same time, so rapid were his shots. With a grin, Elrohir cocked his head and looked at his handiwork. The arrows formed a perfect smiley-face in the center of the target!

He turned around, still grinning. “Apparently I do remember something about this, after all,” he told his equally ecstatic audience. They were thrilled to see that not only was Lord Elrohir still a master at archery, but his long-absent quirky sense of humor was obviously intact as well.

Elladan laughed outright in his utter delight at Elrohir’s triumph and obvious joy. “Show off!” he said in amused affection as he draped his arm over his brother’s shoulder. “Now we had better get inside before Ada sends someone after us.”

Aragorn followed behind the twins, his grin as wide as theirs as the three brothers went to meet their father.

Elrohir’s unexpected success with archery marked the beginning of a remarkable change in the young elf. With that breakthrough, he lost much of the hesitancy that had so guided his behavior before and began one by one to try other things. Through trial and error, Elrohir found that if he didn’t think too much about whether or not he could do something, the skills would be there at his fingertips. It was as if his body had memories that his mind had lost. Archery, he learned to his delight, was only the beginning. Over the next several weeks, Elrohir slowly began to rediscover the talents that he had thought lost to him forever.

First was another venture out onto the practice fields. Quietly, and this time without an audience, he went with his brothers and tried the various forms of combat. The sword, long knives, quarterstaff, and even hand-to-hand combat were explored with equally satisfying results. Elrohir couldn’t have told anyone how he knew what to do—he remembered no specific details of his training, but it was clear from the moment he picked up any of the weapons that he had been drilled in their use and was an accomplished warrior.

Next he went back to the infirmary and asked if he could spend some time there with Nindal, just helping out with whatever needed doing. Nindal knew the focused determination of this young elf would be a help even if Elrohir didn’t remember any of his training in the healing arts, so he readily accepted the offer. In short order, though, it became clear that this, too, was something Elrohir remembered if only he didn’t think too hard about how he learned to do specific tasks. The first several times someone came in with an injury, Nindal supervised Elrohir’s treatments, but he quickly realized that Lord Elrond’s middle son was just as experienced a healer as ever, and soon accepted his assistance as a peer rather than a student.

Following that, Elrohir kept trying his hand at anything else he saw his father and brothers doing, almost making a nuisance of himself in his desire to learn and ‘help.’ His family tolerated his constant presence and questions with quiet love and affection, however, willing to put up with any interference in their daily lives in order to spend more time with their beloved brother and son as he visibly became the joyful elf that they had remembered.

The days soon seemed to pass in a comfortable sameness in the house of Rivendell’s lord. The small family as well as their extended group of friends were pleased beyond measure to see the change that had come over Elrohir and at last things seemed to settle down and they were able to simply go about their daily business without worry.

It was just before one of those mundane chores that Elrohir found himself checking his appearance in the large mirror that hung just outside the family’s entrance to the public areas of the palace. He unknowingly echoed his behavior as a child when he would stop in front of the mirror to confirm just one last time that he was properly dressed and would not shame his parents by having a smudge on his face, messed up hair, or a rumpled tunic. He caught a glimpse in the mirror of Aragorn, who had come up behind him and now was shaking his head and grinning at his brother, causing said brother to turn to him quizzically.

“Something amuses you?” Elrohir asked with a smile. “Are my boots on the wrong feet? Tunic backwards, perhaps?”

Clearly he was teasing, since he was immaculate. Aragorn was grateful beyond words, however, to have his brother interact with him in such a familiar way. The younger twin, despite his growing ease with the rest of the family, had still been somewhat distant from his foster brother. Aragorn knew that this was mostly his fault for still not telling Elrohir how he felt (at least, not while Elrohir was awake), but he none-the-less had despaired that his brother would ever treat him like family again.

“Nay,” said Aragorn, “You look perfect as usual. I was just thinking...” his voice trailed off.

Elrohir was starting to turn toward the door when he stopped as his brother paused in mid-sentence, now looking uncertain as to whether or not he should continue his thought.

At this point, Elrohir was mystified. What was bothering the young man? “Estel...?”

“I just...I was just thinking about how different you are now from when I found you,” he finally blurted out. He was looking down at his feet, but glanced up to see Elrohir’s reaction. The young elf still had rarely brought up his time in captivity and the family had adopted an unspoken rule to not question him about it. Aragorn didn’t want to be the cause of making his brother face unwanted memories and certainly wanted to do nothing that might bring back his brother’s despondency.

Indeed, Elrohir was disturbed, but not by the memories. Rather, he was bothered that Estel seemed reluctant to speak to him. He had noted that there still seemed to be a sort of barrier between the two of them that even Estel’s talk in the infirmary hadn’t cleared and was worried about its cause. A troubling thought came to him, “Estel, did I do something when you found me? Did I hurt you somehow?” He only remembered bits and pieces of that time. Between the beating and the drugs, he couldn’t put a clear picture together of what happened or how his brother managed to rescue him, but hadn’t considered before that he might have injured his brother somehow.

Aragorn looked at Elrohir in surprise. “Nay! You did nothing to me. I...I am just wary of causing you distress by bringing up those memories.”

With an exasperated look that was pure Elrohir-of-old, the elf said firmly, “Little brother, we need to talk. Come. Let us find a quiet spot where no one will disturb us.”

Aragorn was torn. First, he was thrilled that Elrohir was treating him again with the brotherly closeness that he had seemed to reserve for Elladan until now. But second, he knew that they were expected to join their father and Elladan in greeting an arriving delegation of elves from Lothlorien. It was a rather low-key delegation, a passing group of warriors who were transiting through Rivendell’s boundaries. But it was an official function regardless and Elrond expected the whole family to be there to show support of the other realm’s warriors. Aragorn did not think they could simply not show up.

“Let me take care of that,” interrupted Elrohir and promptly did so as he stopped a passing servant and sent him off with a carefully-worded message to their father that he and Aragorn were not in any difficulty, but would be unable to attend the meeting. That taken care of, he took Aragorn by the arm and steered him toward a quiet room that was rarely used. Tucked away from any of the high-traffic areas, it was a room that he and Elladan as children had used innumerable times as a quiet little haven when they needed an escape. He, of course, had no memory of those times, but Elladan had brought him here several times already when things seemed overwhelming and he needed a quiet place away from the hustle and bustle of their busy home.

“Alright,” began Elrohir, after he closed the door. Looking at his brother with quiet concern, he continued, “Now, what is it that is troubling you? There is clearly something here I do not understand.”

“The only thing distressing me is that I do not understand your hesitation nor this tension between the two of us. I ask you again, did I do anything wrong…or perhaps mortally embarrassing when you found me? I confess I do not remember all events very clearly,” said the young elf.

Aragorn was surprised. He hadn’t really considered that Elrohir wouldn’t remember everything since his memory loss. He had kind of thought of it as a wall...no memories before a certain time...clear memories after.

“Of course,” answered Elrohir abruptly. “Not my favorite times to dwell on, but...” He paused, suddenly understanding a bit better his brother’s concern. “But, neither are they so troublesome that I cannot speak of them. Perhaps I have not discussed them much, but that is because I have so many things occupying my mind here that I choose not to focus on the past. Have you been deliberately not speaking of it?”

Elrohir gave his human brother a little smile. “I truly do not have problems voicing what I know of my past. I did not realize not speaking of it was causing others concern. Would it help if I did? Is there anything you wish to know?”

Aragorn looked at his brother, trying to gauge just how sincere his brother’s words were. Not that he thought Elrohir would lie to him, but perhaps that Elrohir might not fully understand what it would be like to discuss the dark things that had happened to him. Seeing only calm concern from his brother, however, he finally said, “Well...there was one thing that I’ve been rather curious about...”

With an apologetic grin, Aragorn continued, “It is actually something I was thinking about just now when I saw you checking your appearance in the mirror. Both now and before your disappearance, you were always quite neat in your appearance. And it is just that...well, you were so... um...pardon me if I’m blunt, but you were so filthy and disgusting when I found you. I do understand that as a slave you might be a bit scruffy, but you went beyond that. You were far dirtier even than the other slaves. Why did you not try to take care of yourself?”

Leave it to a little brother to ask that question! Elrohir gave him a wry grin. “Rather bad?”

The look he got back from Aragorn, who said nothing but appeared incredulous, answered that question. He laughed, “I gather that would be a ‘yes!’”

Elrohir took a seat in the window’s alcove as he decided how to tell his story. Sitting back against the wall and pulling his feet up onto the cushion, he rested an arm across his knees and looked at Aragorn, who had taken a seat in a nearby chair. How could he put into words the confused memories of those times?

“It is not a complicated story, Estel, but I hope you can bear with me as I try to remember the details,” said Elrohir.

He continued, “My earliest memories of my time with men are of the journey to the western lands where you found me. I had been taken--I know not how—by…others, and had been sold to these men. The journey was difficult, but is not really part of the story you asked about. You see, the men who brought me to those lands sold me to Lord Hebert and it is at that point that I can begin to answer your question.”

The young elf drug his hand through his hair, trying to sift through his patchy memories and also decide what he should say to his little brother.

He stared at the wall, unseeing, as he continued, “When I first arrived at the farm, I was put to work immediately in the fields. It was the peak harvest season in the autumn, so there was a great deal of work to be done. The days were long and the work tiring as I worked alongside the other slaves. It was a rather...confused time for me. I was coming to terms with the fact that I had no past memories and was a slave—and I, uh, didn’t seem to have the correct temperament to be a slave. They said I was too stubborn and thus found myself frequently in trouble.” Elrohir looked up at a sound from Aragorn and saw his brother grinning.

Pointing a finger at Aragorn, he warned, “No comments from you! I am not that stubborn!”

Rolling his eyes at the snort from his brother, Elrohir went on, “To continue, I eventually did realize that I needed to behave in order to survive, and so chose to work as hard as I could in order to make my life easier. I thought this would please everyone, but soon the others began to resent me as my stamina outlasted theirs. To make things worse, the overseer praised my labors and gave me extra rations as a reward. I had not known that my hard work would be rewarded thus, or I would have made more effort to not stand out from the others. At any rate, I did not know better, and after that my fellow slaves developed a great dislike of me. They said I was attempting to make them look bad and began to torment me by petty means...knocking my plate over, kicking dirt into my water, bumping into me, and so on. Nuisances, but nothing sinister. Then, however, the game became a bit darker.

Elrohir looked away from the wall for a moment, to see how his brother was taking the story so far. The young man had a small frown on his face, but clearly wanted to hear the rest.

With a deep breath, Elrohir continued his tale, “When I would not allow their pettiness to visibly affect me, several of them apparently decided to take things a step further. Nudges became shoves to the ground. Dirt in my water turned into no water when they spilt it instead. My food, they simply stole. After several days of this, I decided that I could not let this continue or perhaps escalate, so I chose to be direct with them and clearly establish my boundaries.”

Elrohir licked his dry lips as he continued his tale, lost back in the memories and no longer even thinking of what his brother’s reaction was, “One night in the barn, I questioned the main ringleaders as to their intentions.”

A surprised sound interrupted Elrohir’s story. Aragorn gasped, “You spoke?”

“Oh…aye,” Elrohir answered almost sheepishly. “It was never that I couldn’t speak, rather that I wouldn’t. In the very beginning I was exceedingly confused and thus kept silent. Later, it simply became my nature. Actually, it was the only time I spoke while there—this incident confirming in my mind that it was better to remain silent.”

With an apologetic shrug, he continued, “I suppose it was foolish to confront them, as I was far outnumbered. It was fortunate that we were allowed no weapons, or things may have turned out worse for me than they did, although I did not feel very fortunate at the time,” he said with a grimace, remembering.

His hands slowly clenched into fists as he relived the vicious fight, breaking through the thin stall walls, grabbing anything to be used as a weapon, feeling the blows as the men crowded him in a corner.

When several moments went by without Elrohir speaking, Aragorn asked, “Elrohir?”

Brought back to the present day, Elrohir forced himself to relax and gave his brother a small smile as he said, “My apologies, Estel. As you might guess, the result of my confrontation was a rather brutal fight. Surprisingly, in the end I was actually victorious—a testament to my training, no doubt, even though I did not know it at the time. Regardless, I subdued the lot of them, although I confess not without several nasty bruises of my own. The resulting beating I received from the overseer for fighting was worth it, however,” he added with a feral grin.

Ignoring for a moment the disturbing image of his brother being beaten, a puzzled Aragorn stated, “But...I don’t understand how this led to you being so unkempt.”

“I apologize. I have not made it clear,” answered Elrohir. “It is simple, really. After the fight, there was no more pretense of me fitting in with the other slaves. They were more determined than ever to put me in my place, as they were quite angered at being bested. They had been warned as well about fighting, so they knew that it was no longer an option unless they, too, wished to be beaten. So they found another way. The next time I went to clean myself, they came up behind me and shoved my head into the trough, trying to drown me. Our bathing facilities were rather isolated and without guards, so I was quite vulnerable there. Once again, I fought them, and so once again…ended up with a beating from the overseer. The others convinced him that I was the instigator, so they were not punished, of course. This pattern repeated itself several more times every time I went to bathe, no matter how careful I was. I was fortunate to escape each time, but it was now clear to me that I would not be allowed to clean myself without being attacked. And that, brother, is why you found me in the state that you did,” he finished lightly.

Aragorn was silent for a moment, almost regretting having asked the question. He was glad to have this time to share with his somewhat distant brother, but found himself quite angry on Elrohir’s behalf. “I am sorry,” he said in a small voice.

“Sorry?” asked a surprised Elrohir. “Estel, I told you it did not bother me to speak of this. All that happened is in the past.”

“Nay, I don’t mean that,” said Aragorn a bit louder. “I mean I am sorry I did not find you earlier...I am sorry you even had to go through that in the first place.”

He got up from his chair and approached Elrohir, who also stood up as he drew near. The young man’s eyes were clouded with pain for his brother. Pain at knowing that Elrohir had lightly glossed over many parts of the tale...his fear and confusion, the casually described beatings, the almost nonchalant mention of the attempted drownings, the dreadful aloneness he must have felt when he found himself an outcast even amongst his fellow slaves. Then Aragorn did something that he hadn’t done once since he had found his brother. He flung himself at Elrohir and enveloped him in the tightest hug he could manage. It was as if by holding him now, he could keep him safe forever and erase the times in the past when no one had been there for the young elf.

Elrohir tentatively returned the hug at first, wrapping his arms cautiously around his little brother, but then slowly tightening his arms as well. He was so grateful to this young man. For rescuing him in the first place, of course, but also for never ceasing to show that he cared, even when he had been at his most...difficult. His brother’s hug, so surprising because the young man hadn’t made such a familiar move before, made Elrohir realize suddenly how much he had been missing this closeness with him. And perhaps…maybe Estel didn’t realize how much he himself had grown to care for his little brother.

“Estel,” he said, pulling back so he could look in his brother’s face. “I am sorry as well. I am sorry that I am only saying this now and not before, but I want to tell you how grateful I am that you are my brother. I’ve never thanked you for what you have done for me, not only in terms of rescuing me from that dismal existence, but also for the way that you constantly supported me since. I...I know I have not been as open with you as I have with Elladan, and I only hope that you do not think that I do not love you as well. You have been, and are, a wonderful brother,” he finished with a loving smile.

Just like that, the doubts, hurts, and frustrations left the young ranger as if they never existed. At long last, the adored older brother that he had been missing for so long was standing right in front of him. Grinning back at Elrohir, he said the words that he, too, wished he had said much earlier, “You are a wonderful brother, as well, Elrohir. And…and…I love you too,” he finished just before enveloping his brother in another hug.

Some believe that all things happen for a reason and if that were true, they certainly would have had their proof the next day when a messenger arrived for Aragorn. It was Syndar, the ranger who was Hammond’s second-in-command. The rangers had found the missing travelers—not, incidentally, at Lord Hebert’s farm—and Hammond wanted his entire team available when they attempted a rescue. Aragorn at first was dismayed that he would have to leave just as he was regaining his place in Elrohir’s life, but then realized that the timing couldn’t have been better. He would have been terribly sad to leave his brother if they’d not had their close moments the day before, but now could accept with gratitude that someone had been watching out for them and had created the events that allowed them to find their way back together.

Aragorn was thus able to calmly tell his family at lunch that he’d have to be leaving with Syndar the following morning—news that they all greeted with sadness but understanding. Elrohir was possibly as healed as he’d ever be and Aragorn now needed to continue to build ties with the men that he some day was destined to lead.

Elrond and Elrohir both found quiet moments alone with him during the afternoon, saying their goodbyes in private. Elladan, however, was curiously missing and Aragorn was unable to find him until late that evening, sitting quietly in a tree just outside their home.

“Dan, where have you been?” asked Aragorn softly. “I have been searching for you for quite some time as I wish to say my farewells before I must leave.”

Elladan easily swung out of the tree and dropped silently to the ground beside his little brother. “I am sorry,” he apologized. “I know I should have found you earlier, but I am saddened by your leaving and did not know what to say.”

“Elladan,” exclaimed his brother in dismay, “surely you understand why I must go. You, more than anyone else have pounded into my head the need to responsibly fulfill one’s duties. Please do not be upset that I am leaving.”

The tall elf regarded his brother, as if truly looking at him for the first time. “You have certainly grown up,” he remarked with a sad smile. “Where is the little Estel that used to run into my room for protection during thunderstorms?”

“He is still here and will always love you,” answered the young man warmly. “But he learned to protect himself long ago and now must go out and find others in need of protection. It is what I must do if I am to find my place in this world.”

Elladan smiled resignedly at his little brother. Yes, it was his destiny to go off and become a man worthy of being a king, but that still didn’t mean that Elladan selfishly didn’t want to lose the comforting support of his brother. Aragorn had been a constant source of strength in keeping him grounded when Elrohir was at his most frustrating, and he was disturbed to think of going forward alone.

“I know you must go, but I...I just do not think I can deal with Elrohir alone if he has another setback,” he admitted finally, a great concession from one who always wanted his siblings to see him as invincible. His twin’s disappearance and subsequent difficult behavior had shaken the indomitable elf to the core, however, and he was upset to now be losing his main ally.

Touched that Elladan would share with him any sense of vulnerability, Aragorn was nevertheless matter-of-fact in his response, “I would have been loath myself to leave if I thought my presence were needed for Elrohir’s healing. But in truth, he is much, much improved. He seems happy and content, Dan. And we both know that the one he really needs here with him is you. You will do just fine without me. Besides, you have Ada and Glorfindel and Erestor, …and truthfully the entire rest of Rivendell to help you if necessary. You do not need me.”

“No?” asked Elladan with a raised eyebrow, making him look startlingly like his father. “You have not said anything and neither has Elrohir, but I am fairly certain that his great turn-around is a direct result of something you said after Ada so unceremoniously pulled me from the room. If not for you, I believe he would still be wrapped in the cloak of darkness that surrounded him before he fell.”

Aragorn secretly had been thrilled beyond belief when he had realized the great impact of his words on his brother, but had not shared his role in the drama with anyone else. It was something personal between him and Elrohir and to take it out and examine it would make it feel like he was looking for some kind of praise for his part. No, the result was all he had wanted. Thus, he tried to deflect Elladan’s thoughts with a joke, “Perhaps he simply hit his head when he fell and it knocked some sense into him.”

Elladan recognized his brother’s attempt to change the focus of their discussion, but accepted that Estel truly didn’t want to take credit for Elrohir’s recovery. Thus, half-teasing, half-serious, Elladan answered, “If I had known that falling down some stairs would have resulted in such a difference, I would have found a tall set of them and pushed him down myself weeks ago!”

“We all would have,” agreed Aragorn with a grin. Then, turning sober once more, he added, “Seriously, Dan, I have faith that you will be strong enough to take care of Elrohir no matter what happens. In the end, after all, it is you that he needs. All my life I have been awed by the close bond that the two of you share. Know that it will see you through whatever happens in the future.”

Once again surprised at the maturity of his little brother, Elladan smiled his thanks for Aragorn’s words of support. How he would miss this brother of his when he left! Still, he felt much better than before and the two of them walked in comfortable silence back to their rooms where they found Elrohir and their father helping pull together Aragorn’s supplies for his departure the next day.

After finishing packing up Aragorn’s things, the family spent the rest of the evening together, laughing and sharing good thoughts before going to bed. The next morning, they all woke up before the dawn and with well wishes, sent their youngest member off to his adventures.

The next few days passed quietly as the family adjusted to Aragorn’s absence. His departure certainly left a hole in the lives of his family, but other than missing their youngest member, they were as content as they had been in a long time. All were healthy and at last they felt assured that Elrohir was as well as he could be, considering he was still without his memories.

Indeed, the young elf continued to improve almost daily as he rediscovered more and more things that he could do. By now, only those who knew him very well could see much difference at all between the Elrohir of old and the one currently with them. In fact, there was just one major thing that those outside the family could still see as a sign that Elrohir was not quite back yet—he still would have nothing to do with horses.

It was a source of constant irritation to Elladan, who so dearly wanted his twin back in all ways and was frustrated that their activities were limited by Elrohir’s refusal to even consider riding a horse. Other than on foot, they could not go on patrols, could not go hunting, and could not even go visiting distant parts of Rivendell. He didn’t understand his brother’s positively obstinate attitude and carefully came up with a plan to force the issue.

One evening while the two brothers were sitting in their shared room, reading, Elladan casually mentioned that he was planning on joining a patrol that would be leaving in two days.

“No more than a few weeks,” answered Elladan almost smugly. “Part of our duties, you know, are to ride with the Imladris Guard. While I understand that you do not wish to accompany us, I feel I have a responsibility to go.” He just knew that his twin wouldn’t want to be separated from him and this would finally force him to confront his refusal to be around horses.

His plan was about to fall apart spectacularly, though. Elrohir did understand Elladan’s responsibility to the realm and found himself terribly unhappy at the thought of his twin’s departure. Since they’d been reunited in the forest months ago, they had not been apart for more than a few hours and he was surprised at how vulnerable the thought of his brother’s imminent departure made him feel. That feeling, however, still wasn’t enough to make him consider going with his twin.

Elladan rolled his eyes at his brother’s precise, but essentially meaningless good wishes. Those words could have been used with a perfect stranger! Trying to control his exasperation, he asked, “Ro, why don’t you just come with me? I should like your company and you would enjoy getting out for once.”

Angry at the manipulative way he was being pushed to do something that he was determined not to do, Elrohir answered his brother scowling, “I have said I will not ride a horse. Since you refuse to accept that, I wish to end this conversation.”

“No! Cease your pestering! If you wish to go, then go, but do not trouble me again on this issue!” the younger twin stated firmly.

Both irritated with each other, the twins spoke no more of Elladan’s departure the rest of the evening nor even the following day. In fact, they remained tense with each other up until it was time for Elladan to depart.

Thus it was a very concerned elder twin who had to decide what to do when it was time to leave. Elladan had been so sure that Elrohir would relent and come with him, but his plan hadn’t worked and now he was faced with either following through with his threat to leave his twin alone or backing down at the last minute, virtually ensuring that he’d never be able to trick Elrohir into riding with him another time. But remembering his vow to never again leave a loved one with things unresolved, Elladan was torn when it came time to meet up with the rest of the patrol and he still hadn’t patched things up with Elrohir. He debated simply pulling out of the patrol…they really hadn’t required his presence as he had only asked to join the patrol in order to force Elrohir to come as well. If it came down to leaving with things still unsettled between them, Elladan would, in the end, have chosen to stay. But at the last moment, his twin raced down to the courtyard and the two were able to exchange a brief, but caring farewell.

Elladan mounted his horse and cantered up to the rest of the patrol, conscience relieved and still determined to go if only to convince Elrohir that next the time he should come as well. His absence would teach that stubborn twin of his a valuable lesson! However, as Elladan started to ride off, he made the mistake of turning around. Seeing his twin standing there, all alone, was too much for him. His brother’s face was expressionless, but the eyes…the eyes were sad as his twin abandoned him and Elladan just couldn’t do it. With a quick explanation to the patrol’s captain, Elladan pulled out of the line and rode back to his brother, dismounting before he got too close, conceding at last his twin’s desire to keep far away from any horse.

A groomsman took away Elladan’s horse as he wordlessly joined his brother. At Elrohir’s questioning look, the elder twin stared off into the sky a moment before answering the unspoken question, “I find that I cannot leave you just yet, brother. I was foolish to try to force you to go, as I do not have the heart to be separated from you. I just…I just wish you would reconsider,” he finished sadly.

Elrohir regarded his brother and then grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto a small bench next to a fountain. It seemed that it was time to do some explaining of his own.

The younger twin started out hesitantly, “Elladan, I am sorry. I know what you were trying to do and I appreciate that it was only to help me. And I know you do not understand my…stubborn refusal to go, but in truth I do not understand the entire issue myself. I do not know where my antipathy toward horses comes from, but I do know that I feel great anger when I am near them. I do not fear them, but instead feel a great sense of…of betrayal. I…I believe it has to do with how I was taken. I know no details and have no memories to support that premise, but I do trust my feelings on this. Perhaps I should have explained earlier, but I have only just now started to fully understand what it is I feel when I am around them. I…I do hope you will understand why I cannot do as you ask, even though I do not wish to disappoint you further,” he finished up forlornly.

Elladan looked down at his hands, which he had clasped together tightly as he listened to his twin. One more piece of the puzzle added. Horses? Somehow horses were involved in his disappearance? If that was the case, he could understand his brother’s reluctance to be anywhere near them. It would explain a lot, even though it explained nothing as all the details were missing. Still, it was enough, and as if shrugging off a mantle, Elladan finally decided to let go of his determination to get Elrohir on a horse.

“I am disappointed,” Elladan responded, “but not with you. I cannot like that we are limited in what we can share together, because there will come a time when I shall be forced to go somewhere on a horse and will thus be forced to leave you behind. And that, dear brother, as you could see today, is something that I will find very hard to do. But we will face that when we must, and in the meantime, I promise to try harder to understand and will not push you to do anything else until you are ready.”

At that, the brothers shared a smile of reluctant understanding, knowing that neither was really pleased with the situation, but would both make the best of it and wouldn’t allow anything like this to come between them again in the future.

Elladan was true to his promise and showed only support to Elrohir after their conversation and didn’t push him to do anything new. Honestly, there was little other than riding that Elrohir couldn’t now do. There was one thing left that no one had mentioned, though. It was only a few weeks after Aragorn’s departure that Elrohir convinced himself it was time to face one of his final challenges.

One evening after a quiet meal with his family, the young elf excused himself early and then made his way directly to his room. After making sure that no one else was around, he closed the door tightly and resolutely walked over to the far corner where he stopped abruptly. There, still sitting on the corner shelf, were the harp and flute that he’d been avoiding ever since his initial review of the room months ago. So many times their mere presence had mocked him as they reminded him of his inability to remember anything, but tonight they no longer seemed the sinister reminders that they had earlier—tonight they seemed to be beckoning him with their potential.

Still, Elrohir hesitated before picking one of them up. He didn’t know why this was so important to him, but somehow he felt that failure tonight would be an indicator of how the rest of his life would go. Dare he take the chance that he would not be able to play either instrument? After a deep breath, he gathered his courage and without allowing further thought, quickly picked up the harp.

He carried it over to his favorite seat—the one in the window—cradling it carefully as he walked. It didn’t quite feel natural in his arms and he wondered for a moment if he should have chosen the flute instead, but his instincts said to pick up the harp, so he accepted that this was the instrument he should try to play. He sat down on the edge of the seat and holding his breath, gently ran his fingers over the strings. He easily recognized that the notes were flat and without pause, quickly tuned the lovely instrument.

Once each string had been brought up to perfect pitch, he tried again to run his fingers up the harp. The sweet tones brought a lump to his throat as they touched something deep within him. Suddenly filled with an overwhelming need to create music, Elrohir closed his eyes, hoping that if he didn’t try to hard to think about it, the ability would come to him.

Tentatively, the young elf began playing a simple tune, his right hand picking out the melody while the left filled in with chords. He blew out his breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding…yes, this was at least familiar. But what about something more complicated? Still trying hard not to think of what he was doing, Elrohir let his fingers remember their centuries of practice and before he knew it, the song resonating from the harp became more and more complex. Faster and faster his fingers flew as he gained more and more confidence with each passing minute.

So focused was he on his playing that Elrohir didn’t hear a soft tap followed by his door opening. Drawn to his room by the hauntingly beautiful tones that the closed door couldn’t completely conceal, Elladan had heard his brother and had summoned Elrond, who had been in a conference with Glorfindel and Erestor. All three of them had accompanied Elladan back to the twins’ rooms as they all were interested in Elrohir’s venture back into the world of music. They quietly filed in and took seats around the room while the young elf played unknowingly to this small audience, his eyes still closed as he allowed himself to be lost in the music.

Never in his life could Elrohir remember feeling so content as the mesmerizing tones flowed from his fingers. The song filled his soul like a magic balm, soothing away the lingering pain that had lurked there ever since his ordeal began. He would have been happy to stay in that moment forever as he coaxed ever more beautiful sounds from his instrument.

His audience sat in enthralled silence as they watched him in wonder. Never before had Elrohir so completely poured himself into his music and none of them wanted to be the one to break the spell he was casting over them all.

After awhile, however, Elladan stood up and silently walked over to the corner where the silver flute was still resting. He looked at it for moment and then nodded, as if coming to a decision, and picked up the little instrument. It was actually his, not Elrohir’s, and had been left in the room the last time the twins had practiced their music together. It had been just days before Elrohir had left on his ill-fated trip and Elladan had never been able to bring himself to touch the flute since. Somehow, leaving it in his brother’s room next to the harp had seemed like a promise that the two of them would be reunited—a small symbol of his belief that they would someday share their music again. He had made a silent vow to himself that he would not allow himself the joy of creating music until he could do it with his twin, and now at last he felt released from that vow and was able to finally pick up the little flute. He smiled as he grasped the familiar instrument and carried it over to the window seat where Elrohir was playing.

The younger twin was still unaware that anyone else was even in the room until he heard the first few notes of a flute weave into his song. Still with his eyes closed, he smiled lightly as he concentrated on his playing—this was how it should be. He knew without looking that it was his twin whose music joined his own and he subtly changed his playing to accommodate him. Allowing the flute to pick up the melody, he used the harp to fill in the harmony and background, giving the music a richness that neither instrument could capture alone. In that moment, a complete peace settled over him and it reflected in the music that he and Elladan shared with their enchanted audience.

The twins continued their impromptu recital for an unknown amount of time, no one in the room even conscious of its passing. At last, however, they began to tire and Elladan wove the query “are you ready to stop?” into his music. Not even aware that he had instinctively heard and processed the question, Elrohir answered a “yes” through his own playing and at the end of the next measure, the twins stopped as one.

As the final notes faded, Elrohir opened his eyes and was unsurprised to find himself looking directly at his twin. The two began to grin at each other in perfect unison, unconsciously creating mirror images in their joy. He reached over to Elladan and grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying through his touch to express just how much he loved his twin.

A quiet voice interrupted them. “That was simply lovely, boys,” said their father quietly. “I have sorely missed hearing you play.”

Elrohir turned his head at the sound, noting for the first time that he and Elladan had had an audience. He looked at them all and then back at Elladan. With the exception of Estel, all the people he loved most in the world were here in this room and he was so grateful that they were here to share this perfect moment with him. He knew that he had made life difficult and painful for them all, not only during the past months here in Rivendell but also during the preceding years when he’d been lost. But these wonderful people had supported him, loved him, and had never given up hope for him through all the hard times. He felt so blessed.

Slowly, the young elf began to smile—the Elrohir smile of old that could light up a room with its brilliance. It was the kind of smile that could fill one with joy simply to see it. A smile that had been missing for well over three years, but now showed the onlookers that Elrohir, their Elrohir, had finally returned.

One by one, Elrohir looked at each person in the room, giving a small prayer of thanks for each one of them. Then he returned his gaze to his father. “Ada,” he said, the love he felt for them all shining bright in his eyes, “I believe that, at last, I have truly come home.”

A/N: I seem to have confused folks with this chapter when I posted it on ff.net. Several people thought that the story was over since there is a lot of closure in this chapter. Anyway, no…this is not the end of the story. Elrohir has found a sense of peace, true, but there are still some things to work out (like his memory loss!) before the story is done.

“NO! How could you?!” The angry shout echoed through the hallways of Lord Elrond’s home, spoiling the peace of the afternoon. It was fortunate for those involved, Elrond himself and Elladan, that they were in the family quarters, for at this time of day there were none around to hear their suddenly heated discussion. What had started as a pleasant conversation regarding Elrohir’s progress had escalated into a full-blown argument when Elrond had rather calmly announced that he had sent for Galadriel to help Elrohir find his memories and that she’d be arriving the next day.

“He has been doing so well. He is happy now…how could you do this?!” Elladan shouted as he stormed over to the window, desperately trying to reign in his fury at this father. Unsuccessful, he whirled around and faced his father, continuing harshly, “By what right do you do this?!”

Elrond scowled deeply. He understood Elladan’s concern for his twin, but this was going a bit too far. “By what right?” he questioned almost incredulously. “I am Elrohir’s father...not to mention lord of this realm. Not only do I have the right, but also the duty to make such a decision. I must do what I believe is best for your brother, regardless of your opinion, Elladan. And in this instance, I believe that Elrohir’s best chance to recover his memories is with the help of your grandmother. And furthermore, youngling,” he added, pointing a finger at his son, “I advise you to take better care with your words before you push me too far. They border on insolence.”

Normally any kind of rebuke from Elrond, especially one as direct as this, would cause his children to immediately rethink their positions and guard their words, but not this time. This time, the topic was Elrohir and when it came to his twin, Elladan was willing to take on anyone and anything to keep his brother safe, even if that meant their father.

Still, he at least tried to keep his tone respectful as he explained to his father, “Adar, if this were anyone else I would agree--as lord and healer you should decide what is best. And even…even with Arwen or Estel I would also agree, but...but this is Elrohir!” The elder twin clenched his fists as he added, “You should have consulted me. He is mine!”

Startled into amusement at the incredible possessiveness that Elladan displayed towards his twin, Elrond smiled as he clarified, “Yours? I rather thought he belonged to himself. But if it came to that, as his father I believe he is at least a little bit mine.” When Elladan only glared at him at these words, Elrond continued, “My son, I know what it is to have a twin and fear for his well-being, but I am Elrohir’s father and will be the one to make any decision on how to aid his recovery.”

Oh why couldn’t his father understand?! After all, he had had a twin as well! Elladan continued to glare as he explained with irritation, “Of course, I did not mean ‘mine’ in the sense of ownership, Adar. I meant…well, I meant that he is…mine…I mean, part of me…I mean…” he huffed in frustration as he realized that words were not conveying what he felt. “Ada, it is just...” Elladan shook his head, desperate to make his father see things clearly. “It is just...I...I cannot risk losing him,” he finally finished, willing his father to understand.

Elrond looked lovingly at his upset son as he tried to come up with the right words to make him understand. Yes, Elrond certainly did know the desperate fear of losing a twin, so he was careful to make his voice much more understanding as he said, “Elladan, Galadriel is your brother’s best hope for regaining his memories. You know it has been many months since his return and there is nothing more I can do for him. I would have thought that you, above all others, would have wanted this chance for him.”

Elladan gazed at his father unhappily as he answered, “Aye...in truth, I would give everything to have him back with his memories. Everything that is, except Elrohir himself. I fear that if this goes wrong, we may lose him entirely. For now, he is at least happy. Adar, I cannot risk losing him!” he repeated almost frantically.

Elrond was sympathetic to his son’s fears, but he also knew that Elladan’s closeness to his twin in this case was clouding his judgment. “Elladan, your brother deserves this chance to be completely healed. I, too, worry for him, but I believe if given the choice, it is what he would choose.”

“Then why not put it to the test?” the young elf countered. “Why not ask him? Why did you arrange all this without our knowledge?”

“It is what Galadriel herself instructed,” Elrond explained patiently. “If this is to work, Elrohir must have no foreknowledge of her plans.”

Elladan was well aware of the strange rules that his grandmother sometimes imposed when she worked, but that made it no easier to accept when all his instincts were telling him to grab his twin and take him far away before she arrived. And as for that...

“So why are you only telling me all this now, when she is arriving tomorrow. Why would you keep this from me before now? You must have known of these plans for quite awhile if the party arrives tomorrow,” said Elladan accusingly.

Elrond smiled grimly as he answered, “Because I did not believe you would react calmly to this decision—and it appears that my belief was correct. Furthermore, I did not want your resulting bad mood to affect Elrohir’s current mood or somehow allow him to be forewarned. Your grandmother was clear in her instructions that Elrohir is to have no prior knowledge of what she will attempt. No preconceptions that will hinder the process of searching for and regaining his memories. This is too important to allow even the slightest bit of irritation on your part to warn your brother that something is amiss.”

“Yes, but Elrohir is good at reading you. If you are upset, he will know,” countered his father.

Elladan mentally conceded that point and then suddenly sat down on the couch as if deflated. It was clear that nothing he could say was going to sway his father, especially if Galadriel’s party was arriving tomorrow. With one last little feeble wisp of defiance, though, he asked smugly, “And how will you keep Elrohir from knowing tomorrow that something is going on? It will be impossible for him to not see any of the preparations prior to the party’s arrival. He will know something is happening.”

The grin on Elrond’s face should have warned him of the answer, “Well, my son, that will be your job...”

It was in their sitting room several hours later that Elrohir found his twin when he returned from working in the infirmary. Since he still would have nothing to do with horses, his ability to contribute to the realm was rather limited in many ways, so he made a point of helping out in the healing chambers any chance he could. This meant that most afternoons were spent there with Nindal when he was not needed for other things. He found great pleasure in helping others and his assistance had certainly come in handy today when several young elves had been injured in a training accident. That left him, however, quite weary and glad to be done for the day.

Elrohir entered the inviting room, rubbing the back of his neck in fatigue and thinking of a nice, hot bath before dinner when he was surprised to see Elladan slumped down in one of the large chairs. The older twin was holding a book but obviously not reading. Tense and stiff, every line in his body bespoke of his agitation.

“Elladan, what has happened?” asked his brother, fatigue forgotten in his concern.

Elladan sat up abruptly and regarded his twin with chagrin. So much for his insistence that he’d be able to keep his concerns from Elrohir.

He tried to deflect his brother with a too-casual, “Nothing has happened. I am...just tired. I have had a long day and am merely fatigued.”

“Really, it is nothing,” Elladan insisted. “Do not be troubled,” he added, but then spoiled it by sighing deeply.

The younger twin regarded his brother for another moment and then dropped down into another chair and asked sympathetically, “Missing Estel?”

Elladan felt almost guilty at how grateful he was for the excuse Elrohir had unexpectedly handed him. He nodded quietly and then looked away, his guilt lessened at least a bit by the fact that he really did miss their little brother. He simply missed being with the young man, of course, but he also could have used a sympathetic ear with whom to discuss his concerns about Galadriel’s plans.

Still, Elrohir’s comments had opened up an opportunity for him to arrange for the next day’s ‘distraction.’ Since Elrond had informed him that it would be his job to keep Elrohir from seeing either the preparations or the arrival of Arwen and their grandparents, he had been trying to come up with a good plan that would take the two of them away for most of the day. And now, the excuse of ‘missing Estel’ would play nicely into his plans.

“Aye,” he said, mentally asking Estel for forgiveness for using his absence to trick their brother, “His absence does sadden me. But…perhaps I could be distracted from my gloom with an outing. I have been considering a trip to the North Falls for some time, but it is rather far away and would take a fair piece of the day to go and come back. Would you be interested in joining me there tomorrow?”

Elrohir hesitated a moment before answering. Elladan had told him of the falls many times—it had long been a special spot for the twins, but they hadn’t gone there yet since it was at the far end of the valley and they usually would have ridden there. Was Elladan trying to force him to get on a horse again?

His brother’s next words reassured him on that account, “We would have to set off just past dawn, as it will be a long walk, but I assure you it would be worth the trip. Please say yes—I would dearly like to reacquaint you with one of our favorite places.”

The hopeful look on Elladan’s face convinced Elrohir as nothing else would. He would have agreed to most anything to please his brother and so without further thought, he readily agreed to meet up with him and spend the day at the falls.

The next day turned out to be perfect for a picnic, dawning crisp and clear. The twins met up at first light and after a short stop in the kitchens to pick up the small feast that Lomelia had packed for them, they set off for the long walk.

At first, Elladan had to pretend to be in a good mood. He just had a bad feeling about this whole situation with Galadriel and couldn’t shake it. He had started the night before to think of ways to thwart his father and grandmother’s plans and remained subdued and distracted for the first part of their journey. After awhile, though, in the face of Elrohir’s obvious joy at the chance for an outing with just the two of them and his ensuing lighthearted chatter, Elladan couldn’t remain gloomy and eventually decided just to enjoy this day with his twin and think about his plans of sabotage later.

On the long walk, the brothers had hours in which to talk. They talked about nothing and everything, wherever the conversation took them. Laughter and lightness permeated their time together, so by the time they reached the falls, they were both in high spirits, buoyed up by each other’s presence as well as the breathtaking beauty of their surroundings. Indeed, the North Falls was a glorious place! Surrounded on three sides by cliffs, a small stream of water plunged over the high-up edge and fell so far that it turned into mist before being caught by a rocky outcropping, where it formed another small pool. It continued down from there as a glistening waterfall, merrily splashing into a crystal-clear pool at the base of the cliff.

The brothers unpacked their lunch and placed the skins of juice in the water to cool while they leaned back against the rocks as they soaked in the perfect tranquility of the place. The soothing sounds of the waterfall, small birds chirping, and even the buzzing of insects lulled them into a feeling of perfect harmony as they sat together. Wordlessly, they each lost themselves in deep thoughts until Elladan caught Elrohir staring at him, smiling.

But the response was not a lighthearted jest. Elrohir’s smile widened as he stated simply, “I am happy, Elladan. I never expected to be, but I am. All this…” he gestured with his hands, trying to encompass all of Rivendell in his sweeping motion, “…all this is so much more than I could have ever hoped for or imagined. I…I cannot thank you enough, you and Estel, for finding me and bringing me here.”

Elladan smiled back at his twin. “I am so glad,” he said quietly. “But you need not thank us. I would do anything to bring you happiness and I know Estel would as well. We are only grateful to have found you.”

Elrohir glanced back at his brother and then ducked his head, almost embarrassed. Somehow, content as he was, he still couldn’t completely accept that he was worthy of the love that these wonderful people gave him without reservation. He therefore protested, “But you have done so much for me, and I do not feel that I could ever reciprocate. I…I must let you know that I am so thankful for your assistance, your counsel, your companionship…your caring. It overwhelms me at times and…I just thought you should know that I appreciate all you are to me.”

Touched almost beyond ability to respond, Elladan nonetheless was able to say quietly, “Elrohir, will you never understand what you are to me? There is no need for thanks between the two of us, truly. If it is my power, I will always do what I can to make you happy.”

Elrohir looked away for a moment, happy but discomfited...he really hadn’t meant for his comment to lead to a deep, meaningful conversation. He had only wanted to share his happiness with his twin. So, trying to bring things back to being a bit more relaxed, he grinned and then asked, “You haven’t told me much about this place, yet, Dan. You mentioned that we had been here many times before. Did anything interesting ever happen?”

Elladan knew exactly what Elrohir was doing, but accepted the lightening of the mood and grinned as he thought of the countless stories he could tell—this spot had been the site of many games of make-believe when the twins had been young and there were countless little tales of their adventures…and misadventures…connected with the place. Settling on some of the more memorable times, he was recounting his third story—one of a particularly interesting afternoon when the twins had tried to climb up to the upper-level pool—when he noticed a somewhat melancholy look flit across Elrohir’s face.

Elrohir shook his head, sorry that he stopped his brother’s story. “I am sorry. Please continue. How did we get down from the pool?” he asked.

But Elladan was disturbed by the sad look he’d seen on his twin’s face and asked again, “Ro...what has distressed you? Did I say something?”

The younger twin merely said again, “Really, it is nothing. Can you finish the story? How were we able to get back down?”

“Uhm…we managed to climb down,” Elladan answered distractedly. “Now I will not be diverted, Elrohir. Why were you looking sad just now?” he pressed.

Elrohir grimaced. He definitely needed to guard his expressions better! He didn’t want anything to spoil this lovely day. He answered a bit impatiently, “It is nothing, I said. I was merely reflecting on how much fun we must have had and I was just…just wishing I could remember some of it…that is all.”

Elladan sighed and then asked quietly, “Do you wish for your memories back, then?”

The look he received from his twin answered him even before he spoke. “How could you even ask?!” Elrohir asked incredulously. “I would give most anything to regain my past.”

“But you just said you are happy now,” countered Elladan, wishing that his brother would be content as he was. If not...then maybe his father had been right and Elrohir should be given the chance for Galadriel to help him. And he wasn’t prepared to give Elrohir that chance!

“Aye,” agreed Elrohir, “I am happy, but that does not mean that I wouldn’t give much to be able to remember.”

Elladan regarded Elrohir rather impatiently, not ready to give up, “Why do you wish to remember, Ro? Things are going so well now. Is it not enough that we are able to build new memories?”

Elrohir was a bit astonished at Elladan’s attitude. Inexplicably, he seemed to wish for him to remain as he was—without his memories. Elrohir answered earnestly, trying to get his brother to understand, “New memories are wonderful, but do not take the place of the old. Elladan, you cannot realize what it is to have lost part of yourself.”

He was surprised when Elladan laughed humorlessly in disbelief, and then smiled softly at his twin in understanding before he continued. “Dan, you are able to tell me countless stories of our lives together, but to me they are as if they happened to someone else. It saddens me to know I had such a wonderful past and yet it will never be anything to me but tales. But even separate from that, did you ever stop to think that I have lost all my friends. Slowly I am starting to get to know our people again, but in truth most remain as strangers. And our sister...and grandparents? What of them? I could come face to face with them and not know them. My own kin. And what of others who have died or gone to the Undying Lands? How many people are there to whom I owe friendship that I do not even recall existed? Estel’s father, for instance. Or fellow warriors who died and should be remembered for their valor and courage. Or...or what of our mother? Can you not understand how it hurts to know that I will never even remember her face? I will never remember her tucking me in at night or picking me up when I’d fallen or greeting me as I came home. She is nothing to me except a name...and...and an idea of what I would wish for in a mother. It is not enough, Dan. I wish to know her again. Her and all the others whom I loved.”

While Elrohir was talking, Elladan reflected with silent pride on how remarkable his twin was. Simply put, he had forgotten--his clever brother had worked so hard and now fit in so nicely at home, that he had forgotten just how much Elrohir had lost. In the face of that, how could he, now that he was reminded so poignantly of Elrohir’s loss, deny him any opportunity to try to regain it?

Elladan nodded, coming to a decision in his mind. He’d been on the brink of ruining Galadriel’s plans and by telling Elrohir of them, but now he knew that he couldn’t. He had to give his brother this chance to remember, even if it came with risk.

His eyes held just a bit of sadness as he smiled at Elrohir and said, “You are right, Ro. You deserve any chance you could get to regain your memories. I hope you find them some day.”

Elrohir felt that he had somehow missed part of the conversation. Clearly Elladan felt badly about something, but for the life of him he didn’t know what! But, determined not to let anything ruin what up to now had been a perfect day, Elrohir turned on his charm full-force and managed to pull his brother from his unhappy mood and before long, the two were once again talking about their long-ago adventures.

They downed the delicious luncheon that Lomelia had packed for them and after a short swim in the pool, started back on the long walk towards home.

While the twins were enjoying their picnic, Elrond was watching the arrival of his long-awaited guests. He was standing on his balcony as he viewed the distant party coming down the path towards his home with mixed feelings. He dearly hoped that Galadriel would be able to help Elrohir, but Elladan’s words from the day before were haunting him. His son had been right...Elrohir was happy now. What if things went badly and Elrohir was driven back into that deep depression? Or what if his memories were returned and they turned out to be so horrible that he’d wished he’d never remembered? Galadriel had assured him that nothing could go wrong, but when it came to his children, Elrond could never stop worrying.

Putting aside those doubts for now, though, he left his balcony and arrived at the gates to greet his visitors as the first of the horses rode up. Even if he’d wanted to, Elrond couldn’t have kept the bright smile from his face as he saw his daughter leap off her horse and run over to him. It had been so long since he’d seen her and the mutual delight at their reunion was apparent to all as she flew into his arms.

He held her tight for a moment before drawing back so he could look at her. “You are as beautiful as ever,” he said lovingly as he kissed her forehead. “How I have missed you, daughter,” he added before giving her another quick hug.

“I have missed you, too, Ada,” she answered from the comfort of her father’s arms. Then she pulled back so she could see her father’s eyes as she asked, “Ada, in truth, how is Elrohir? I have been so worried for him and fear that you may have kept bad news from us when you sent your messages.”

“Fear not,” answered Elrond with a smile, grateful that his news was good. “He is doing wonderfully…truly. I admit for awhile I was gravely worried as Elrohir was quite despondent for a time, but that is all in the past and he is now very much like his old self.”

Arwen nodded, “I cannot imagine how Elrohir’s disappearance must have hurt him and have worried for him as well.”

Elrond understood her concerns completely as he’d had the same ones himself, but once again he was pleased to be able to tell her, “Elladan is also well. Once Elrohir was found, even without his memories, I no longer had any fears for his twin.”

“I cannot wait to see them both,” Arwen said with a smile. “But Elrohir…he will not know me, will he?”

Elrond shook his head and answered, “Nay, but do not let it disturb you. He did not know Elladan, either, and now they are inseparable.”

Arwen smiled. Yes, that is how she always saw her brothers, as an inseparable pair and she was glad to know that they were together again.

Elrond continued, “In fact, they are off together as we speak on another of their small adventures out at the North Falls—a picnic this time.”

Arwen, who had accompanied her brothers there many times over the years, grinned in remembrance as she asked, “A picnic, Ada? Today?”

Elrond confirmed, “Aye…per your grandmother’s directions, Elrohir was not to have any hint of your arrival, so Elladan chose a picnic to keep him occupied today and away from any preparations for your coming. And speaking of your grandmother…”

Elrond turned from his daughter to Celeborn and Galadriel, who had also dismounted and were waiting patiently for him to finish his reunion with his daughter. “Welcome,” he said to them as he clasped their arms warmly in greeting. They were as imposing as ever, but he would forever see them as the adoring parents of his beloved wife and the loving grandparents of his children. He was comforted that they dearly loved the twins and Arwen and thus was certain that Galadriel would do all she could to help Elrohir. Just seeing her standing there, calm in her power, washed away all the doubts that had been raised by his earlier talk with Elladan.

“Come,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “We can speak on the way inside, for I am certain you would like to freshen up after your long journey.”

The small party walked up the stairs to the house, although Elrond paused a moment as Galadriel placed a hand on his arm and said, “Elrond, I was so pleased that you called for my help with Elrohir. I have worried greatly for his well-being and am grateful for the chance to assist…how does he fare?”

Just as he’d told Arwen, Elrond repeated, “He is doing wonderfully, Lady Galadriel. He is content now…at peace with himself. If it were not for the odd occasion when he fails to remember someone or something, we would never know anything was amiss.”

Galadriel gave him a serene smile as they continued their walk into the house and nodded, “Then all is well and he is ready for me. I am pleased.”

Elrond responded a bit gravely, “Yes, I felt the time was right for your arrival. Forgive me for not calling you earlier, but it is only recently that I felt his soul was sufficiently calm for your work. I understand you wish to begin immediately. Is there anything you require in way of preparation?”

Galadriel considered briefly and then said, “I require naught but a pool. A still, quiet pool that I may use as a mirror of his past. In it, he will be able to watch the events that led to his memory loss—the sight should allow him to find his hidden memories if that is his desire.”

“I know of the perfect pool for your use,” stated Elrond. “Arwen can give you directions to the East Willow Pool.” He paused briefly before asking, “Lady Galadriel, I must ask one thing…is there any danger?” Galadriel’s very presence filled him with confidence in her abilities, but he felt he owed it to Elladan and his concerns to at least ask the question.

“You do know that any use of power invites risk,” chided Galadriel. “But I do not foresee any great dangers. As long as I maintain a connection with Elrohir, I will be able to end his connection with the past should it become too distressful.”

Elrond nodded his understanding and with that, the talk turned to simple pleasantries during the rest of the walk to the rooms he’d had prepared for his visitors.

Arwen went to her own chambers while Galadriel and Celeborn disappeared into their room to freshen up. Within a short time, the small group had finished their ministrations and they all met in the family’s gathering room to await the twin’s return.

It was only a short while later that Galadriel stood quietly looking at her much-loved grandson. Elladan and he had returned just a few minutes ago and had left him in his room with a promise that he would see him shortly. While waiting, the younger twin was taking a few minutes to reflect on the lovely day he’d had with Elladan. His brother had seemed somewhat distracted, especially near the end of their walk, but regardless of that, Elrohir had had a wonderful day that he knew he’d treasure always. Now, he sat on the ledge of his balcony, overlooking the peaceful valley below him with his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees, lost in serene thoughts. He looked so happy that Galadriel didn’t want to disturb him. She would have been content to watch him for hours and would have done so, except that something penetrated Elrohir’s awareness. Something that told him he was no longer alone.

The young elf raised his chin and found himself suddenly looking at one of the most beautiful elf maidens he’d ever seen. No...to call her a maiden was somehow wrong. She was ageless as all elves, but her eyes held a wisdom that told him that she had seen many countless millennia. He stood respectfully as she started forward. He was mildly annoyed that a strange elf had been allowed to enter his private quarters unannounced, but he was too polite to show any irritation.

The smile that graced the elven woman’s face was at once kind and amused. “Dear little one,” she said, “just allowing me to look again upon your face is all I need from you. It brings me more joy than I can describe to see you back where you belong.”

Elrohir couldn’t help raising one eyebrow at her response. Well!...she apparently was not a stranger who had lost her way in the labyrinth of halls.

Before Elrohir could think of a suitable reply, however, she reached out a hand and said, “Come, let us leave behind these binding walls and walk in the gardens.”

Her reason for seeking him out was no clearer than before and she still hadn’t said who she was, but a bemused Elrohir, sensing no ill will, allowed himself to take the hand of the beautiful elf and be led out of his home and into the gardens. The two walked in silence until they came to a quiet glade in which stood a still, clear pool.

The two elves sat down on a stone bench by the pool and drank in the peace of the place.

Elrohir looked at his companion questioningly. He’d been very patient so far, but he was beginning to be quite curious as to who this person was and what she wanted. His first question was answered, though, before he could even voice it.

“Son of my child, although it is clear I am not familiar to you, know that I have loved you from long before you were born. Know this, so you can be sure that nothing I do here will harm you. There is no place for fears,” she said, taking both of his hands in hers.

‘Son of my child?’ he thought in amazement. This glorious elf was his grandmother?! Galadriel?! Someone might have warned him that she was coming. Quickly, however, he moved past that thought as he latched on to the second part of her statement. Why was she warning him that nothing that happened would hurt him? What was she going to do? He opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly shook her head.

“Shhh, child,” she said. “You must say nothing yet. I have brought you here, to this place, to search for your lost memories and guide them back to your conscious thoughts.”

Elrohir’s heart started beating fast as he listened to the lady’s words. She could do that? She could make him remember? She had told him not to speak, but he needed answers. He gazed deeply into her eyes, desperate to see if there was anything there that could show him that she was telling the truth. The eyes were kind, wise, inviting trust and Elrohir found himself falling deeper into them. But there was power there that he hadn’t seen, and before he could pull away, he was unexpectedly trapped in a dazed confusion, not unlike the fog-like existence he’d lived in for so long while drugged.

His surroundings were shrouded as he felt his mind floating in a mist. From a distance, he heard her voice telling him to gaze into the pool and without the ability to deny that voice anything, he followed her direction and turned toward the still water.

Elrohir started in surprise as he looked at the pool. No longer reflecting the canopy of trees, it seemed like a bottomless well of darkness as he gazed into it. He felt himself drawn forward and then he was falling, falling into the endless black. At the last moment, he was pulled back by the strong hands still holding onto his.

“Not so fast, my impatient one,” said the voice. “We must explore this realm slowly.”

Colors started swirling around and around in the pool and Elrohir blinked as he fought a nauseating dizziness. He really hated feeling out of control like this. He clung on to the firm grasp of the hands on his, as it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He was sure if they let him go that he’d be swallowed up by the massive swirl of colors and he’d be lost forever.

Elrohir stared into the pool, not sure what to tell the voice. He could only see colors swirling in a maddeningly erratic pattern. “There is...nothing...colors,” he said hesitantly.

“The pool holds your past,” the voice coached. “Look deeper and find what you have lost.”

The young elf leaned forward, trying to obey the voice, but still seeing nothing tangible. He concentrated on the very center of the swirling vortex, and at last an image started to form. “It...I see...there is something,” he said breathlessly. “Something in the center.”

“Reach out, dear one, and embrace the memory. It is trying to come to you,” said the voice coaxingly.

Elrohir swallowed hard. The thing was growing larger. Suddenly he did not like this at all. He did not want to ‘embrace’ whatever was coming out of the pool. It frightened him. It was...it was... “It is an elf,” he noted in bewilderment. Why would an elf scare him?

Galadriel could see what he saw and smiled, “He is coming to aid you in your search, Elrohir. Reach out to him. Take his hand and he will guide you.”

Elrohir started to panic as he felt one of her hands letting go, freeing him to reach out to the shadowy image of the elf. It was growing larger. He did not want to get closer to it! He tried to find the missing hand to save him as he felt a growing terror. But a sharp voice admonished him, “Elrohir! The fears of your past are keeping you from finding it—trust me when I tell you nothing here will harm you. Now be stout of heart and reach into the pool.”

No matter what else anyone thought of Lord Elrond’s second son, he was no coward. Brutally pushing aside the instincts that told him to stay far away from the elf in the pool, Elrohir reached out a tentative hand toward the semi-transparent image and leaned forward to touch it.

As soon as his hand touched the other, however, the image coalesced into a solid form—one that suddenly grinned wickedly, grabbed onto his outstretched hand, and yanked him hard. Horror filled the younger twin as he felt the second sustaining hand of Galadrial being ripped from him and he fell into a swirling nightmare.

Shocked as he desperately tried to adjust to a new reality, Elrohir felt himself being thrown from the back of a screaming horse—when had he mounted a horse?—and then choked back a scream of his own as the flailing hooves of the frantic beast slammed into his back. Curled on the ground in breathless agony, he saw an elf, the one who’d pulled him into the pool, suddenly before him. Without warning, a look of pure hatred came over the other’s face and Elrohir felt a boot kick him hard in the face before he could even try to get to his feet. Dazed, he felt himself being pulled up and then thrown into the arms of someone else—another elf. What was happening!? Where was he!? Why had the horse attacked him? Who were these elves? Why did they kick him? Oh, his back hurt! Elrohir gasped as a small dagger raked across his chest as his cloak was cut from him and flung aside. The elf holding him dug his fingers into Elrohir’s shoulders while the first one removed Elrohir’s weapons. Weapons? Where did they come from? Roughly his arms were lashed behind him by yet another elf. There were more? There were at least three of them now. WHAT WAS HAPPENING? No! He couldn’t see! They had blindfolded him! His feet were kicked out from beneath him and he slammed into the ground while harsh laughs spoke of his captors’ amusement at his predicament. He tried to get up, but halfway there, a hand to the back of his head shoved his face down into the dirt. Trying again to get up, he was instantly knocked down when his legs were swept out from under him. Again he tried to get up, only to be sent once more to the ground. Finally, he decided to stay down. A whip landed across his shoulders! And again! He was obviously not playing correctly. Staggering to his feet, he was knocked down to the jeers and taunts of the brutal elves, over and over. If he didn’t get up, he was mercilessly whipped until he crawled to his feet. Countless times...how long could he go on?! Blindfolded, he never knew which direction the blow would come from that would send him off his feet. They’ve stopped! Were they done? A momentary respite was all Elrohir had before the eternal nightmare continued in a different form. His world shrank to one of endless torture as his tormenters found a new game. Tossed from one to the next, each one would whip him, beat him, kick him, and then throw him on only when they had made him cry out, laughing as if playing with a toy. Hands on him, grabbing at him, catching him. Still blindfolded, he never knew what was coming next. He only knew that hands upon him meant imminent pain. Each time he was touched it was followed by more torment. He could no longer bear it—head to toe there was only agony—he had to get away! He suddenly thought of his twin, desperately wishing he were here now to help him understand what was happening. Oh why would elves be doing this to him? As well, why had the beautiful lady sent him to this evil realm? She had said nothing would harm him—she had lied! She had led him to his doom! Why was this happening? Why?! More kicks, more whips, a knife in the side. His mind couldn’t process any more. It was too much! There was only hopelessness in this pool...unrelenting agony! He needed...he needed...“DAN!!!” he screamed. Startled by his scream, the elf just about to catch him missed and instead of landing in his arms, Elrohir drove head-first into a rock wall, white lightning exploding through his skull as his temple connected with the sharp rock. Pain, despair, darkness...and then Elrohir knew no more.

In the meantime, Elladan was waiting in the family’s gathering room along with the other members of his family. After leaving Elrohir in their rooms, he had gone there to greet his sister and grandparents and then had reluctantly stayed while Galadriel left to find Elrohir. She had instructed them to wait for her while she tried to help Elrohir find his memories and after a stern look from his father, Elladan had agreed to stay there. The older twin didn’t like the fact that Elrohir wouldn’t be warned about what was going to happen, but Galadriel insisted that it was necessary, since he needed to come to the pool without preconceptions that would shield his thoughts, hiding his memories.

The minutes went by slowly and Elladan grew more and more restless as his nerves grew taut. His family tried to engage him in light conversation, but he ignored them all. Despite his decision to go along with this, he did NOT like it. He paced the length of the room, pausing only to look off the balcony into the gardens below. He should have snuck out so he could watch over his brother. He should have insisted that he be allowed to stand by in case he was needed. He should....a sudden sense of dread washed over him as he felt, rather than heard, his name being screamed by his twin and he felt a shadow of agonizing pain rush through his body. It was gone in an instant, but it told him that his brother needed him NOW. Without waiting to explain and before anyone else in the room could stop him, he dashed to the balcony of the sitting room and leapt into the nearby trees, disappearing before any of his astonished family had even left their chairs.

Elladan practically flew through the branches, unerringly guided to where he could feel his brother’s presence. He dropped out of the trees into the glade near a small pool that he and Elrohir had called their “Frog Pond” for the many frogs they’d befriended there over the years. Those happy memories were nowhere near his thoughts, though, as he took in the scene on the ground. Galadriel was on her knees sitting next to Elrohir, who was soaking wet and curled up in a tight ball. She looked up in sorrow as Elladan fell to his knees beside them and harshly demanded, “What happened?” Then, not waiting for an answer, he turned to his brother and tried to find whatever wound had caused him the intense pain that had been radiated through their connection.

If Elladan had been looking at Galadriel, he would have been astonished to see the great Lady of the Woods looking shaken. She had not misjudged a situation so badly in the memory of most elves, and she was left in a sick daze at what had just transpired. She tried to pull herself together as she regarded her grandsons, one now gently trying to coax the other into relaxing from the tight ball he’d formed. The fact that it was someone she loved curled up in pain because of her made her guilt that much worse. And she had promised him no harm would come to him!

Rapid footsteps marked the arrival of the rest of the family, Elrond followed closely behind by Arwen, and Celeborn. As one, they seem to slide to a stop, trying to determine what had taken place in the peaceful glade.

Elladan was on his knees, trying unsuccessfully to rouse his twin while Galadriel was sitting on the ground next to them. Both she and Elrohir were soaked, so it was obvious that they had both been in the pool.

“Galadriel, what happened?” gasped Elrond as he took in the scene. When she made no move to reply, he snapped louder, “What happened?!”

The shaken lady finally looked up as Celeborn knelt beside her and put his arm around his wife’s trembling shoulders. “Oh, Elrond. I am so grieved by what I have done,” she said quietly.

Elrond dropped down beside his sons as he joined Elladan in his search for Elrohir’s injuries. Finding none he was more confused than ever. It was clear that his son had suffered tremendously, but he could find no wounds, so he asked her anxiously, “What? What is it that you have done that has grieved you?”

When Galadriel didn’t answer, Elrond drew himself up angrily. Just what had she done to Elrohir?

Recognizing the look on her father’s face as one that bode ill for her grandmother, Arwen chose at that moment to intervene, “Ada, perhaps we should get Elrohir inside where he would be more comfortable. Answers should wait until he is cared for.”

Elrond was no fool and realized that his daughter was trying to shield her grandmother, but quite honestly he didn’t feel much like fighting with Galadriel and Celeborn at the moment. His only real concern was Elrohir, who in truth would be more comfortable in dry clothes and in a bed. Thus, conceding to Arwen’s wishes, he nodded and said, “Very well, we will first bring Elrohir inside and see to his needs.”

He reached down to pick up his child, but was shocked by an almost feral snarl as Elladan shoved him aside. “I will carry him,” the young elf growled. Then, belying the harshness in his tone, Elladan was gentleness personified as he tenderly picked up his brother and headed toward the house.

Elladan carried his twin through the gardens and to the house followed closely by the rest of the family. Elrohir was a tall, strong elf, but Elladan never faltered, his arms not feeling the burden of his brother’s weight even once as he carried him home. He spoke to no one as he walked, his attention focused only on taking his twin somewhere where he could be cared for. Once he reached the front hall, however, he hesitated briefly as he considered where to take Elrohir, to their rooms or the infirmary. His father’s soft hand on his back steered him toward the infirmary and so it was there that he took Elrohir.

Once inside, Elrond led the way into one of the back rooms, a private area where Elrohir could be tended to without anyone disturbing them. Elladan carefully placed his twin on the bed, looking for any sign of movement as he laid him down. Nothing. There was no sign of life in the now limp, bedraggled, wet elf other than a light rise and fall of his chest as he breathed softly.

Elladan sat numbly in the chair that someone placed beside him, not even noting the gesture as his single-minded focus remained on his twin. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt somebody. He wanted...he wanted his brother to wake up and laugh at him for worrying so much! Just a few short hours ago that is exactly what had happened...Elladan was fussing about something during their walk home and Elrohir had teased him about being such a worrier. Things had been so...normal. And now...oh why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t he have listened to his inner voice that warned him of the danger to Elrohir? He had ignored it and now Elrohir was paying the cost. He had failed him!

It was only when Elrond began stripping the wet clothes from Elrohir that Elladan was pulled from his shock and finally began to take note of his surroundings. He was surprised to find that Elrond had shooed the others out of the room and the three of them were left alone. Wordlessly, they pulled the wet clothes off of Elrohir and within a short time, had dressed him in dry, comfortable clothes and covered him warmly with a blanket. Other than his closed eyes and wet hair, the young elf looked as he was only sleeping, but his fearful family wondered if it was a sleep from which he would never awaken.

The silence of the room began to grow ominous as neither Elrond nor Elladan spoke. While they had been working, the silence had been acceptable, but now that there was nothing left to do, the quiet of the room became quite uncomfortable as neither said anything. Elladan was simply too distraught to speak, while Elrond was afraid that anything he said would cause his obviously upset son to explode in anger. He hadn’t forgotten Elladan’s opposition to this plan and was afraid that it was only a matter of time before the elder twin allowed his rage to overpower him.

Fortunately, before the silence could become hostile, the door opened and the rest of the family reentered. Obviously, Galadriel had gone to change, for she was now wearing dry clothes as well. The three quietly walked over to the bed and gazed down upon Elrohir, lying there without moving.

“Elrohir is comfortable for the moment,” Elrond announced to the full room, startling everyone as his words broke the uncomfortable silence. He continued as he turned to Galadriel, “Now, Lady, in order to begin any healing, I must understand what took place by the pool. You must tell me everything.” His tone, while not disrespectful, was much more harsh than he usually used with the Lady Galadriel.

She turned her gaze from Elrohir, at whom she’d been staring since they entered the room. The face she showed to her son-in-law was a mixture of sorrow and guilt, not the usual poised, serene countenance of the Lady of the Woods. Elrond, despite his fear for Elrohir and anger at one who had caused harm to his child, found himself surprisingly feeling sorry for her. She was clearly distraught over what had happened.

The look he gave her was thus softer as she began to speak, “Elrond, what transpired was both unexpected and tragic. You must know that I would never have allowed my dear grandson injury if I had but seen how to prevent it.”

With a glance at the still, pale figure, Galadriel continued, “I will tell you what I know.” She sighed deeply, not a normal sound from the usually tranquil elf, and began, “The memories which I sought to unlock were buried far deeper than I had believed, trapped not only by injury, but reinforced by a great sense of betrayal. The force needed to break through the block ripped him from my hands and threw him down into the pool of remembrance, back into the memories as a participant rather than an observer. He was forced to relive the events that led to his memory loss, and that is why he is as you see him now.”

Elrond didn’t like the sound of this. If whatever Elrohir had endured the first time had led him to completely lose his identity, he didn’t like to think what effect it might have on his son a second time. Certain that he didn’t want to hear more, but knowing that he must, he said, “Continue.”

Galadriel glanced up at Elrond and then turned her gaze once more onto Elrohir as she tried to put into words the images she’d seen. Her silence lasted too long, however, and Elrond was forced to prompt her to speak.

“Galadriel,” said Elrond, once again stern. “I must know the details if I am to heal him.”

“It broke my heart to watch,” she finally said sadly. “And although I did try to stop it before the damage was done, I was too late. When Elrohir was drawn into the pool, I followed and pulled him out as quickly as possible, but the damage was done in a heartbeat. He relived too much in just the short time he was in the pool--what he endured was brutal.” She paused a moment before she continued. “Even to speak of it will cause pain. I do not fear this pain for myself, but for others, Elrond.” She glanced pointedly at Elladan, who was sitting at his brother’s side, holding his hand and speaking softly in his ear.

Elrond nodded, understanding that the Lady feared Elladan’s reaction when he heard of his brother’s torment. However, he still knew that he had to know everything if he was to heal his son. “I understand your concern,” he said, “but for the last time, I MUST hear everything.”

Grimly, Galadriel nodded, “Very well. I could not hear what transpired as I could only watch what happened, thus I do not understand all that I saw, but I will explain as best as I can. What I was able to see was...disturbing. There were those who were making a game of...of hurting him.”

She faltered as she saw with her perfect memory how the elves had torturously amused themselves. After a deep breath, she continued, “He was thrown from the horse he was riding, hit by its hooves, and then viciously kicked before he could even arise. Next, his attackers bound and blindfolded him and placed him inside a circle, knocking him to the ground again and again, whipping him when he did not arise fast enough. When he finally could arise no more, they tired of that game and began a new one. One would hold him helpless while another would try to make him cry out. One at a time they did this, throwing him on to the next only after they had made him reveal his pain. My grandson is strong and stubborn, but eventually he could no longer bear the agony. Knives, clubs, fists, whips, even rocks...they used what they could to try to break him and make him cry out.”

Galadriel once again paused as the vision overwhelmed her. She had seen much of hatred and brutality in her life, but when the subject of that brutality was someone she loved, even her famous composure couldn’t protect her. As powerful as she was, she was helpless to aid those dear to her. It hurt as much to see her grandson’s pain as it had when the one being tortured had been her beloved daughter. A lone tear trickled down her cheek as Elrohir’s torment reminded her again of the loss of her daughter.

“I do not wish to go on,” she whispered. “It is enough to know that they were brutal, cruel, and he suffered tremendously before finally striking his head and losing consciousness. Combined with the torture, the blow was enough to cause him to hide himself deeply within his subconscious.”

Elrond nodded abruptly. He, too, was feeling the helpless rage of one with great power who was still unable to protect his loved ones and did not wish to hear any more. The thought of his child in the hands of those who would torture him for pleasure! Still, she had left out one vital piece of information, one more thing he had to know… “Galadriel, who was it who did this to him?”

For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer, but finally, she whispered, “It was elves, Elrond. Elves did this. I do not know who they were or from whence they came, but they were elves.”

The room was suddenly deathly silent at her words. None had expected what she had just revealed. Elves?! Not orcs, or dwarves, or even men…but elves?! Their own kind had done this to Elrohir?

Elrond looked in shocked silence at his son. Who amongst their kind would dare to attack his son? And why? Sick at the thought, he pushed aside that unwelcome puzzle for the moment, deciding instead to focus on healing his child. At least now he knew what he was facing. He wasn’t the greatest healer in all of Middle Earth for nothing...he would find a way to reach his son!

These optimistic thoughts were crushed, however, as Galadriel continued reluctantly.

“Elrond, one last thing. Before he fell unconscious today, I could sense that he had run far back into the recesses of his mind. Farther back than the first time. He left none of himself...nothing that could be hurt...nothing that would have to face his nightmare reality...nothing of his soul. I fear that he will not be reached easily...if at all.”

A whimper of protest from the bed drew everyone’s attention from Galadriel’s disturbing words. Elladan had not been looking at his grandmother, but instead had been staring intently at his brother’s face as he listened to her recitation. He had pictured the scene in his mind’s eye. He knew his twin would have been thinking of him while he was hurt, scared. Had it been then that Elrohir called out for him? Had he despaired when there was no answer? And now he was gone. That which made Elrohir, Elrohir, even without his memories, was gone! The ache grew in Elladan’s heart until he could no longer bear it and unknowingly gripped his brother’s hand tighter and tighter. When it was nearly crushing Elrohir’s hand, the pain penetrated the younger twin’s unconsciousness and had caused him to cry out weakly.

Instantly aware of what he was doing, Elladan dropped his hand and sprang back. He would not hurt his brother further! Helpless rage suffused his body. If those responsible for his injuries had been in the room, he would have ripped them apart with his bare hands, so great was his wrath! Glancing about wildly, he saw no one upon whom to vent his anger, so grabbed up an innocent little vase and threw it against the wall, rewarded when it smashed into a million pieces! He reached for something else, he knew not what, and it followed the vase, its destruction once more satisfying, yet not enough. Two more of the room’s decorations met their doom as they also were flung to the wall. Wild in his grief and fury, he looked around for his next victim, but was stopped by his father, who took him firmly by the shoulders.

“Elladan, be at peace,” said Elrond in an urgent voice that penetrated the younger elf’s grief. “I know the pain you feel for not being able to help your brother in the past. But you, above anyone else, can help him now. You must calm down so we can try to reach him.”

“No!...” Elladan tried to pull away from his father. Words...they were just words. Elrohir was lost to them, he knew it. He couldn’t do this! He didn’t have the strength to watch his twin like this. Even without his memories, Elrohir’s presence had still been enough to make him feel complete. Simply being with his beloved twin had healed the aching hole in his heart that had been eating at him the whole while Elrohir had been lost. And now...now Elladan was terrified at what going through the same trauma twice had done to his brother. If even Galadriel couldn’t sense his soul, Elladan was certain his brother would not be able to find his way home again. He wanted to scream, so great was his anguish!

A call from Arwen, however, drew Elladan away from his despairing thoughts, “Elladan! Please...it’s Elrohir!”

The oldest sibling looked over at his sister. She had gone to Elrohir’s side when Elladan had begun smashing things. While everyone else had been distracted by the older twin’s rampage, she had seen the effect it was having on her other brother. The noise had obviously disturbed the younger twin and he had begun to shift restlessly. His agitated moves, however, were growing more and more violent and he had begun to fight in earnest. The young elf maiden was having difficulty keeping him from falling off the bed and knew that if anyone could penetrate his hidden dream world, it would be his twin.

His brother’s need doused Elladan’s rage with cold reality. Instantly back at Elrohir’s side, he knelt down and restrained his brother with a strong arm over his chest. He murmured low, quiet words in his brother’s ear, speaking in the ‘twin’ language that they hadn’t used since toddlers. Although not used for many centuries, he had never forgotten it and he hoped that somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind, his brother wouldn’t have either. This was a unique language that only the two of them knew. He was sure that if Elrohir could hear it and recognize it, he would know that the one speaking it to him had to be his brother and he was safe.

Continuing his words of comfort, Elladan held on tight to his twin as Elrohir continued to thrash about wildly. Then, against even his expectations, Elladan’s attempt to calm his twin suddenly worked. With a final soft cry, Elrohir fell limp and soon was lying again quietly.

The silence of the room was unsettling after the great disturbance. Smashed glass and ceramic lay all about the floor. A wild-eyed Elladan was staring at his twin. Arwen, with a dark bruise forming on her cheek where Elrohir’s elbow had unexpectedly caught her, stood unsteadily by her brothers. Galadriel and Celeborn stood in arm-in-arm in grief-stricken silence. And Elrond leaned shakily against the wall and buried his face in his hands in his despair. How could things have gone so wrong so fast?

Hours later, the room was equally silent. All were gone now except Elrohir and his ever-present sentry, Elladan. Elrohir had shown absolutely no other response to anything since his reaction to Elladan’s tirade and after many hours of trying to wake him, Elrond had conceded defeat for the night and had sent everyone to bed. All, of course, except for Elladan, who refused to leave his brother’s side for even a moment.

It was now the early hours of the morning and the whole of Rivendell was asleep, even Elladan, who had finally, exhausted, laid his head down upon his arms as he kept his quiet vigil over his twin.

It was the barest whisper of a sound that woke Elladan from this much-needed rest. That was all it took, for even asleep, Elladan was aware of the need to guard his brother. It took a moment, however, for him to wake up enough to grasp the fact that Elrohir was no longer laying in the bed in front of him. He jumped to his feet, instantly alert as the reality hit him...Elrohir must have woken up! Hearing a sound behind him, he eagerly started to turn to greet his twin. Before he had barely started, however, a hard object slammed into the back of his skull and he crashed to the floor. As his senses faded, he only had the strength to whisper, “No...Elrohir...” as he reached out to the pair of feet heading away from him...and then all was dark.

Before he could even fully process the words that rang out in his head, Elrond sat up in alarm, instantly wide awake. The voice in his mind, easily recognizable as Galadriel’s, was at once urgent and concerned--he didn’t even her next message to know that the twins were in trouble.

Elrond didn’t even pause to pull on a robe as he tore out of his bedchamber, barefoot and dressed only in his sleeping clothes. As he ran full-speed through the quiet house, his heart raced—not from the sudden exertion, but from a father’s fear for his children.

The doorways flew by as Elrond ran through the dark hall, cursing himself for leaving his sons in the first place. He had thought that Elrohir would sleep through the night and would be safe in Elladan’s care. Oh why had he left them?! From the corner of his eye, he saw another figure join him in his flight and drew comfort from the knowledge that he would have help with whatever faced him in the infirmary.

When he reached the healing chambers, the outer door stood open, but the inner door to the room where he’d left his sons was tightly closed. He yanked it open and rushed in, desperate to reach Elladan and Elrohir before anything could befall them.

“No!” he breathed as he saw the empty bed and a dark-haired elf lying sprawled on the floor. He was too late.

A hurried glance around the room convinced him of what he already knew to be true—only the one twin on the floor remained while the other was gone. Focusing his attention on the son before him, he realized without much difficulty that it was Elladan. The clothes were an obvious clue, of course, but this twin also had a certain ‘Elladanish’ look to him—one that Elrond could never define, but nonetheless just ‘something’ that told him that the son on the floor was his eldest.

The healer in him had already found the lump on the back of Elladan’s head when he finally realized who it was that had been running with him in the halls. It was Glorfindel who had run into the room, quickly sized up the situation, and then fallen to his knees next to Elrond.

“What happened?” the golden warrior asked in hushed tones, his concern for the twins clear in his voice.

Elrond shook his head, not really knowing himself, and instead said, “Help me place him on the bed.”

The two gently lifted Elladan, Glorfindel taking his legs while Elrond took his head and shoulders. When the young elf was comfortably lying on the bed that his twin had vacated just a short while ago, Elrond began a more thorough exam and was pleased to note that the bump on his head—one that wasn’t too serious—was Elladan’s only injury.

“Shall I begin a search for Elrohir?” asked Glorfindel, anxious to start looking for the missing elf.

Elrond gently placed his hands on either side of Elladan’s face and closed his eyes, concentrating as he forced his healing powers into his son. He seemed to be focused entirely on the healing, but was aware enough to answer Glorfindel’s question with a murmured, “Hold a moment. Elladan is not far from waking...he may be able to help guide our search.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Elladan began to move restlessly and moaned softly. Gentle coaxing from his father drew him out of the darkness and within moments, Elladan opened his eyes and looked around the room, his gaze finally locking on his father’s.

“Ada...” he said with alarm as he remembered what had transpired just a short while ago.

“Shhh...I am right here,” answered Elrond and then put a hand on Elladan’s chest as the younger elf tried to sit up. “Lie still,” he ordered gently.

“Nay, Ada, I am fine. But Elrohir...” Elladan began, but his words were cut off by a wince as he struggled against his father’s hand and forced his way up.

When he was sitting up, the younger elf held his forehead with one hand but said in a stronger voice, “Ada, you must find Elrohir. He is…in trouble.”

Elrond supported his son with a hand on his arm and said with some trepidation, “Explain.”

Elladan grimaced as he recalled the events, “I watched Elrohir for hours after you left, but he never moved, so I thought it would be safe for me to rest my head for just a moment. I...I must have fallen asleep, for when I awoke, I found Elrohir out of his bed. He…he struck me down and then...walked away,” he finished softly, hurt more by his brother leaving him than the injury itself.

“Elrohir did this to you?” asked Elrond in shock. Obviously Elladan was right when he said that Elrohir was ‘in trouble.’ Never would the elven lord have imagined that one of the twins would attack the other and then leave him lying injured on the floor!

Elladan nodded briefly, grimacing when it jarred his aching head, but then added, “Aye, so you see that we must hasten to find him. He is not thinking clearly and could come to harm as he does not know friend from foe.”

“Did Elrohir say anything at all to indicate where he might be going?” asked Glorfindel, who up to that point had been silently listening.

Elladan remembered not to shake his head, and answered, “Nay, he said nothing. Please Glorfindel, go find him.”

A quick nod from Elrond confirmed the request and the warrior ran out of the room to organize a search party for the missing elf.

When he was gone, Elrond turned his attention back to Elladan, who brushed off his father’s ministrations impatiently. “Ada, it is just a small bump. No time to bother with me now—we must find Elrohir quickly before he comes to further harm.”

The best thing for Elladan physically would have been to lay down and take a soothing draught to dull the pain and allow healing, but Elrond knew that neither of the twins would ever rest while his brother was missing, and so he quelled his healer’s instincts and instead helped his son off the bed. After ensuring that Elladan was steady on his feet, the two left the infirmary and joined the awakening household to search for their missing loved one.

The hours passed slowly that day. By dawn’s first light the whole of Imladris had been awakened and nearly every elf, including many of the children, was involved in the search for their once-again missing prince. The searchers checked every room. They looked behind each bush. They left no cubbyhole unexplored. By late that evening, however, they finally had to accept that they wouldn’t be finding Elrohir right away. Somehow, he’d managed to pull off another disappearing act and had once again vanished without a trace. It was therefore a weary, frustrated, dispirited group that met back in the family quarters just before the evening meal. None were actually hungry, but they sat down to dinner anyway, knowing that neglecting their own health would not help their search for Elrohir.

Elladan, whose headache had at last faded to just a dull nuisance after an earlier Elrond-imposed rest, sat quietly at the end of the table as the others discussed their efforts to locate his twin. After his initial enthusiasm for the search, the young elf had become more and more withdrawn as the day progressed and no sign was found of his brother. Now he sat staring out the window, seemingly uninterested in the rest of the family’s discussions until a sound cut through his preoccupation. It was soft sobbing that drew his attention and as he looked for the source, he noted the rest of the family looking worriedly at his sister.

“I never even got a chance to speak to him,” the distraught Arwen was crying. “We stayed away as you requested while he adjusted to life here, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I could see him, talk to him, let him come to know me and see me as a sister. But now...”

Elrond gathered his sobbing daughter in his arms while Celeborn and Galadriel looked on sadly. Arwen was giving voice to the pain that everyone was feeling over the disastrous turn of events, and none knew how to make things better.

It was times like this that Elladan usually excelled. Even though he was only moments older than Elrohir, he took his role as Elrond’s eldest quite seriously and had always tried to protect and care for his younger siblings. In that role, he always seemed to know just the right thing to say to make them feel better, but this time things were different. Arwen’s distress—indeed the distress of everyone in the family—paled in comparison to what he was feeling and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything to help. In fact, Arwen’s audible anguish was only adding to his own and he soon found he couldn’t bear another moment of it.

Pushing his chair back, Elladan stood abruptly and without word, rushed out of the dining room’s open doors onto the balcony beyond. His startled family, with the exception of Arwen, who had buried her head in her father’s shoulder, looked after him with concern.

Elrond, torn, sighed deeply as he continued to hold his daughter. It was at times like this that he most acutely felt the loss of his adored wife. There just wasn’t enough of him to go around when two of his children desperately needed him. Nay…make that three, not forgetting Elrohir’s obvious need as well.

After hearing the deep sigh, Celeborn, seeing Elrond’s dilemma, stood and said smoothly, “Stay with Arwen, Elrond. I will see to Elladan.”

Matching his words with action, Celeborn then joined Elladan out on the balcony, not saying anything right away, but standing beside his young grandson in a quiet show of support.

Elladan leaned heavily on the balcony wall and stared intently at the valley below, as if through force of will alone he could discover where his twin was hiding. Celeborn, after studying his grandson carefully, allowed his gaze to follow Elladan’s and was soon sifting through possibilities of Elrohir’s whereabouts as well. The two remained thus for awhile, each lost in his own thoughts.

After long, silent minutes, though, Elladan said in a voice made cold with suppressed emotion, “You know he is really gone this time.”

Celeborn contemplated his response. Galadriel had told him of her own belief that Elrohir was now lost—not just his body, but his inner spirit as well. Even if they found the missing elf, she held little hope that he’d ever be the same again since she’d sensed him burying himself in the deepest reaches of his being. However, Galadriel’s concerns were not what Elladan needed to hear just now. In his long life, Celeborn had learned time and again that hope and belief were a powerful force and could, upon occasion, snatch a miracle out of the clutches of certain disaster. So with that in mind, he said with conviction, “Elrohir will not remain hidden forever. We will find him.”

Still staring at the valley below, Elladan answered tersely, “Perhaps, but that will make no difference. He will still be lost to us, as surely as he is now.”

Celeborn put a comforting hand on Elladan’s shoulder, which was brusquely shrugged off. Stifling a sigh, the older elf dropped his hand and said as soothingly as he could without sounding patronizing, “As long as he is alive, there is hope for him. You saw him return to us once before. There is nothing to say he cannot again.”

Elladan wanted nothing more than to tell his well-meaning grandfather to take his ‘comforting’ thoughts and go away, but he forced himself to answer as politely as he was capable of at the moment, “He was hurt terribly, not once but twice. He would be a fool to risk it again and Elrohir was never a fool. He has no reason to come back.”

“He would come back for you,” countered Celeborn, trying to keep Elladan from giving in to despair.

The wise older elf miscalculated, though, not fully understanding the source of Elladan’s pain. He meant to soothe Elladan, but instead went right to the heart of the young elf’s torment. Celeborn soon learned his mistake, however, when his grandson turned to him with fire in his eyes.

Angrily Elladan hissed, “I am the last person he would wish to see! Did you not hear what happened? He struck me down and then walked out! Do not think to tell me that Elrohir is thinking kind thoughts of me! He knows that I failed to protect him and plainly despises me!”

Blinking with shock, Celeborn suddenly felt out of his depth and wished that he’d volunteered to stay with Arwen and instead let Elrond come outside to deal with his son. Pushing aside useless wishes, however, he said strongly, “Young one, that is the most ridiculous thing I have heard in many a year. Elrohir suffered a grievous injury. One that perhaps is not visible, but one that nevertheless affected his thinking. The only thing I see ‘plainly’ is that he would never purposely strike you and then leave you lying on the floor. It is not within Elrohir to knowingly hurt you. It was only his injury speaking. And now this misplaced guilt of yours will not help him. You must put aside these thoughts and help us discover where he might be hiding.”

Scowling, Elladan drew breath as if to shout back his response to Celeborn, but before any harsh words left his mouth, the young elf seemed to reconsider and after a visible effort to control himself, he nodded quietly and said, “Aye, you are right. I am sorry...I let my concern for Elrohir overwhelm me for a moment. Clearly our thoughts must go to finding Elrohir. Perhaps...perhaps we should rejoin the others now and discuss tomorrow’s plans.”

Grateful for Elladan’s quick change of heart and glad to feel that he had somehow helped, Celeborn smiled encouragingly and the two left the balcony to join the rest of the family and eat dinner.

It wasn’t until hours later when Elladan finally was alone in his room that his firm mask of self-control slipped again. He was pleased at how well he’d played his part during the rest of dinner, participating fully in the strategy planning session and even offering several good ideas of his own. Yes...he’d managed to seem like the concerned brother, and as far as he knew, hadn’t let anyone see his true feelings. He knew that his twin was gone forever and he knew that it was his fault. It was that simple. The most important person in the world to him was gone—and he had no hope of ever getting him back—and he was to blame—and he hated himself for it. And the very last thing he wanted was for someone to try to convince him otherwise with an encouraging talk, forcing him to completely lose self-control and say or do things that he’d regret forever. He’d almost slipped earlier with his grandfather and was glad that he’d learned his lesson on just how tentative was his control over his emotions. No...he would have to be much more careful if he wanted to keep others from trying to cheer him up!

He hadn’t actually been planning on letting down his wall of self-control even in the privacy of his room, but unfortunately fate played an unkind trick on him. As he was preparing for bed, Elladan walked passed his wardrobe, which had been left open earlier in the day when he had dashed in to put on fresh clothes. What he hadn’t expected was the impact simply seeing his own reflection would have on him. As he walked past the door, his bone-weary mind caught a glimpse of his image in the mirror and for just a split second, he imagined that it was not a reflection, but in fact his twin standing there in his room, by his side as always.

That was all he needed. The realization that his other half would never again be by his side was more than he could bear. Climbing into bed without even thinking of what he was doing, he lay there breathing hard as he tried to control himself, without success. Within seconds, the strong, resilient, confident young lord and warrior was reduced to a heartbroken elfling, who curled up and buried his face in his arms. He felt that he would die from heartache right then and there.

He didn’t know how long he stayed that way, lost in his grief and able to do nothing but berate himself for his responsibility for the tragedy. He knew Elrohir would be endangered from his grandmother’s efforts, but had let her continue anyway. Why hadn’t he been strong enough to stop her from trying? If nothing else, he could have hidden Elrohir somewhere or spoiled things by telling him about her plans. But no...he had done nothing! And had he been standing by in case he was needed? No...he had stupidly followed instructions and stayed in the family quarters instead of watching over Elrohir. He had known better! He should have been there the instant things had gone wrong, but it had been left to Galadriel to pull Elrohir from the pool and she had not acted quickly enough. And then...how could he have fallen asleep when he should have been keeping watch? It didn’t matter that his father said Elrohir would surely sleep through the night. He should have known better and stayed awake. Yes, it was all is fault. Elrohir was gone and he was the only one to blame! Oh, how he hated himself!

It was a shame that Elrohir wasn’t there, because he would have been able to tell his twin just how destructive these kinds of thoughts could be, having recently worked through similar feelings of self-loathing himself. But of course, the younger twin wasn’t around to impart any kind of sage, brotherly advice, so Elladan was forced to deal with hours of self-recrimination until he finally drifted into a troubled, fitful sleep.

The family and Elrond’s key advisors spent the following days coordinating the search for Elrohir and regrouping in the evenings to discuss their progress over dinner. Each of them played a key part in the hunt: Celeborn and Galadriel were responsible for communicating with outside allies, Glorfindel rode out with the warriors daily and coordinated their efforts in the woods surrounding the valley, Arwen was in charge of the searches within Rivendell itself, and Erestor took over the daily administration of Rivendell to free up Elrond to mastermind the entire effort.

That left only one who didn’t have a key role in the search: Elladan. He had arisen the morning after his troubled sleep once again in control of himself, but now as distant and hard-to-reach as his twin had been before his fall down the stairs. Elrond noted the similarities between Elladan’s current behavior and Elrohir’s earlier behavior with a mixture of frustration and despair. He really didn’t have time to deal with another disturbed son right now!

So, Elladan was allowed to go about Rivendell doing as he pleased and not participating in the formal search. He spent his days riding about the valley, purportedly checking out possible hiding places, while rejecting any attempts to give him a leadership role in the hunt, refusing to join in any of the organized search parties.

Elrond allowed Elladan’s increasingly irritable behavior, understanding that it was just his way of reacting to Elrohir’s loss. He also knew, thanks to Celeborn, that Elladan felt a certain guilt over his twin’s disappearance, but since the young elf had brushed off his father’s attempts to talk to him, Elrond was unaware of just how much this was affecting Elladan’s outlook.

So, by the end of the week when not a single sign of Elrohir had been found and the searchers were nearly mad with frustration, Elrond finally lost patience with Elladan when his son once again showed up for dinner late, contributed nothing to the conversation, and even ignored Glorfindel when he asked him to pass the bowl of fruit. He’d had enough...Elladan would have to stop this inwardly-focused behavior and become an active member of the family again!

Thus he felt no qualms, after receiving discouraging reports from everyone else, about turning to his eldest and asking pointedly, “Elladan, do you have anything to offer today?”

Elladan, who had been moodily toying with his food and not really paying attention to what was being said, snapped his head up when he heard his name. His eyes narrowed in irritation as he regarded his father and considered the question. And just what did they expect him to say? It seemed obvious to him that if he’d found anything, he would have volunteered it already, so he felt the question could only have been meant as a provocation.

However, knowing that he would only have to deal with worse issues if he followed his impulses and walked out of the room without even answering, he said shortly, “Nay, I have nothing to offer,” and then looked back down at his food.

The elven lord pursed his lips, trying to keep his temper as he asked, “Nothing? Not even an opinion on where others might look? Even if you find it too much trouble to join the search parties, at a minimum you might deign to give us the benefit of your bond with Elrohir. You might know where he would choose to hide.”

Maintaining a maddening calm, Elladan flicked another look at his father and responded, “If it were truly Elrohir we were looking for, I might agree. However, I submit that you are not looking for him at all. It is merely the empty shell that he used to inhabit that you are now searching for—one that I could not possibly understand. My Elrohir would never have hurt me and left me, so you see, you waste your time and mine wondering where Elrohir would think to hide—you would do better to wonder where a panicked, mindless elf would be found. Now, I have told you all I know. Why do you not just leave me alone,” he finished coldly, his emotions finally slipping in at the end.

By now, though, Elrond had had more than enough. Elladan was not helping things with his overly-negative attitude. Snapping with irritation, he said, “There can be no thoughts of us ‘leaving you alone!’ Your twin is missing, clearly not in his right mind, and could very easily find himself in harm’s way, yet you refuse to be an active participant in our search—refusing to even help guide those who are willing to look for him! Now I understand how this has hurt you, but you must stop acting like you are the only one hurting here. Grow up, Elladan! We all have lost someone we love.”

At the look his son gave him—as if the young elf had just received a physical wound—Elrond paused, acknowledging that he’d allowed his own distress to affect how he’d spoken to his son. He knew that Elladan was hurting far more than he was letting on and he should have been more considerate. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and continued more quietly, “Elladan, I know what it is to lose a twin, so I understand your fears. But you have the best chance of finding Elrohir. You must help us.”

Elladan’s response was not what anyone expected. Instead of more demands to be left alone or even some weak excuse explaining why he shouldn’t join the search teams, Elladan instead stood up and faced his father shaking with barely-contained temper, “You cannot know what I feel! You know nothing!”

The elven lord didn’t know how to react to this outburst—the disrespectful, hurtful words were so uncharacteristic of his child. The great pain it caused him was clear in his voice as it was harsh with suppressed emotion, “I watched my twin grow old and die! How can you say I do not know of your pain?”

A short, hard laugh preceded Elladan’s answer, “Because you are still here!”

“What I mean,” Elladan delivered sharply, “is the very fact that you are still alive tells me that you cannot know what I feel…for if my twin were to choose the mortal life and die, I assure you that I would not linger long beyond his passing.”

Feeling like he’d been punched, the mighty elven lord felt a chill go through his body as he considered Elladan’s words. He had always believed deep down that the twins’ relationship mirrored his and Elros’. With Elladan’s assertion, however, he had to acknowledge that perhaps he had underestimated their bond and in fact, probably couldn’t know what Elladan was feeling. Afraid of the answer but forced to confirm what he thought he’d understood Elladan say, he softly asked, “You believe if Elrohir were to die, you would as well?”

Anger draining from him as he saw his father’s pale face, Elladan fell back into his seat and answered wearily, “Nay Ada, not ‘believe’...’know.’ I know I would not linger if Elrohir were to die. Indeed I would not wish to.”

“Then help us find him,” pleaded his father, wanting to find a way to reach his son. He had always feared that he would lose both sons if he lost one, but to hear that fear confirmed by Elladan had struck him like a blow to the heart.

But Elladan wasn’t ready to let down his walls. “I have told you he is gone,” he said, a touch of bitterness back in his voice.

“You hold great anger,” Galadriel interrupted quietly, surprising father and son, who had forgotten the rest of the family sitting around the table.

Elladan wanted to say something sarcastic about her great powers of observation, but even his anger wouldn’t let the young lord forget his manners and behave rudely to his grandmother. Instead, he settled for a quick glare in her direction and then looked back at his plate.

Galadriel wasn’t one to be ignored, however. Ruling an elven realm for millennia was not for the weak-willed, and she looked quietly at Elladan until her stare seemed to pull his gaze to her.

Once she had his attention, she spoke again softly, “You are angry with me. I understand that you blame me for your brother’s tragedy and I do not begrudge you those feelings, young one. Know that I hold myself to blame as well and cannot tell you how sorry I am for what transpired. Every indication I had told me that gazing into the pool would return your brother’s memories and I acted only to help him, never believing things would go so badly. I beg your forgiveness, Elladan, for I know you suffer most from his loss.”

Elladan closed his eyes. Why had he come to dinner? He didn’t want to deal with anyone’s emotions—he was having enough trouble with his own. But both his father and now his grandmother seemed to be pouring out their hearts...sigh. Finally, he opened his eyes and said to Galadriel truthfully, “I have no anger for you regarding what happened to Elrohir...truly. It was an accident.”

“Nay, I know you were only trying to help him,” Elladan answered, again wearily, wishing this conversation would end before it could go any further and end up in dangerous territory.

No such luck. Arwen spoke up then and asked her brother pointedly, “Then why the bitterness we see in your eyes, Elladan? Why do you hold yourself alone? With whom are you so angry if not us?”

For a moment, it seemed that he would not answer, for Elladan closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and turned away, but then he apparently lost his internal battle, for his eyes flew open and he turned back.

When Elladan looked at her, Arwen actually drew back at the fury in his expression. This mercurial temper was not like the brother she knew. Seconds ago he seemed disheartened and an instant later he was furious—she wished she’d never opened her mouth!

“With whom am I angry?!” Elladan asked incredulously. “I fail to keep Elrohir safe and you have to ask? I lose my twin forever and you wish to know who it is I blame? Do not be simple! Myself, of course! Who else? It was my job to protect Elrohir and I failed. Miserably. I knew it was a bad idea to try to retrieve his memories, but I let events unfurl without stopping them. And then I was supposed to watch him, but fell asleep instead. How could I not despise myself?”

“Elladan…” choked Arwen, seeing through the angers to the pain and wanting to help her hurting brother see that he was to blame no more than anyone else. It was just a terrible, terrrible accident.

But Elladan wasn’t about to let his anger go, even for his gentle sister. Pushing violently away from the table, he stood up and then towered over her, hissing, “Do not ‘Elladan’ me, Arwen! There is nothing you can say to make me feel any differently than I do now. And I also have no desire to waste my time answering pointless questions. In case you have not yet comprehended exactly what has happened, let me enlighten you,” he added, now addressing the whole room. Nothing that any of you are doing will make any difference! Elrohir is gone…and he is NOT coming back!”

With that, Elladan shoved aside the chair that he’d been holding onto, knocking it to the floor, and then stormed out the room.

Arwen shakily drew a deep breath after her irate brother left. Never before had one of her brothers ever turned on her so angrily and it left her feeling sick. Elrond dropped a comforting hand on her shoulder before exhaling himself and then took a seat next to her.

The silence of the room after Elladan’s departure was oppressive. No one felt like making more plans for the search after Elladan’s statement. Elrond, especially, had been struck by his son’s prediction. His managed to keep his face impassive, but it was only by sheer willpower that he kept is thus. He knew that the others were looking to him to stay strong, but in truth he wanted nothing more than to run out of the room himself and find some way to vent his own distress. His son was gone. His bright, cheerful child was really gone. In his heart he believed what Elladan had just said and thought that Elrohir wouldn’t be returning. And furthermore, after this evening’s conflict, he realized just how fully Elrohir’s loss had taken Elladan from him as well—the twins were both gone as surely as if Elladan were missing himself.

The next several days were difficult. Elladan withdrew even more, not even bothering with meeting with the others at dinner. He was becoming a total recluse, spending his days looking for Elrohir and his evenings alone.

It was when Elrond was on the verge of giving up hope of finding a way to reach Elladan that an unexpected answer literally arrived at his door. Just over two weeks after Elrohir’s disappearance, Erestor came to his study with a newly-arrived messenger. It was not one of Elrond’s elven envoys who had taken notices of Elrohir’s plight to the neighboring realms—no this was a decidedly shorter fellow…in fact, a dwarf.

Intrigued and glad for the distraction, Elrond greeted the dwarf formally and then waited for him to deliver his message.

With a flourish, the dignified dwarf pulled out an intricately tied scroll and handed it over to Elrond with a bow, “Lord Elrond, I bring you a request from Lord Bremon and was instructed to return promptly with your reply.”

“Indeed?” responded Elrond. “Then if you would wait but a moment, I shall read his missive and give you my response directly.”

Unrolling the parchment, Elrond saw that Lord Bremon was considering some modifications to their agreement…ones that would require negotiation before a final treaty could be decided upon. Furthermore, the dwarven lord had asked for an ambassador to be sent to his realm in order to work out the details—and he specifically asked that Elrohir be that ambassador.

Pushing aside the melancholy that came with the reminder of his missing son, Elrond greeted this development with interest. Since Elrohir could not be the one to go, perhaps this opportunity could be used to distract Elladan away from his despondency. Writing a short message at the bottom of the scroll saying merely that his ambassador would leave for the dwarven realm the following day, Elrond said his farewells to the messenger and then sent for his son.

It took awhile for Elladan to be found, but eventually he appeared in the doorway and with a short bow, asked formally, “You sent for me?”

Neglecting the disquiet he felt at his son’s unhappy, distant behavior, Elrond answered, “Aye. I have a job for you.” When this statement brought no response from Elladan, he continued, “Our treaty with Lord Bremon requires some adjustments and I am appointing you to be my ambassador.”

Not even a flicker of interest showed on the young lord’s face as he asked impassively, “Why? You usually send an advisor or a diplomat. Why send me?”

The father in Elrond hesitated a moment before answering, not wanting his words to wound. “Lord Bremon’s request for an envoy was specific. He asked that Elrohir represent our interests. And…as he cannot go, I wish for you to take his place.”

He thought he’d perfected his facade of detachment, but at his father’s words, Elladan couldn’t help the pained look that flashed across his face. Elladan knew that his twin would have been so pleased to be asked to play this key role. He could imagine how excited Elrohir would have been to be deemed worthy of the task and Elladan reflected briefly that it might have even been the catalyst to get him back on a horse. He could picture in his mind the lively discussion they would have had as Elrohir prepared for his journey. But none of that mattered. No…it didn’t matter how much his twin would have loved this chance. Elrohir was gone and he was being sent in his stead.

Forcing himself to nod his acceptance, Elladan said quietly, “I will go and do your bidding, my lord. Is there anything you need to tell me before I depart?”

Elrond knew his son was referring to instructions for his meeting with Lord Bremon, but took the opening to say something he’d been meaning to say for awhile, “I do have something I need to speak of. Come sit for a moment,” he added, gesturing to his couch.

Elladan walked to the couch and with all the grace of his elven ancestry, sat down next to his father, waiting impassively while Elrond carefully planned his words.

Elrond spoke not as a lord, but as a father when he said seriously, “I know how hard things have been for you these last weeks and I wish more than anything that I could undo these events. But I cannot and instead must take my comfort in something I learned log ago…Elladan, I have come to believe that things happen for a reason. Reasons that may not be clear right away—and in truth I cannot fathom why your brother was singled out for such hardship—but I believe the reasons will reveal themselves in time.”

Seeing only doubt in his son’s eyes, Elrond continued, “Elladan, you must have faith in the Valar. I have known since the day of your birth that you and Elrohir were meant for something momentous. You were created as two for a great purpose—I believe you were meant to do something that one could not do alone, so you must trust that Elrohir will somehow find his way home and allow you to fulfill your destiny together.”

In a half hurt, half angry tone, Elladan said, “Pretty words, Adar, but perhaps we have already fulfilled our destiny. Or perhaps Elrohir’s disappearance was simply part of our destiny and now I am to become so enraged by his loss that I turn into a driven being full of vengeance who goes on to conquer some great unknown evil. You see, you cannot know that our destiny truly means Elrohir will return. And as for faith…I have difficulty having faith in ones that would force Elrohir to live through his nightmare twice. He never deserved that even once, and I cannot find hope that some greater good will come from it!”

Elrond looked at the flushed face of his son, who had become more and more upset with each word. Elladan had a valid point, but Elrond felt strongly that he needed to give his son a sense of hope before he left. He couldn’t let him ride off with despair and hopelessness as his only companions. With that in mind, he said gently, “I understand your anger, but perhaps you should consider having faith in someone else. What about Elrohir himself? Have you no belief in his strength and determination? You know if anyone can find his way back, it would be your stubborn brother?”

Elladan ducked his head as those words caused the briefest smile to lighten his face. Yes, Elrohir was capable of almost anything if he set his mind to it. But…then the momentary lightness faded as he remembered, “But it was Elrohir himself who chose to leave,” he stated bluntly. “He would not knowingly come back.”

“You do not know that for sure,” answered Elrond. “We do not know why Elrohir left. We do not know what he was thinking.”

Looking him in the eyes for the first time in days, Elladan said firmly, “Ada, there need not be any discussions on what Elrohir was thinking when he ran off. I told you this already. Elrohir would never have hurt me and then left me on the floor. I know that with every fiber of my being. That is why I mourn. The elf who struck me bore no resemblance to my brother, other than his physical body. Elrohir himself was gone,” he finished, once again not quite masking his grief.

“Elladan, you must not lose hope for him,” whispered Elrond, his heart aching with sympathy for his son’s pain.

A single shake of his head preceded Elladan’s equally quiet response, “I cannot dare to hope, Ada. I would only be opening my heart for a mortal wound if my hopes were to be unfounded. I…I cannot.”

Elrond’s face reflected the deep love he felt for him as he tried to find words to give Elladan, his other lost son, a focus he so desperately needed, even if he didn’t realize it. Going to the core of the issue, he simply said, “He still exists somewhere and would expect you to find him. Elrohir needs you.”

Long silence followed Elrond’s declaration as Elladan struggled with his thoughts. He finally gave up all efforts to hide his feelings and dropped his head as he choked out, “I do not know what do. I do not know how I can face more long, lonely years of searching, Ada. Not when I do not believe he can truly be recovered. I am so tired of the despair. I want everything back the way it used to be. Oh Ada, what do I do?”

Elrond sighed as he longed for the old days when his sons were little elflings and he could fix all their troubles with a hug. Still, Elrond was pleased that he’d at least managed to break through Elladan’s wall and his son was really talking to him again. Fearful it would cure nothing but still needing to try, he pulled his child into a warm embrace and said, “You do not have to decide right away what to do about Elrohir, my son. For now, you can fulfill this duty that has come your way and then you may find a clearer path once you return home.”

Elladan rested in the warmth of his father’s arms. Elrond may doubt it, but even now those arms held the power to make his children feel reassured and protected. Elladan rested his forehead on his father’s shoulder and accepted the love and comfort that was offered. How had he forgotten? In his despair over Elrohir’s loss, he’d shut himself off from his family—those who could have been helping him cope during this dark time. He was grateful that his father hadn’t given up on him and was even now trying to reach him. Eventually, he pulled back gently and said, “Thank you, Ada. I guess I had best go pack now.”

He turned to go, but then before he left the room, ran back and gave his father another quick hug—trying to give comfort rather than just receive it. With the briefest smile, he then nodded and hurried out.

After he left, Elrond stood in the doorway, looking at where his son had just been. Although it had been a difficult talk, he was grateful for the outcome, for he had seen there in the last moment Elladan’s true, loving nature shining through all the misery. He had not lost his eldest after all. And for that, he was eternally thankful.

The following morning found Elladan awake early and preparing for his trip. Once he was ready to go, he gathered his belongings and quietly left his room. He was pleased that he didn’t have to say any goodbyes that morning, since he’d said them all the night before and thus was able to make his way directly to the stables.

As Elladan approached them, he was surprised to see Kalen, the head groom, leading his horse out of the stables, apparently already prepared for the journey.

In spite of himself, Elladan felt a small tug of joy when he saw Isilmë, his long-time companion, look over at him and whicker in greeting. He treasured this horse for many reasons, but two stood out in his mind—first of all, he could never forget how Isilmë had been his loyal companion during the dark years that he searched for his brother, but secondly, he had been a gift from that very same brother—a special horse that his twin had raised, trained, and then given him as a surprise. Isilmë was a living link to their past bond, so Elladan treasured this equine friend of his even more.

Elladan went to his horse and rubbed his cheek affectionately. It was such a beautiful animal, almost a silver-white with a deep look of intelligence in its eyes. He was so lucky to have such a treasured friend to accompany him on his journey and for a moment, his spirits lightened as he almost looked forward to the trip.

“Good morning,” said Kalen carefully, never quite at ease with the elder of Elrond’s sons.

With a great deal on his mind, Elladan didn’t feel much like talking and so turned a cool look towards the other elf and said somewhat curtly, “Good morning. Is Isilmë ready? I wish to be off immediately.”

“Aye. Your father sent word last night to have him prepared for you by first light. He is ready to go,” stated Kalen calmly. He hesitated before adding tentatively, “If I may—I hope this is not out of line, my lord, but I wish to express my great sorrow upon hearing of Lord Elrohir’s disappearance. He was a good friend and we have all sorely missed his presence...even before this latest tragedy.”

Elladan really looked at Kalen for the first time as he reflected on his brother’s love of horses and how this elf had been a part of that world for as long as he could remember. Kalen was a few years older than the twins and had always been around the stables when they were growing up, as his father had been a groom as well. And although Elladan himself had never really been good friends with the aloof Kalen, his easy-going brother had befriended him centuries ago. Thinking of how Elrohir would be scolding him right now for being unsociable with his friend caused Elladan’s mask to slip for just a moment and Kalen saw the raw pain in his eyes.

Annoyed at himself for not being able to maintain his emotionless façade, his response sounded almost angry when he said abruptly, “I thank you for your concern,” and then mounted his horse in one leap and without further words, rode off.

As the hoofbeats faded in the distance, Matias, Kalen’s younger brother who also worked in the stables, walked up behind him and silently stood at his shoulder.

“Did you hear?” murmured Kalen quietly, staring off where Elladan had disappeared.

“Aye,” answered Matias, hesitating uncertainly before adding, “do you think it was wise to bring up Elrohir with him? He was clearly not in a good mood and has never been very fond of us, even in the best of times.”

Kalen nodded his head, “You are right. But Elrohir has been our good friend for many centuries. How could I make no mention of him at all?”

With that, Kalen turned to go back to work, but was stopped by his brother who blocked his path and looked him square in the eyes as he asked, “Kalen, are you sure we are doing the right thing? As you just said, Elrohir has been our friend since we were children. Perhaps...perhaps we should end this now. I have heard what this has done to his family. What more can we hope for?”

In a heartbeat, Kalen’s expression hardened as he hissed, “End this? End this?! Perhaps you have forgotten what he cost us, but I cannot! I will never rest until we have extracted proper retribution from those responsible for our family’s loss!”

Kalen quickly cut off his younger brother, “Nay! Do not say it! If you had been able to see Elladan’s eyes just now you would have known we are doing the right thing. We are finally avenging Ada and Dahvos and I, for one, will never regret it!”

Matias had always followed his brother’s lead and his brief defiance was quickly waning, but he had to ask, “And what of Elrohir?”

The gleam in Kalen’s eyes answered him before he even spoke, “When we can be certain that he has no further use...” he paused for a moment, savoring the image in his mind, “then his life will be forfeit.”

It was a testament to the sad state of affairs that Elladan’s departure was a blessing to Rivendell’s inhabitants. Normally the presence of even one of Elrond’s twins brought great joy to the realm, but the lone twin that had roamed the valley was no longer capable of bringing happiness to anyone. Where once the twins would lighten spirits with their cheerful ways, now Elladan’s perpetual gloom had quite the opposite effect. And although he had not allowed his pessimistic outlook and brooding to directly hamper the search for his twin, Elladan’s certainty that the hunt was futile had made it difficult for others to keep up their spirits--despite what they might quietly believe of their chances to regain Elrohir, it was hard to even pretend to hope for his recovery when his mirror image clearly believed otherwise. And so, it was with a sense of relief that everyone noted Elladan’s departure and then put their tireless efforts back into finding his missing twin.

It was three long weeks after Elladan left that the hardworking elves finally received their first real ray of hope. The twins’ friend, Belder, had been making inquiries at several nearby settlements and in the small village of Willowpond had been led to an unkempt group of traders. There had been rumors that these men had found a dark-haired, wounded elf who did not seem to know his name. Unfortunately, the traders had been most uncooperative with Belder and had refused to give any meaningful information when questioned by the tall, imposing elven warrior. Thus, Belder had been forced to bring their leader back to Rivendell to ‘discuss’ the situation with Lord Elrond.

Robard, as the man was called, was brought directly to Elrond’s main council room where the elven lord was meeting with the leaders of his search teams. The disappointing news he was hearing from them had put him in a dark mood, and so all were grateful for the distraction when Belder requested permission to enter and brought in the scruffy human.

Bowing deeply, the elven warrior announced his purpose, “My lord, I bring you the human, Robard. He is a trader from Willowpond who had been heard speaking of finding a wounded elf. The description of that elf matches Lord Elrohir, but this man and his compatriots refused to provide further details and say where the elf was now. He said he would only speak to “the man in charge,” thus I brought him here, my lord, so that you might question him.”

When Elrond was displeased, his gaze could make even the stoutest quail, and right now he was very displeased. But despite his untidy appearance, Robard was a man that few could intimidate. Standing as tall as he could, he glared back at the elven lord, ignoring all the others in the room as he stated pompously, “I am Robard, a free trader. I can see that you do not appreciate my position, but I was certainly not answerable to your underling, here. I make it a point to speak only with those in positions to negotiate a fair trade. So...now that I am here, what information do you require and what are you willing to bargain for it?”

Elrond’s eyes narrowed and Glorfindel, who was standing beside him, drew in his breath. This was not the way to speak to an elven lord and the human wouldn’t win any points by being so blatantly greedy. Glorfindel opened his mouth to rebuke the bold man but Elrond spoke first, “It would have been best for all concerned had you simply answered my warrior’s questions and saved yourself a journey. If any compensation were due you, you can be assured that you would have received it. But as you are here now, it is useless to discuss what might have been. Let us instead get on with the business at hand.”

Elrond gestured to a chair, which Robard took with a haughty sniff. Then the elven lord continued abruptly in a hard voice, “My son is missing. We have seen no sign of him in over a month. And now it seems that you may hold the key to his whereabouts. That is why you were brought here—to tell us what you know.”

Neither Elrond nor Glorfindel missed the sudden gleam that flickered in the man’s eyes as he took in what had just been said. The missing elf was the lord’s son—that was even better than he’d thought! With a suddenly confident smile, Robard leaned casually back in his chair and said, “Yes, I can see now that you would be most interested in my story. It’s such a shame this unmannered fellow of yours didn’t think to explain to me earlier what was at stake. But no matter. It is still better this way, for it allows us to come to some...arrangement...before we discuss the fate of your poor, missing boy. After all, I sincerely doubt that you would wish hardship on me after all I’ve done. You see, my hardworking wife has been caring for the elf for some time, so it has become rather...costly, as I’m sure you understand.”

Belder wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off the man’s face. This cretin held one of his best friends, who just so happened to also be the son of his lord, and now the man wanted to be paid to tell them where Elrohir was! He clenched his fists and took a menacing step toward the trader before being stopped by a sharp command.

“Hold!” ordered Elrond. He certainly understood Belder’s frustration with the repulsive man, but wasn’t going to allow emotions to get in the way of finding Elrohir.

Turning back to the trader, he forced himself to remain impassive as he said, “I understand your position. And now you must understand mine. I will do what is necessary to regain my son. If your cooperation can facilitate it, so much the better. And if compensating you for that cooperation is in order, I accept that as well. But first, I will hear details of your encounter. I must know if it is indeed my son that you have found or some other unfortunate soul who requires our assistance. To begin, how did you come across the elf in question?”

Recognizing the need to appear cooperative, Robard put on a more serious face as he said, “Well, your lordship, my men and I came upon a group of dwarves camped on the side of the road—we stopped to trade with them and after we’d bartered for some goods, they asked if we’d be interested in trading for an elven slave. Now, you understand that we were shocked to hear that they had an elf for a slave! Naturally, we immediately decided to do everything in our power to rescue him. So, we settled on a price and...well...then I took him home and my sainted wife has cared for him ever since—him being in a bad way, you see. He’d been badly beaten, although the dwarves said it wasn’t them that did it. Anyway, we would have come to you sooner if we’d known where he belonged, but he’s only said one word, ‘Dan,’ and it didn’t mean anything to us.”

Glorfindel and Elrond shared a look as several of the other elves in the room audibly murmured at the man’s last words. It had to be Elrohir! Elrohir, calling for his twin! The excitement in the room was tangible as all contemplated finally finding the missing elf. Like a dose of cold reality, however, Robard added, “Now, before we go any further, how about we discuss that ‘compensation’ you mentioned?”

Elrond, a master of remaining composed during the most trying of times, was able to keep himself from revealing his thoughts, but he wanted so badly to shake Elrohir’s location from the greedy man. Extortion was the only word to describe Robard’s actions, but Elrond wasn’t about to let his disgust over the man’s greed get in the way of finding his son. For although he sensed a certain level of deceit, it was clear that the man’s words rang with truth and he believed that Robard had somehow come across Elrohir. Now he only had to determine what it would take to draw the answers out of him. He supposed he should be grateful that Elladan wasn’t around, for if he were here, there wouldn’t be enough elves in all of Arda to keep him from simply trying to choke what he needed out of the man.

Sometimes fate has a bizarre sense of humor, however, for no sooner had Elrond finished being grateful for his good fortune that Elladan was absent, than he heard a disturbance out in the hall followed by Erestor’s sharp call, “Elladan, stop! You may not enter!”

Not a moment later, the door flew open and there, without further fanfare, stood Elrond’s son—filthy, tired, and looking rather disreputable with a scraped up chin and black eye, but there he was! The young elf began to smile in greeting as he started into the room, but then stopped abruptly when he saw the trader and slowly his features twisted into a deep scowl. Elrond was dismayed. Oh Valar! Apparently Elladan had heard somehow that this man held his twin—Elrond knew that he had to get Elladan out of the room before he said something to damage their chances of finding Elrohir!

“Elladan!” said the elven lord as he rushed across the room, “I did not expect you back so soon!”

When he reached the young elf, who was standing frozen, still glaring at the man, Elrond grabbed his arm and instead of a giving him a welcoming hug, started to pull him out of the room saying rapidly, “Elladan, it is good to have you home. But you look tired. You should clean up, get some food, and rest awhile after your journey. There are a few things I must attend to here, so I cannot join you immediately. But you should run along and I will join you later.”

Distracted by the presence of the trader and caught off-guard by his father’s actions and uncharacteristic babbling, the surprised, tired young elf allowed himself to be dragged toward the door until he regained his wits and tried to pull away.

But Elrond cut him off with a, “Not now, son. I am truly pleased to see you and wish to hear all about your trip, but I must complete something first. Now wait for me outside.”

By that point, they were at the door and Elrond had almost succeeded in pushing his son out when the young elf surprised the elven lord by grabbing onto his sleeve and pulling him out, shutting the door firmly behind them, and then blocking the entrance with his body.

“I am required inside right now,” began Elrond alternating a glare between his son and the closed door. “This is not the time for any theatrics. Truly. Your news will have to wait.”

The look he received was a mixture of frustration and...amusement? “Ada,” said the obviously weary elf, “is that to be my only greeting?”

“You must forgive me, but I really am busy right now,” tried Elrond again as he began to push his son aside and reenter the room, but once again found his arm held tight.

“Ada, stop,” demanded his son. “I do not believe you have truly looked at me.”

Suddenly worried that Elladan might need some sort of medical attention—after all he did have that gloriously discolored black eye—Elrond paused a moment and looked his son over. He seemed ready to fall over from fatigue; his hair was in complete disarray; and his clothes, clearly not his own, were muddied and torn, but other than the black eye and scrape on his chin, Elrond could see no visible signs of injuries. There was obviously some kind of story here, but each of his sons had come home in the past looking far worse. What exactly was it that he was supposed to be seeing?

“Elladan,” said Elrond, taking a deep breath and at last regaining his normal, cool composure, “It is imperative that I attend to the business awaiting me inside. It regards a matter of the greatest importance. You must not detain me any longer.”

When all he received was another frustrated, “Ada!” from his son who still didn’t move, Elrond tried his most stern glare. After all...what if that greedy trader decided he had been insulted and wouldn’t bargain for Elrohir’s return!? Bringing himself up to his full height, the elven lord stated firmly, “I will explain all to you later, but for now you must not demand any more of my attention. You have not been so vexing since you were an elfling,” he finished with obvious irritation and once more tried to push past.

But his arm was still being held firm. He tugged on it, but to no avail. He opened his mouth to soundly scold Elladan, when unexpectedly Elrond found himself drawn into a tight hug, followed by a short chuckle and words murmured into his shoulder, “Ada, the last time you mixed us up was when we were elflings.”

Elrond froze in his son’s embrace. “What?” he gasped before finding the strength to push back and look at his son again. Really look at him. “Elrohir...?” he whispered.

Yes, it was Elrohir who had made his way home. And it had been a long journey that had brought him there...one that began weeks earlier on that fateful night when he had disappeared.

On that long ago night an elf—an elf who Elrohir had always counted as a friend—had snuck into his home, had slung the comatose elf over his shoulder, and then he had knocked Elladan (who in fact never saw the face of his assailant) unconscious before carrying Elrohir away.

After that, Elrohir lay unaware for the better part of a week while Kalen, the elf who had stolen him, and his brother Matias kept him hidden in a back room of the stables. Elves, needing horses to search for their missing prince, time and again had come within just feet of the unconscious elf, but they never thought to doubt the word of the stablemaster when he said he’d thoroughly searched all of the stables himself and so Elrohir remained undiscovered.

It was Matias who was on hand when his young lord finally began to awaken. Elrohir had lain as one almost dead, not moving at all even when they forced him to drink water, so the groom was startled when he heard a sound from the small room where they had Elrohir hidden. Glancing around to make sure that there was no one else around, he pushed open the door, and pulled away the feed bags in front of the little box that they used as a makeshift prison.

Elrohir wasn’t finding his path toward consciousness an easy one. His thoughts were in complete disarray. Darkness...despair...pain...anguish...nothing clear except for an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. As he lay there, shifting restlessly, Matias knelt down and gazed at his captive.

Matias was alarmed to see Elrohir struggling toward consciousness. For days, Elrohir had been completely still as he lay in the cramped confines of the little wooden crate, with his hands tied and mouth gagged. But instead of lying there motionless, the young elven lord was now tossing back and forth, his eyes tightly closed as his aimless motions rocked the crate. It had been the creaking of the crate that had drawn Matias’ attention, and he bent forward to try to settle Elrohir.

As he tentatively reached for the ailing elf, Matias asked himself for the thousandth time if he was doing the right thing. It pained him to see Elrohir like this. He had always admired the younger son of Elrond, not only for his exceptional skill with horses, but also for his friendly, winning ways. Long ago Elrohir had befriended Matias, but more than that, he had worked his magic on Kalen and had become a good friend to the older groom as well. It wasn’t everyone who could charm Kalen into being their friend, and Matias had treasured the knowledge that his lord’s son had thought well enough of his temperamental brother to strike up a friendship.

“Shh...quiet Elrohir,” said Matias as he gently pushed down on Elrohir’s shoulders and tried to hold him still. He heard a confused whimper, muffled by the gag, and felt his throat tighten as he continued to try to calm down his old friend, who was clearly not fully aware. It had been a sound of mindless pain and it struck Matias like a blow, suddenly causing him to ignore Kalen’s order to treat Elrohir like an enemy and instead pulled his friend to him. He held him comfortingly in his arms, murmuring soft words until Elrohir finally stopped shaking and after many long minutes, seemed to fall back asleep. Settling the now-quiet elf back down where he was before, Matias gave Elrohir a sad look of apology before closing the door, glad that Kalen had not seen his act of kindness.

Elrohir wasn’t so lucky the next time his confused mind struggled toward consciousness. It was in the dark of night several days later when he once again began to fight the shadows that imprisoned his mind. But it wasn’t the sympathetic Matias who heard his movements this time, instead it was the stablemaster himself, Kalen. He shared quarters with Matias in rooms adjoining the stables and had been just going to sleep when he heard a thumping sound that drew him into the barn. Softly cursing as he saw that it came from the tiny room where they kept Elrohir, he pulled open the door, opened the crate, and glared at his captive.

“Quiet!” he hissed, as he saw Elrohir kicking the side of the crate. When he didn’t stop, Kalen reached down and grabbed his foot, jerking back in surprise when his touch caused Elrohir to erupt in a panicked struggle.

It was unfortunate for Elrohir that it was the middle of the night, for the noise that he made as he fought Kalen would have been enough to alert one of the many other elves that frequented the stables during the day. However, only Kalen and his brother were around at night and Matias was out tending to a sick horse, so there was none to hear the short-lived battle. Hands tied, weakened, and not even fully aware of what he was doing, Elrohir was no match for the strong groom, and he was soon pinned tightly to the floor.

“You are determined to be difficult!” growled Kalen, breathing heavily after his efforts to subdue his prisoner. “I suppose I should have expected that. Your family is nothing but trouble. Clearly you need some more ‘encouragement’ to be silent. Now stop it!” he ordered as he backhanded his captive, who had once more begun to twist beneath him.

The brutal blow slammed Elrohir’s head backward into the boards of his box, but only caused him to increase his struggles. Not really aware of what he was doing, but somehow knowing that his situation was desperate, he writhed in a vain attempt to dislodge his tormenter.

Another short-lived battle followed, with Kalen once again the clear victor, but this time he had moved beyond irritated and was now seething in anger. “You never listen, do you? None of you do. All of you insist on having your way, regardless of who gets hurt, don’t you? Well, not this time. This time we do things my way,” he hissed, punctuating his words with several vicious punches to his captive’s stomach.

Gasping for air, Elrohir was unable to fight as Kalen roughly untied his hands and after shoving him on his stomach, tightly relashed them behind his back. The angry elf then proceeded to tie Elrohir’s legs together and blindfold him before pushing him back into the small crate. With jerky, angry movements, Kalen then stuffed feed bags around him to ensure that Elrohir couldn’t make noise again even if he wanted to. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, the elf closed the crate up, relatched the outer door and with a grim, last look, went back to bed.

Elrohir was left in the dark, only marginally aware of his surroundings, but aware enough to be frightened. As he worked on controlling his breathing—a difficult task in the stuffy, dark little box—the young elf tried to force his thoughts into some semblance of order. He still didn’t understand what was happening, but the harsh treatment had brought an unexpected, priceless gift. No one, not even Galadriel or Elrond himself would have predicted it, but as scenes of past torment blended with the present, linked together by the identical face and voice, Elrohir’s mind slowly began to focus. Kalen’s anger had unexpectedly sparked something within Elrohir and the young elf calmed down as realized with something akin to shock that he could think.

Hours passed as he lay there, hovering between consciousness and oblivion as he desperately tried to claw his way fully back to his senses. He was unable to force his thoughts to completely focus, but still stubbornly refused to accept the comfort of the void that beckoned him. No...it would be easy to sink into unconsciousness, but Elrond’s sons were never known for following the easy path. For short little snippets of time, Elrohir was able to think clearly and those moments were enough to keep him trying for more. He latched onto those moments as his lifelines to sanity, and hour after hour was a spectator to the myriad scenes that flew through his mind. Some dark and grim. Some so horrifying that they almost made him ill. But some were of joyful times. Some were full of light and love. It was those scenes that he tried to grab onto. Those scenes that helped drive away that overwhelming hopeless feeling that he had awakened to. After unknown hours passed, he finally was able to latch onto one image that he knew would help him keep his grip on reality. It was the dark-haired elf who featured prominently in so many of his memories. An elf whose very image filled him with a feeling of wholeness. He didn’t know who this elf was, but with a determination born of desperation, Elrohir made himself focus only on that image and the comfort it brought to him, ignoring all the other horrors that tried to crowd in. Somehow, that gave his uneasy mind enough peace and at long last, he gave in to his weariness and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

The next several days turned out to be quite miserable ones for Elrohir. He was awake more and more as the days went by, but that only meant that he suffered more from the physical discomfort of being stuffed in the little box and tightly bound. That didn’t help his mental state either, which continued to be rather cloudy even as he clawed his way back to his senses.

As he lay there day after day, he would run through all that he’d been able to work out. He knew...he knew his name was Elrohir. That much he was certain of. Not only was that what he was called by the elves who periodically gave him food and water, but he also knew it inside himself. Yes, he was Elrohir. It was reassuring to know one’s name. And Elladan...he had finally put a name to the dark haired elf and merely the thought of him brought immeasurable comfort. He hadn’t determined precisely who Elladan was, but he had remembered the name at last and knew that this particular elf was very dear—that was also a certainty. His mere image was a comfort and he felt deep within him that they were closely bound to each other.

What else did he know? He knew that the elves who tended him had hurt him in the past. They were mixed up in some of those dark visions that he’d had. But he also thought that he remembered them as friends. How could both of those memories be true? It made it quite difficult to trust what he thought he could remember. And...he had thought that someone had been torturing him, but although he was desperately uncomfortable, he didn’t think he was actually injured, so that memory definitely was flawed. And dwarves. Where were the dwarves? Somehow he thought they had been holding him...hadn’t they? So why was he a captive of elves? So much was confusing!

One day as he lay there patiently trying to work things out, Elrohir jerked with alarm as he heard the faint whinny of a horse nearby. A new thought suddenly broke through. Horses couldn’t be trusted! His beautiful horse—Raumo was his name!—had recently attacked him...well...hadn’t he? But...but he remembered a cracked shoulder as a result of that attack and his shoulder was fine. So this was another flawed memory. Or were these memories at all? Or just nightmares—figments of his imagination? He was so confused. And his head always hurt. And he was tired. Weary and unable to make sense of things, the young elf eventually slipped into a troubled sleep as he always did when the fight for his sanity overwhelmed him.

For uncounted days that same pattern repeated itself. Elrohir would lie awake, cramped and hot, while piece-by-piece he would try to recreate his shattered thoughts. After struggling with that task for hours, he would have worked out one or two new “truths” about himself, but would have also have given himself an unbearable headache, which would nearly make him ill. Only by concentrating on the image of Elladan, who represented in his mind all that was good in life—loyalty, friendship, security, strength, peace, joy, love—could he eventually fall asleep.

This pattern was broken only by the occasional visits from the two elves who held him. He recognized them from the short glimpses of the past that he’d remembered and had at last put names to their faces, but couldn’t remember much more about them—important little details like why they were holding him! He knew, however, that these two had been unspeakably cruel to him in times gone by, so he said nothing to them during those first days—nothing that would provoke the brutality that he knew they were capable of.

Eventually he came to realize that one of the two elves didn’t seem to be very happy about his captivity. Matias always spoke quietly and was rather gentle with his captive. And although the elf never said it outright, Elrohir could tell from his expression that he was ashamed of his part in what was happening. Elrohir tucked this little bit of information away and tried to decide how he could use it later on—perhaps when the time was right he might be able to convince the sympathetic elf to let him go.

The other elf, Kalen, was the more dangerous one. This was the one that Elrohir connected in his patchy memories with the most brutality and that one was obviously still terribly angry, for he was rough, harsh, and clearly begrudged even taking the time to bring water. His words were always filled with hate and he would often backhand or punch Elrohir without any seeming provocation. Yes, this was the one to watch. Not only was he the more dangerous one, but Elrohir also had a feeling that this one might be goaded into telling him what this was all about—why they had taken him prisoner.

Elrohir finally got his answers several weeks after he’d been taken. The intervening weeks had taken their toll on him as he suffered through endless hours in the suffocating darkness. During the day when other elves were around the stables, he was left completely alone and it was only in the dead of night that one or the other of his captors would open up the box to give him food and water, affording Elrohir a small measure of relief. Now after many weeks of this treatment, he was worn out. Infrequent and inadequate food and water, agonizingly cramped muscles from being constantly bound, and precious little fresh air had left the normally strong elf listless and weak.

Thus the night that he finally did get his answers, he was in quite sorry shape. In fact, he was in worse condition than usual because it had been three days since either of his captors had checked on him, nearly at the limit for an elf to be without water. He was barely aware, therefore, when his little crate was pried open and he was pulled out onto the ground.

As Elrohir was still blindfolded, he missed the look that came over Kalen’s face as the typically ill-tempered elf looked down on his captive. Kalen actually felt guilty as he saw the limp, sweat-soaked body of his lord’s son and for just a fleeting moment, he found himself feeling sorry for causing Elrohir’s discomfort. He shook his head in anger at himself. It wasn’t his fault that both he and his brother had been called away for a few days to help with some ill horses. If Elrohir suffered as a consequence...well, that was just unfortunate for Elrohir. No, he couldn’t afford to falter now due to misplaced feelings of guilt. It was hard enough to keep Matias under control. For the past couple of weeks he had been having daily arguments with his little brother about Elrohir’s fate and he knew he’d be unable to keep Matias in line if he showed any signs that he also questioned their actions. No, he had to be the strong one if they were ever to achieve their long-sought goal of avenging their family.

Elrohir was completely unaware of any of Kalen’s thoughts and in fact wouldn’t have cared much if he had been aware of them. He was too busy breathing in air that for once wasn’t stale and was overwhelmed by the need to quench his thirst. Thus, when his blindfold and gag were removed, he didn’t even take a moment to note that it was the cranky Kalen that crouched before him, since all he could see was the cup of water that was being held in front of his face. Forcing himself not to gulp it too fast, he accepted the water from his captor with a profound sense of gratitude and after he’d had his fill, nodded his thanks and then laid his head wearily back down on the ground.

Kalen noted Elrohir’s look of thanks with renewed anger. Why did the stupid elf have to make this harder? Why couldn’t he act more like his obnoxious twin? If Elrohir had been overbearing and rude, it would have been so much easier to pretend that it was Elladan they held captive, which in truth was a little charade he played with himself in order to keep his anger finely honed. But when Elrohir seemed grateful for just a simple cup of water, he had to face the fact that it wasn’t the lordly older twin they held, but the younger one—the one who had been his friend.

Damn him anyway! The niggling sense of guilt made Kalen feel even more on edge than usual and suddenly he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Elrohir’s lost eyes for even one moment more. Ignoring the way Elrohir was still gasping in the fresh air, he grabbed the blindfold and gag and started shoving his captive back into the box, deciding not to even feed him first.

But Elrohir wasn’t ready. He had been completely alone, motionless and nearly suffocating in his little prison for days and couldn’t bear to be put back in so soon. Before Kalen could cover his mouth with the gag, Elrohir asked in a husky, dry voice, “Not yet...please. Let me breathe the clean air for a moment longer.”

Elrohir didn’t really expect that his plea would be answered—after all, this was the angry elf before him—but surprisingly Kalen growled out a response, “Why should I?”

Normally the younger twin would have been able to come up with a quick, clever answer, but he was too drained to think of anything useful to say so instead simply whispered, “Please?”

Abruptly, Kalen stood and walked to the door and stood there, pressing his forehead into the hard wood, his thoughts in a whirling frenzy. What in all of Arda was he doing? He shouldn’t be allowing Elrohir to speak, much less answering him. It would only make things harder for them all in the end. But for once, he just couldn’t summon the white-hot rage that had sustained him in the past. This was wrong. He couldn’t continue doing this. NO!...he had to stay strong. Dahvos and his father were counting on him! Oh why was this so hard? Why couldn’t Elrohir have simply died years ago? Then this would all be over and he and Matias could finally rest. Fool dwarves! If only they hadn’t come when they did. Stupid little dirt-dwellers had ruined everything! If not for them he wouldn’t be facing the daily ordeal of having to torment his old friend. What could he do? What could he do?! Maybe if he could get Elrohir mad...yes, maybe then he could feed off of that anger and be able to pull this off.

Making his decision, Kalen turned back around just as abruptly and faced Elrohir, none of the indecision and doubts reflecting on his face. Carefully creating his usual angry mask, he grabbed Elrohir beneath his arms and propped him up against the wall, then sat down across from him.

Elrohir studied his captor carefully. Just what was going on? For weeks the two elves who tended to him had followed exactly the same pattern when they fed him, never deviating at all. Why had the other elf sat him up and given him a respite from his cage? Not trusting this change, he looked warily at the other, reflecting that he didn’t know if this unexpected reprieve was a good or bad thing, but knowing his luck, it was probably the latter.

Nothing happened for the first few minutes while Elrohir enjoyed the chance to breathe fresh air and the two of them sat in silence until he decided to take a chance and asked quietly, “Can you tell me why? What have I done to you to cause you to imprison me thus?”

Truthfully, he wouldn’t have been surprised to receive a kick or a fist to the stomach for daring to ask such a question, but instead the other elf, who had been waiting for such an opening, unexpectedly responded.

“How predictable. You peredhils always think it is about you. If you must know, this has little to do with you. You are merely a means to an end,” he said, an answer which made no sense at all to Elrohir.

Elrohir said nothing for a moment, doubtlessly thinking that it was only natural for him to think this had something to do with him since he was the one that was currently being forced to live in a box! Instead of pointing out that rather obvious fact, however, he asked again, “Then why?”

“Nay,” whispered the young elf lord. “I remember almost nothing of who I am nor my life. Thus, I beg of you to tell me why I am here.”

“I owe you no explanation,” snarled Kalen, suddenly regretting his impulsive decision to talk with Elrohir, since doing so was causing him to once more feel sorry for him. He had thought that Elrohir would remember the long ago beating and would thus be full of rage. Instead, his old friend was obviously still suffering from whatever had rendered him unconscious in the first place and had a rather lost look in his eyes. This wouldn’t do! He couldn’t let himself fall into the trap of feeling badly for Elrohir. Leaning forward, he reached over to pull the gag back up but was stopped when Elrohir jerked his head away.

The desperate elf said hurriedly, “Perhaps you do not owe me an explanation, but what would it hurt to tell me?”

Kalen paused for a moment, staring at Elrohir until he seemed to make a decision and then leaned back again and shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing would change by you knowing. The outcome will still be the same.”

“Then tell me. Please. I cannot believe that I do not at least deserve to know how I earned your hatred,” said the young captive intently.

For the very first time he saw a lighter look flit over the other elf’s face as Kalen said with a humorless laugh, “I do not hate you. In fact, I have always counted you as one of a select few friends.”

“Friends?” echoed Elrohir in surprise. This elf was his friend? He felt lightheaded with the sudden thought that he must have done something utterly horrid to warrant such treatment from a friend. Is that why he’d forgotten his past? Because he didn’t want to remember that he, himself had done something unspeakable?

Kalen folded his arms and stared off, unseeing. “I do not expect you to understand, but yes, we have been friends for many a year.”

Elrohir said nothing at all in response, his own thoughts in turmoil. He wasn’t sure any more that he wanted to know why he was being held. He may not like what he found out.

But the other elf wasn’t watching his captive’s expressions. Momentarily forgetting his aim of making Elrohir angry, he lost himself in reflection as he spoke of his hidden pain.

“It all began years ago,” reminisced Kalen, “when my older brother, Dahvos became one of the Imladris Guard. My adar was the head groom and we had all assumed that Dahvos would follow in his footsteps, but he chose to follow his own path and became a warrior instead.” Kalen took a slow breath before adding, “It was not a bad choice, as he enjoyed the excitement of battle and found protecting our lands immensely fulfilling. He made my family proud. Thus it was left to Matias and I to learn our adar’s craft, but we did not mind and all seemed well in our family. We were so happy. None of us could envision what was to come.”

He glanced over at Elrohir before frowning and continuing in a darker voice, “Then came the mission that changed everything. It was not meant to be a difficult one—a quick trip to bring a herd of horses from Rohan. Dahvos was one of a small group of warriors that accompanied my adar...and your brother was their leader.”

Elrohir listened intently as his captor spoke. His brother? He had a brother? One more ‘truth’ to tuck away and explore later.

Kalen’s lip curled as he continued, “Aye, it was Elladan that led the group. Elladan who led my family to destruction!”

His heart suddenly beat faster as Elrohir understood the implications of what his captor was saying. Elladan was his brother! He felt a sense of satisfaction as he took that in. Yes. It fit perfectly with how he saw the other elf in his mind. Of course Elladan was his brother! His joy was short-lived, though, as the other continued.

“Polinas, my closest friend, was another of the guard, and he told me the story of your brother’s inept leadership and cowardice on the day that changed my life. On their way home, the group ran across a band of orcs and your brother led them straight into a trap! Instead of staying in the trees as was prudent, he rushed forward in some misguided attempt at heroics, which warned the orcs and allowed them to gain the upper hand. Dahvos was hit almost immediately as he tried to protect the group and was cut off from the rest when he fell.” Kalen began to shake with suppressed hatred as he continued. “Then your brother, Lord Elladan,” he spat the name as if a curse, “would do nothing to help him. He fled back to the trees in terror, abandoning my brother in order to save his own skin. It was left to my adar to try to save Dahvos, but he was no warrior...and soon fell under the orcs’ blades as well. And just like that, my life ended. When she heard of their fate, Naneth could not bear the sorrow of their loss and, along with my sister Ritea, chose to leave for the undying lands. Just like that, my family was gone. All but Matias, who remained here with me to see justice served Every other joy in my life was gone, leaving nothing in my heart except the desire to see your brother pay for his cowardly betrayal of those warriors.”

The look that Kalen gave Elrohir made the young elf shiver as pure hatred reflected in the older elf’s eyes. “Polinas told me of how several other warriors were killed as Elladan hid in the trees and sat there, paralyzed with indecision. Elladan,” he hissed, “is the one who must pay for their loss. He is the one who should die, but death would be too easy. Instead, hemust feel the unending sorrow of losing his brother.” He concluded with intense satisfaction, “And he is the one who will wish to die himself once he knows you are lost forever.”

Elrohir actually felt cold as he listened to the other elf. He had no time to feel glad that he hadn’t committed some monstrous act of his own in the past. Hearing of his brother’s part made him feel just as ill as if he’d done it himself. His image of Elladan had been his lifeline for...well, as long as he could remember, even if that was only a few weeks. He couldn’t reconcile the feelings of strength, compassion, and love that he felt for his brother with the image that his captor had painted of a weak, self-serving elf who led his warriors to their doom. No...he just didn’t believe it. That couldn’t be right!

So strong was that feeling that Elrohir was compelled to voice it, “You are wrong. Elladan would not have done what you said.”

Kalen glared at his captive as he snapped, “I thought you said you did not remember.”

“I do not,” stated Elrohir firmly. “But I remember enough of Elladan to know that he would never leave a warrior to die just to save himself. He would not!”

Kalen stood and towered over his prisoner, “Shut up!” he cried. “You know nothing. Elladan destroyed my family and now I will destroy him by taking that which he loves most—you!”

Absurdly pleased to hear that he meant as much to Elladan as the other elf meant to him, Elrohir nonetheless realized that he had made a tactical error in contradicting his captor. Making him mad would only cause more hardship. Still, he was tired of playing the role of the helpless prisoner and threw caution to the wind as he contradicted with calm dignity, “You are the one who knows nothing. Your ill-advised attempt at vengeance will not bring back your family. Moreover, it is not the way of our people and in the end, will only bring you more grief. You would be better served by joining your family yourself than to spend your days here plotting my brother’s downfall by destroying me.”

“You are a fool!” shouted Kalen, punctuating his remark with a kick to Elrohir’s shins. “Elladan is a coward. A filthy, stinking, worthless excuse of an elf who has never been punished for his failures, just because of who he is. I know this will not bring back my family, but when Elladan receives his just rewards, I know they will rest easier.”

Elrohir regarded the angry elf with a certain amount of dismay. Although it hadn’t been said explicitly, he realized, of course, that the other elf meant to kill him. It was just a matter of how and when. He wasn’t afraid exactly, but the thought wasn’t precisely a pleasant one, either. But that aside, he still wanted more answers and he knew that he’d have to calm down the other elf in order to keep him talking. Thus, he softened his voice and said quietly, “You have clearly put a great deal of thought into your plans and I can understand how the loss of your family has hurt you. But I still do not understand how it is that I ended up here. How did I end up your prisoner?”

At first Elrohir didn’t think Kalen was going to answer, as he remained towering over his captive, face set in an angry scowl. But then he turned away and walked over to a barrel by the wall and faced his captive again as he sat on it. Then he answered in an almost conversational tone, “The ‘plans’ that you speak of are far more detailed that you imagine and the reason you are here now is only because we were not able to fulfill our original plan. Your presence here is simply due to an opportunity we saw to complete our mission. But before…” Kalen paused as the memories of earlier times flooded his mind.

“Aye,” he reminisced, “we had worked out every detail of our original plan. We had to, in order to fully avenge my family’s loss. At first, after the death of my adar and brother, Polinas, Matias, and I spent our days trying to console my naneth and Ritea. Polinas was like another brother to us and was also betrothed to Ritea, so he was an integral part of that effort. In the end, though, we failed and Naneth could not accept the loss…and…and she decided to leave. And as she left, Ritea chose to go with her.”

It had been years since his mother departed, but Kalen still was heartbroken as he thought of her leaving and for a moment lost his voice. It had been so hard to see her walk away and know that he may never see her again. Forcing himself to move on, though, Kalen grimly continued with his narrative, “After that, Polinas was inconsolable. I suppose he felt it worse than Matias and I since he’d seen first hand the senseless nature of their loss due your brother’s betrayal. Regardless of why, he soon began making plans of ways to pay Elladan back for ruining our lives. His first thoughts were more direct…he spoke of elaborate ways to injure and maim not you, but your brother. But then one day he saw the two of you together, joking and teasing as you were wont to do, and he realized that the far greater hurt would be for Elladan to lose you—and that is when he formed the main plan.”

Kalen glanced over at Elrohir to see how he was taking all this, not surprised to see the other elf simply looking at him impassively. His old friend always was good at hiding his feelings when he wanted to. But even though he wasn’t eliciting the anger that he needed from Elrohir, Kalen wanted to continue. For some reason, he was finding it helpful to put into words all that had happened. It helped him justify once again to himself why they were doing this. Thus, he continued on.

“Polinas approached Matias and I one night and we talked into the wee hours of the morning, debating what we should do about Elladan’s treachery. And it was that night that we swore an oath that we would find some way to make him pay. Polinas, of course, had already come up with the perfect plan and told us of an elaborate way to trap you the next time you rode out on your own and then leave you at death’s door for Elladan to find. It was a well thought-out plan and we executed it almost to perfection. Your next unaccompanied trip actually was one to buy horses from Rohan—poetic justice, I felt, since it was a similar venture that doomed my family—and we were able to lure you off the main path and into a small clearing on your way home. You were so naïve, never suspecting anything as you rode up to us. But you soon learned of your mistake.”

During Kalen’s calm recitation, Elrohir still let no emotion flit across his face, but inside he was almost sick with dread. He didn’t remember all the details…indeed, he could only remember small flashes of the scene that he knew Kalen was about to describe, but what he could recall made his blood run cold. He stared unblinking as his captor told more.

“At first, once we saw you ride up, cheerfully greeting us, I admit Matias and I were almost hesitant to carry out our plan, but fortunately Polinas did not falter. He knew what we had to do to avenge our loved ones. So, he signaled me and I had your horse throw you, then he stripped you of your weapons, bound you, and then we all proceeded to give you the beating that would destroy your brother. Yes, as the blood rage overcame us, it became easier and easier to do what we needed to do and eventually we all found ourselves participating fully in his destruction.” With that, Kalen paused to savor the sheer joy they’d all felt as they worked to fulfill their oath to avenge their family.

Elrohir, though, felt his stomach churn as he remembered that time. How could Kalen describe it so matter-of-factly? How could he so calmly talk about their descent into pure depravity? He remembered enough of that ‘beating’ to know that it was so brutal and thorough that by all accounts he should not have lived through it. Not just fists, but…but stones…and…and whips. And the taunts…they had enjoyed what they were doing! Unable to keep himself impassive as he felt again the horrid sense of betrayal that he’d experienced, he gasped a shaky breath, drawing Kalen’s attention to him.

The other elf narrowed his eyes as he, too, relived the moment and relished the feeling of power that had come with Elrohir’s torment. Seeing the same elf before him though, still not destroyed, reminded him that he still had not fully satisfied his oath—they had been interrupted and thus Elladan still needed to pay through the death of his twin.

A little more emotionally, Kalen stated, “You were spared when a stupid band of dwarves came through the woods, drawn, I imagine, by the sounds. You had hit your head on a rock and were unconscious and we thought you’d soon be dead, so we left you and ran, unwilling to have the dwarves see us. I do not know what exactly happened to you after that.”

Elrohir, who by now was trembling with the horror of those remembered scenes, had to ask, “And how did you think that you would get away with it? If the dwarves had not come, how were you going to explain what you’d been doing in the woods? After all, once I was found, our warriors would have been able to backtrack you to Imladris.”

Kalen smirked at his captive, “Aye, we knew we would caught eventually, but we did not care. Our plan was to go home and plant enough clues to entice Elladan to come find you and while he was gone, we would leave to join our naneth and Ritea. But the dwarves messed things up since we did not know if they would leave you there…and, of course, they apparently did not, since you disappeared.”

“At any rate, after we left you to the dwarves,” Kalen mused, “we hid Raumo in a safe spot and simply came home. We expected that your body would be found in time or that if you survived, the dwarves would send you back. But we never heard anything more about you. You had just vanished. At first we lived in daily fear that you would return and expose what we had done, but in time we came to realize that everything had worked out for the best. Not only did Elladan suffer tremendously with your disappearance, but we were able to enjoy watching his suffering, as we were not forced to leave. Oh yes, the weeks and months that he and most of Imladris spent looking for you were glorious! We had to take great care to act appropriately worried when anyone came by, but it was even better than we’d planned when we saw Elladan so visibly distraught all the time!” he finished with a satisfied smile.

Elrohir regarded his captor angrily. It was bad enough…yes, more than bad enough…to hear how he’d been trapped and tortured. It was agonizing just to hear of what they’d done to him and even now he almost couldn’t believe that it was true, except that his patchy memories corroborated Kalen’s story. But worse than that, how could the other elf so callously talk about the anguish that he’d caused and seem so…so gleeful about it? He still didn’t remember all that had happened, but he knew enough to be sure that his disappearance had caused more than just Elladan’s suffering. There was the rest of his family to think about and all his friends. How could a fellow elf not care about how his actions hurt so many others? He wanted to ask that very question in the most scathing way possible, but there was still one more thing he wanted to know first. What had happened to that wretched elf who had been the driving force behind this all? Unable to completely keep the anger out of his voice, he ground out, “And what of Polinas? Why have I not been graced by his presence as well as yours?”

Kalen looked sharply at his prisoner. He’d forgotten his original aim of making Elrohir angry until now, but hearing the tension in the other’s voice and seeing the naked hostility in the other’s eyes, he realized that he’d succeeded in spite of himself.

“Polinas left!” he said coldly, not realizing that his irritation was not only with his captive. In fact, it always bothered him that Polinas had vanished after leaving them a note one day saying that he was going to join Ritea—he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. But Kalen had never fully explored his feelings concerning Polinas’ departure, and thus was ready to turn his anger to Elrohir who was leaning forward with a scowl on his face.

“So, he took the coward’s way out and never faced his part in all this?” Elrohir accused. “He left you and Matias here alone to accept whatever penalty may come? For you know, sooner or later you will be found out, your treachery exposed, and you will be held responsible for what you have done. In truth, I do not understand how you could follow a vermin that would leave you to face the consequences alone!”

Kalen’s eyes narrowed in anger. How dare Elrohir call his friend a coward and vermin?! Elladan was the coward! “Take care with your words, Elrohir,” he warned. “I regret that you were caught up in all this, but I will not have you maligning one of the noblest elves I have ever known. He left because he could no longer live in this wretched world.”

“Noble!” Elrohir shot back in disbelief. “How can you call one ‘noble’ who goads his friends into attacking someone who, by their own admission, had done nothing wrong? I do not believe I have ever known of a more treacherous, wicked act! He lured you into attacking me with the pretext of hurting Elladan, and then abandoned you to whatever retribution ended up on your heads. That is no friend and certainly not one I would call ‘noble!’ In fact, hearing of his despicable character makes me question if he was even telling the truth in the first place of Elladan’s supposed incompetence. Maybe he had something to hide and was merely trying to shift the blame!”

Elrohir finished his rant and waited for the explosion. He knew he’d crossed the line when he saw the look on Kalen’s face go from anger to mindless fury. But regardless of what was to come, he felt pleased that he’d had his say. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he suspected that his supposition was true and was glad he’d voiced it. It made sense considering what he remembered of his brother’s personality and what Kalen had told him of Polinas—Kalen should think about what had possibly motivated his friend’s actions.

He didn’t have much time to consider that thought, though, for Kalen, overcome with rage, leapt forward and wrapped both hands around Elrohir’s neck, pressing down with all his might. As he crushed the life from the elf beneath him, he hissed, “Polinas was right to involve you in this! For you to accuse that noble, decent elf just tells me that you are just like your brother. When Elladan finds your broken body and knows the crushing despair of losing you...I will join Polinas and rejoice in your demise.”

Elrohir tried to pull away, but was unable to and after a short time, his struggles lessened and his vision began to fade as the air was choked from him. That would have been the end of the young elf, but just as he started to lose consciousness, Kalen saw his eyelids fluttering closed and realized with horror what he was doing. Sanity came back with a rush and he knew that, no, he didn’t want Elrohir dead just yet. They wanted Elladan to find his tortured, lifeless body. If he were to die now, Elladan would be spared that sight—something that Kalen just wasn’t willing to let happen. So, he’d have to wait until Elladan returned. Frustrated, the now coldly furious elf took his hands from Elrohir’s throat and with an angry growl, grabbed his shoulders, picking him up and slamming him into the ground with a shout, “Elladan must pay!”

The young lord’s head smashed against the ground with a whack!, nearly knocking him unconscious. Between the near-strangling and the blow to his head, Elrohir was finding it hard to keep his wits about him, but struggled against the pull of darkness as he realized with shock that Kalen’s violence was once more blending with memories of what he’d endured years ago. Even more incredible, though, was that he suddenly remembered being trapped in the clearing—not just a flickering glimpse of a memory, but the blow to the head at just the right moment had jarred loose his trapped memories and without warning, he remembered everything that had happened.

Kalen didn’t know what to make of his captive’s sudden silence as he fell limp in his hands. He knew that Elrohir wasn’t unconscious, but couldn’t decide just what the stunned look in his eyes meant. Still angry and upset, he decided that he really didn’t care and he quickly replaced the gag and blindfold and then unceremoniously drug him back to his box. He saw the bowl of food sitting on the ground and noted that Elrohir still hadn’t eaten, but decided that he also didn’t care about that! Any suffering on Elrohir’s part was just payment for what his family had done and Kalen found himself content for once to add to his discomfort.

After he’d been left once again in the darkness, Elrohir didn’t even notice at first that he was scrunched back in his box. He was too busy trying not to drown in the deluge of memories that washed over him. Not only the scene from his capture and torture, but everything that happened since…and everything that happened before raced through his mind. Thousands of years of memories that had been locked away were suddenly there for the taking and he reeled from the shock of their return.

For hours the young elf explored his memories and rejoiced in the returned sense of self that they gave him. No longer was he confused and lost. Instead he was overjoyed with the memories of his family, his friends, and the many wonderful times he’d experienced in his long lifetime. It was a gift?="" about="" information="" more="" for="" click="">gift">gift">gift beyond price to have them back and he was grateful that Kalen’s actions, painful as they’d been, had prompted their return.

As he sifted through his past, he thought about the time that Kalen had described—the mission when his father and brother had been killed. Elrohir remembered it well. He had not been able to accompany Elladan since he’d been slightly wounded in a previous mission and their father had wanted him to stay home and recuperate. He remembered how angry he’d been with his father for keeping him from Elladan’s side—the twins preferred to train and fight as a pair and he feared for Elladan’s safety if he wasn’t there to watch his back. Of course, when Elladan returned and told of how they’d encountered orcs, Elrohir was even more upset with his father since he hadn’t been there to help. He’d long ago overcome that anger, of course, but what was left behind had been a sadness that several friends had been lost because Polinas had acted as a fool and had given away the location of the elves before they were ready to fight. Yes, he had guessed right and it had been Polinas who, for whatever reason, had run forward against Elladan’s orders and had warned the orcs of their presence. Many of the other warriors in Elladan’s party had told Elrohir later of their disgust with his actions and he had never been welcome on patrol again. Elrohir wondered how Polinas had explained that to Kalen and Matias. Clearly he had twisted the truth in other things…he probably never even told them that he’d been dismissed as one of the Rivendell Guards.

Elrohir lay there for some time and had to work hard not to let his fury with Polinas’ lies overtake him. Not now when he had so many other things to think about! After awhile, he calmed down and reflected on the actions of Kalen and Matias, two elves that he’d always counted among his friends. They had been so cruel, but had done it out of a misguided belief that they were honoring their lost family. He couldn’t bring himself to hate them. Yes, he hated what they’d done, but overall, he could only feel desperately sad for the two unhappy beings.

The next morning when Elrohir woke up and realized afresh that he had all his memories, he remembered to his dismay that the sorrows his new awareness brought back would once again be a part of his daily thoughts. No longer could the young elf put aside the overwhelming grief of his mother’s fate. Or the despair that all elves felt over the encroaching darkness that crept over their beloved Arda. Nor could he disregard the pain that his recent adventures must have caused his family and friends. When he thought of what his family must be going through due to his current disappearance, he was beset by such a feeling of sadness that he almost allowed his grim thoughts to overcome him. Only by focusing on ways to extricate himself from this mess could he stop his gloomy thoughts from overpowering him.

While this new awareness was occupying Elrohir’s thoughts, however, a thoroughly unexpected awareness was seeping into Kalen’s being as well. The other elf found to his utter dismay that the violent rage and anger that had sustained him and allowed him to commit appallingly cruel acts, had completely deserted him just after his attack on Elrohir. After he’d left the room, still at that point full of righteous anger, he’d rushed to his quarters and dunked his head in a water bucket to cool his flushed face before someone else saw and questioned him. The water had done its job?="">job">job">job admirably and he was able to finally calm himself after awhile. But then…then to his consternation came the doubts all over again. He had hoped to rekindle his burning rage by making Elrohir angry and had thought he’d succeeded too! But then…why did he feel only that empty, hollow sensation of despair? It couldn’t be that he believed Elrohir’s accusation of Polinas! No! His friend did not deceive them! It just…couldn’t be true…

But after several more days passed by and things only got worse—days full of crippling self-doubt, Kalen was about to explode. He dreaded going to see Elrohir, for his captive’s eyes would seem to bore into his very soul even if he didn’t remove the blindfold. And the feelings of guilt that those eyes inspired threatened to overwhelm him.

He tried to think it through and logically determine why he was feeling so wretched. When they’d caught and beaten Elrohir years ago, it had been with the thought of punishing Elladan and in the passion of the moment, Kalen had been able to push aside his friendship with Elrohir for the ‘nobler’ cause of vengeance. He had ignored that it was his friend he was hurting. Polinas’s goading and hate-filled words had been critical in helping him overcome his reticence. But now Polinas was gone and Matias certainly wasn’t helping anything with his own looks of reproach and heavy sighs. But if he changed his mind now and admitted that what he was doing was wrong, then he’d have to admit that what they’d done years ago was even more despicable. How could he live with himself if he accepted that as truth? No! There had to be another answer!

As Kalen felt the guilt grow day by day without that answer, he became even more short-tempered. Remorse made him angry and he unfairly blamed Elrohir for making him feel that way. Although Elrohir never said another word in reproof, Kalen just knew that the other elf must be judging him and he had to find a way to stop it!

Thus, Kalen thought long and hard before coming up with a plan that he decided would keep Elrohir from blaming him. Having worked through all the details in his mind, one night Kalen carefully pulled a small pouch of herbs out of a secret hiding spot and resolutely took it with him into the room that housed Elrohir’s box. Opening the crate, he looked in, just for a moment losing his resolve as he once again saw his old friend, hot, limp, and exhausted from his unending ordeal. He turned his head away and swallowed hard. This was harder than he’d thought.

Then he squared his shoulders and with firm resolve, pulled Elrohir out of the box and unceremoniously dragged him out onto the ground. The elven lord lay unmoving. No sun for weeks, cramped, underfed, trapped in a stifling box, he was unable for to find the energy to even try to move.

Kalen turned him on his back and removed the blindfold, hoping for once to see the hatred that he secretly knew he deserved. It would make what he was about to do so much easier.

But Elrohir didn’t oblige him. After blinking rapidly in the flickering light of a torch, the bedraggled elf looked up at Kalen with eyes that only beheld understanding and profound sadness.

“Stop looking at me like that!” ordered Kalen. “Stop it!! Just...” he faltered as his voice cracked. For a moment he was bathing in shame and self-loathing as he battled his conscience. “...stop it,” he finished weakly.

Shaking with unwanted emotion, Kalen pulled out the small pouch and carefully measured out a precise dosage. He would do this! If Elrohir was drugged senseless, he couldn’t hold Kalen accountable for his suffering and moreover wouldn’t even know that he was suffering, right!? Pulling down Elrohir’s gag as he always did when feeding the young elf, he moved to stuff the herbs in his mouth when he noted that his captive’s eyes grow wide with panic.

Instead of continuing, Kalen pulled back in surprise. During his entire captivity and even years before when he’d been tortured, Elrohir had not once showed any sign of fear, but now it was clear that the elven lord was terrified. How could he know what these herbs would do?

Elrohir nodded as he roughly pulled his jaw away from Kalen’s hand. He knew exactly what those particular herbs were. He’d been subjected to their effects often enough. They were the ones that stole his self will—the one’s he’d been given to make him compliant and obedient. He’d rather be beaten senseless than be forced to take them again and lose all sense of self!

Not wanting to show the other any weakness but unable to keep his voice from shaking slightly, Elrohir begged, “Please...no. Do…do not do this.”

Kalen hesitated at first, but then remembered why he was doing this. He must stay strong if his family was to ever receive justice and he knew he couldn’t continue if he was forced to endure constant feelings of guilt. So, disregarding Elrohir’s struggles, he sat on his chest to pin him down and grasped his jaw with one hand, trying to pry his mouth open while he forced the herbs in.

But the elf beneath him wasn’t making things easy. Elrohir was terribly weak from his long captivity, but he used strength born from desperation to fight against the soul-stealing herbs. Kalen would have to knock him unconscious before he’d swallow one speck of that hated potion!

The outcome of the struggle was probably predictable. There was no way that Elrohir, weakened and bound, could have won against the strong stablemaster, but the fight was interrupted when Matias, drawn by the thrashing sounds, pushed cautiously into the room.

“I am giving him something to keep him under control. He is becoming too aggressive,” lied Kalen with a touch of defiance. There was no way he was going to admit to his little brother the real reason he wanted Elrohir drugged was to quell his own, ever-increasing doubts.

Matias looked at what his brother held and gasped, “Not the cowler root potion. While effective on horses, you know it should never be given to an elf!”

Kalen glared at his brother for questioning him. So what if the secret potion that his great-grandfather had developed for unruly horses was untested on elves? He told himself that there was no reason to expect that it wouldn’t have the same effect. Since it could make even the most headstrong horses behave, it should make Elrohir compliant as well. Yes, it was a good idea!

Still unsuccessfully trying to pry Elrohir’s mouth open with one hand while trying to hold him down at the same time, Kalen addressed his brother with exasperation, “You might offer to help, you know!”

But Matias wanted no part of his brother’s plan. “Kalen, no! We do not have enough experience with this. It may kill him!” said the younger elf firmly.

Kalen almost laughed in disbelief—after all, it was their intention to kill Elrohir anyway, why quibble about how? But he knew that pointing out that little fact would not help things right now. No...he was sure that his brother was wavering on that point as well. But he really wanted to use these drugs, which he was certain would cut down on those crippling feelings of guilt that he faced daily. So he answered his brother, “You saw how effective it was with Raumo. He followed our commands and attacked his own master...we can just use a smaller dose and get the same results. Elrohir will no longer fight us.”

The elf in question actually stopped fighting for a moment when he took in Kalen’s words. Raumo had been drugged? As he realized what that meant, he experienced his first real sense of joy in ages...his beloved horse had not betrayed him after all! He knew how those herbs stole one’s will. He absolutely knew! Raumo hadn’t attacked him by choice, but had been forced to do so due to the will-stealing drugs!

His hesitation almost cost him, though. When he paused in his fight, Kalen took the opportunity to trap his head under his forearm and forced his mouth open.

He would have been doomed, though, except that Matias had had enough. Yanking the pouch out of Kalen’s grasp, he ordered, “Enough! For once you will listen to me. We will not do this!”

Trying to grab the pouch back while still trying to control his increasingly panicked prisoner, Kalen finally became fed up with the fight and with a heavy blow to the temple, subdued the struggling elf beneath him.

As Elrohir lay dazed on the ground, Kalen glared at Matias, whom he knew was not about to give him back the pouch. So much for ridding himself of those feelings of guilt! Angrily, he turned his back on his brother and, grabbing Elrohir by the back of his shirt, dragged him across the floor, not caring that he scraped up his chin in the process. Then he shoved his prisoner back into the box, slammed it shut, and walked away, his very posture defying Matias to say one word about his harsh treatment!

After Elrohir had been returned to his little makeshift prison, the two brothers, not meeting each other’s eyes, locked up the room and then left in silence, each battling his own thoughts.

It wasn’t until they were safely inside their quarters that Matias approached his brother. “Kalen,” he said gravely, “We cannot do this. I know I have gone along with you in this matter up to now, but every fiber of my being is telling me that this is wrong. Tonight’s incident merely confirms it in my mind.” He paused for a long moment to take a deep breath before concluding firmly, “We must let him go.”

Kalen had been expecting such a declaration from his brother. Matias had been voicing doubts all along and it had seemed only a matter of time before they overpowered his need for revenge. Thus, his words were not a surprise, but they nonetheless were hard for Kalen to hear for they only reinforced his own misgivings. If it was wrong to hold Elrohir now, then he’d have to admit that what they’d done to him in the past was far worse—luring him into a trap, the horrific beating that had left him without memories and nearly dead, and abandoning him to his fate with the dwarves which led to years of slavery. Yes, if this latest kidnapping and imprisonment was wrong, then he’d have to accept that he’d everything he’d done had been a betrayal of a friend for a false cause, something too horrible to consider. So, he stubbornly refused to agree with Matias and instead responded coldly.

“You know why we do this,” Kalen said. “We agreed long ago that this was the only way to properly avenge the loss of our family. This was the only way to make Elladan suffer the same sense of loss. Elrohir is an unfortunate victim, but there are always innocents lost during conflicts.”

“During conflicts!” repeated Matias with contempt. “Aye, if he was hit by a stray arrow during a battle, I would agree. But you know that this is not the same. We are the aggressors. And we are the ones that are continuing this ‘conflict.’ A conflict, I might add, that the other side does not know exists. I…” he swallowed hard before finishing, “I do not believe any longer that what we do is honorable. We must accept that fact and end this abomination.”

“What would you have us do? Let him go and expect that everything would be forgiven?” Kalen barked with disdain. “Our lives as we know them would be over,” he concluded harshly.

The younger brother looked at the floor as he replied in a voice just louder than a whisper, “I do not care. I do not wish to continue this life as it is, anyway. Not only is it without joy, but now you say we must add to our burden by finishing the dirty task we started years ago and kill our friend. No Kalen, I will not do it,” he finished, his voice increasing in volume with renewed determination.

With that declaration, both brothers knew that the battle lines had been drawn. Matias had now stated that he would not condone Elrohir’s death, while Kalen was still determined to see it through. Acknowledging the contest of wills with a shared look, the brothers said no more about it that night and the two went to bed, although neither was able to get much sleep.

It was a day and a half before Elrohir was visited again by either of the brothers—an intense time for all three of them. Elrohir was once more trapped in his box, uncomfortable and on edge as he awaited his fate, knowing that one way or another his current situation would be ending very soon. All the while, the two brothers spent the day trying to decide the very question of what that end would be. Matias was quite clear in his mind that he wanted to release their captive, but he decided that it was important that he get Kalen’s acceptance first and wasn’t sure how to obtain that. Kalen, on the other hand, still wasn’t convinced that they should let him go. Again, to do so would be to negate all they had done. They would be left with no vengeance, no justice—only an overwhelming sense of guilt. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Right? Elladan still had to suffer for his ‘crimes.’

Back and forth Kalen went, one minute leaning toward letting Elrohir go, the next vowing to see this through to the end. He avoided seeing his brother when possible, hating the look of censure he saw in the other’s eyes. Why couldn’t Matias hold fast to their plans of retribution? Why must he be the one to carry the burden? He just wanted this whole thing over!

Neither of the brothers had been able to come to any conclusion by the time night fell, and so neither could bring himself to visit Elrohir that night, leaving the poor elf to suffer in lonely solitude.

It was mid-morning the next day when Kalen finally cracked, not because of something Matias had said, but due to a simple encounter with another elf. He had been working diligently in the stables, trying to distract himself with hard work, when Pelondas had entered. Kalen knew the young novice was not only the cousin of his best friend, Polinas, but also remembered how the younger elf viewed Elrohir as his personal hero and thus Kalen noted his presence with irritation—the last thing he needed was another reminder of the dilemma he was facing. The other elf hadn’t stayed long as he was merely asking to have his horse prepared for an extended trip. He briefly mentioned that he was starting out the next day with a group of warriors on one more search for their missing friend and wanted to be ready to go at first light. That was the sum total of the conversation between the two, but what got to Kalen was the look on the other’s face. It was the overwhelming bleakness in the other elf that just tore at Kalen. He had never especially liked or disliked Pelondas—indeed the other elf was really too young for him to have associated with often—but he nonetheless was greatly troubled by the other’s look of utter despair. Pelondas clearly didn’t expect to find Elrohir or if he did, didn’t expect that he would ever be the same inspiring warrior of the past, but still he was unwavering in his resolve to do all he could to try to find him. Kalen felt sick that he was the one causing this visible misery in another elf—one that was in no way connected to his desire for revenge. How many others were hurting due to the uncertainty of their young lord’s fate?

After Pelondas had left, Kalen found himself unable to do the simplest task as all his thoughts revolved around what to do with Elrohir. A couple of hours passed as the disturbed elf paced in the stables, almost ill with contained tension. Should he let Elrohir go? Should he wait and then kill him after Elladan’s return for the most painful effect? Should he simply kill him now? Oh, what should he do?! Back and forth he paced, his movements becoming faster and more erratic as he felt like he’d explode with the pressure of making this life-altering decision. He wished desperately for the rage that had sustained him for so many years, but it had thoroughly deserted him in this time of need. He certainly could have used Polinas’ intense fury right about now. Why had he left him to finish this task alone? Maybe Elrohir had been right in his judgment…NO! He would not accept that! So why couldn’t Matias be more supportive in his place? And for that matter, why couldn’t Elrohir be as hateful as his cowardly twin? He had been grateful for Elrohir’s earlier anger, but now his captive refused to show the slightest bit of ill temper and instead only looked at him with heartbreaking understanding. He made it impossible to stay mad at him! Oh….why did his father and brother have to die in the first place and leave him with this wretched life?!

It was after he asked himself this last question that Kalen made his decision. As soon as he heard Polinas’ answer in his mind—because Elladan had been a stupid, inept, self-serving coward—a decision solidified in his mind. It was so simple. If he was to ever find peace, he’d have to do what he’d started out to do and carry out his plans to avenge his family. He knew that he couldn’t, however, stomach the thought of waiting and facing this strain day after day while awaiting Elladan’s return, so he decided that he’d have to just take care of things right away.

Thoroughly relieved to have made a decision, Kalen rushed into the room holding Elrohir’s box and pulled open the door of the crate, not caring that it was broad daylight. If someone came in on him and saw what he was doing, he no longer cared. As long as he avenged the wrongful deaths of his family, he would be content with whatever punishment was given him. With that thought in mind, he pulled Elrohir out of the box, rolled him on his back, pinned him down, ripped off his blindfold and gag—he owed Elrohir that much—and then pulled his dagger.

Keeping himself as impassive and unfeeling as possible, Kalen held his dagger above Elrohir’s chest, ready to plunge it into his heart. He thought he was ready for this final step, this final betrayal of his old friend. He had convinced himself that this was the only way to end it. He was undone, however, by the quiet way that Elrohir lay beneath him, not struggling or even saying anything. The expression on the bruised face that looked up at him said it all—Elrohir knew what was about to happen, but was desperately sad for Kalen.

Breathing hard as if he’d just run for hours, Kalen asked in a voice made harsh by emotion, “You know how this must end and why?”

Elrohir shook his head as he stared into his captor’s eyes. “Nay,” he answered quietly, “It does not have to end this way. It will solve nothing and you will not find the peace you desire.”

Elrohir knew his life hung by a thread. Anything he said might push Kalen over the edge and he would use the gleaming dagger held in his shaking hand. Even lying there with death imminent, though, Elrohir couldn’t bring himself to hate Kalen. He was almost angry at himself for feeling it, but the only thing he could muster was an overpowering sorrow for his old friends. Kalen and Matias were so wrong in what they’d done and had been so sadistic and cruel—even now Elrohir couldn’t think about the vicious beating without turning cold with dread. And the years that followed? The merciless eternity of the years of slavery? They were all Kalen and Matias’s fault, too, but Elrohir still couldn’t hate the brothers. He knew how grief could twist a soul into something nearly unrecognizable. After his mother’s brutal torture, he had had the loving support of his family to help him survive with his spirit intact. But if Elladan had also been lost and then his father as well…would he now be in Kalen’s place? About to commit an act that would be unthinkable in better times? It was with pure relief that he decided he wouldn’t—no, he would not be able to betray a friend—but he still had to admit that he could understand what had brought his one-time friends down the road to where they were now.

All those thoughts had flown through Elrohir’s mind in an instant as he waited for Kalen’s response. When none was forthcoming and the other merely stared back at him with hollow, desperate eyes, Elrohir decided to take a chance and try to reach his old friend.

“I will not fight you,” he said calmly. “But I do ask that you consider these words. I…since our encounter days ago, I have remembered my past life and thus have remembered details of the patrol where your father and brother died. Details that I believe you need to hear. Elladan spoke of that mission to me after he returned. He told me…well, as I had surmised, he told me that it was indeed Polinas whose foolhardiness betrayed the company, not his own. It was a difficult time for Elladan afterward, as he grieves bitterly for the death of any of his warriors, but that time was harder than most as he felt the deaths were unnecessary. For you see, it was Polinas, not Elladan, who caused Dahvos’ death through incompetence. He rushed forward before the word was given and Dahvos, as his swordpartner, followed. That is how Dahvos was killed. He died bravely, trying to defend his reckless partner. And your adar…he disobeyed Elladan’s order to stand fast when he saw your brother in trouble and was thus cut down as well. Elladan told me that it was absolute suicide to try to save Dahvos, but your adar could not be stopped. Oh Kalen, all the deaths that day were so unnecessary and it troubled Elladan for quite some time afterward. If only you’d spoken to him and not merely listened to Polinas’ poisonous words, you would have known this and understood the truth of the matter.”

“You lie,” whispered Kalen, but without conviction as he considered Elrohir’s words. What if Elrohir was right? What if Polinas had goaded them into a perverted sense of vengeance out of his own desire to remain blameless? The thought was too horrid to contemplate…but at the same time, he knew that he had suspected that was the truth ever since Elrohir had thrown that out as a possibility days ago.

Elrohir saw the indecision in the other’s eyes and pressed on, “Kalen, I…I do not pretend that I wish to die now at your hand…and I can understand that you might believe that I would tell falsehoods in order to preserve my life. But…I promise you that this is no lie. Elladan never betrayed your brother and father.”

The blade suspended above Elrohir’s chest began to shake tremendously as Kalen heard and felt the truth in Elrohir’s words. Oh Valar! How could this be?! Everything he’d done he’d justified by the righteousness of meting out justice. Instead, his worst nightmares had just come true and he had to accept that he had tortured his friend for naught! It had been barely acceptable to persecute his friend to avenge his family. Indeed, although he’d never told Matias, he had fought long and hard with Polinas regarding that very point. But in the end the other elf had won and Kalen had agreed. And once agreeing, he had bought into the plan wholeheartedly, for to do less would mean that he questioned what they were doing. He had had to tell himself that it was the right thing, or he’d have never been able to carry it out. Now, as he was faced head on with the Polinas’ treachery and his own resulting guilt, he found he could scarcely breathe.

It was at that inauspicious moment that Matias, who had been looking for his brother, flew through the door, suspecting the worst.

He needn’t have worried, though. As he skidded to his knees beside his brother, Kalen numbly handed over the dagger and choked out, “I cannot do this.” Then the older brother slumped over, his face buried in his hands.

Matias was thrown off-guard by his brother’s actions. A few minutes earlier he’d been overcome by an impending sense of doom and had raced to the stables, somehow knowing that Kalen was about to kill Elrohir. Thus, he’d fully expected to have to fight his brother and the unexpected capitulation left him uncertain how to proceed as he tried to rearrange his thinking.

For a long moment, no one moved, each one frozen in place at the unforeseen turn of events. Then, with a firm look of determination on his face, Matias reached over to Elrohir and oh-so-gently turned him over and cut through the bonds that had held him for so many weeks.

Although freed, Elrohir at first couldn’t find the strength to finally move his arms as the muscles refused to respond. Seeing his predicament, Matias carefully rearranged the stiff limbs and rolled Elrohir over onto his back before starting to massage his arms and legs. This went on for many minutes as Elrohir closed his eyes against the pain of the movement until he at last felt some sensation return and shakily tried to sit up.

He wasn’t very successful and gratefully accepted Matias’ help as the other murmured, “Here, let me assist you.”

Once he was sitting up, Elrohir carefully stretched his arms, reveling in the idea that he was no longer a prisoner….or was he?

Not expecting an answer from Kalen, who was still slumped over with his head in his hands, Elrohir faced Matias and asked, “What happens now? Am I free?”

Matias knew that there was a whole wealth of questions that now needed to be answered. He, too, would like to know ‘what happens now,’ but answered the immediate need, “Aye, you are no longer our prisoner.”

Elrohir blinked and didn’t make any move to get up. In the first place, he wasn’t sure he could, but in the second, he was a bit suspicious. Just like that, after everything he’d been through, he was free? Just moments ago he was about to be killed…and now it was all over? He could just walk away?

Seeing the hesitation, Matias almost impatiently said again, “You are no longer a prisoner…go!”

Suddenly deciding that he needed to take this chance to leave if he could, Elrohir got onto his knees and then shakily forced himself to stand, catching himself against the wall of the stables as he almost lost his balance. He stood there for a long moment before he felt steady enough to move away and stand in front of the brothers. Even then, it was difficult to stand without support. He felt so weak.

For what seemed like an eternity, no one said a word. Kalen remained on the ground, his hands covering his face and Matias knelt beside his brother, unsure of what to do. Elrohir knew that he should be taking this opportunity to run as far away as he could, but found himself unable to leave just yet. Somehow, he was hoping that someone would say something to help him make sense of everything he had been through. Surely there was some purpose that would justify all the horror?

But there were no illuminating truths available for the elven lord. None that would help explain away all that he’d suffered. Finally, when no one said anything—Elrohir because he didn’t know what to say to those that he had once called ‘friend’ and the brothers because they knew that there was no way to undo the horror of what they’d done—Elrohir turned slowly and began to walk to the stable door.

Step by step he went, each one getting easier as the unused muscles began to loosen up. He wanted to get away to somewhere that he could think. But before he reached the door, he was stopped by a call.

The young elf turned and looked back. It wasn’t Matias who had called him, but Kalen. Kalen, who was looking up at him with an air of one that had been completely broken.

“I…I have no reason to hope that you will ever forgive me, nor do I expect or deserve it,” said the shaking, pale elf. “But I must tell you…I am so desperately sorry,” he finished, his words barely audible as he choked on a sob.

Elrohir said nothing. He wanted to forgive his old friends. He really did. But how could he forget the heartache and misery they caused his family? Or the vicious brutality he himself had endured at their hands? That horrible beating they’d given him (the fists...the taunts...the whips...the knife!) and the years of suffering that followed, all based on a mistaken belief that his twin had caused the death of their brother and father. A belief that, even if true, would never have justified what they did to him. He could understand what brought Kalen and Matias to this point. Their family had been destroyed and they had been told it was Elladan’s fault. So, he could see how they might want to avenge those lost—after all, as he had rationalized before, hadn’t he and Elladan focused on avenging their mother for centuries after she left? But he also clearly saw the difference in their actions. He and Elladan had fought against orcs, unquestionably vile beings whose only purpose was evil. Kalen and Matias, however, had betrayed a friend who was guilty of nothing. Elrohir knew that he could never do that. No, not even if someone caused Elladan’s death could he turn against an innocent friend. That was just…wrong. So, he was left without knowing how to respond to Kalen. In the end, he just hated this whole situation and wanted nothing more than to find his family and have them hold him for days on end!

His eyes full of sympathy but not knowing what to say, Elrohir finally nodded once to acknowledge the sentiment and without further word, turned to leave his long-time prison.

He had almost made it through the door when he heard his name be called again, this time by Matias, “Elrohir…”

Sighing, Elrohir turned again and looked at Matias expectantly. The other elf pushed himself to his feet and moved forward, saying almost apologetically, “Uhm…I, uh, thought you might wish to change before you left.”

Elrohir stared at Matias for a moment in confusion before he realized what the younger brother was saying. How could he forget—he was wearing only his night clothes and no shoes. His clothes certainly were respectable enough even though they were positively filthy, but they were bound to attract attention and at this point he didn’t want to have to stop to answer any questions before he found his family. Once more nodding, this time to signal his agreement, he leaned hard against the door frame while Matias ran to get some other clothes.

Matias returned within minutes with a comfortable set of work clothes and shoes and then without comment, helped his shaky young lord to quickly change.

Enjoying the feeling of being dressed for the first time in nearly six weeks, Elrohir gave Matias a quick, sad smile and said quietly, “My thanks,” and then once more tried to think of what else to say. But the situation was just too complicated. After several awkward moments, he decided that his tired, worn out thoughts just couldn’t come up with the right words at the moment, and so he shrugged with a touch of frustration and then turned again and finally walked away.

The stables were not too far from his home, so it didn’t take too long for Elrohir to cover the distance, speaking to no one as, one foot in front of the other, he tiredly walked the familiar trails. He did pass a few elves on the trail who called out in greeting to him, obviously thinking he was his twin, but other than a short nod of acknowledgement, Elrohir didn’t take time to respond. He only wanted to get home to his family—into the arms of those who could help him find some kind of purpose to this whole, sordid mess.

As Elrohir entered the family’s private courtyard—the same one that his brothers had used when they’d brought him home so many months ago—his heart quickened as he shifted his thoughts away from troubling questions and instead envisioned the upcoming reunion. He couldn’t wait to see his father and Elladan! And maybe Arwen and his grandparents were still there as well. And Glorfindel. And Erestor. And all his friends. Everyone that he now remembered! He only wished that Estel could be there as well, but he didn’t believe that his younger brother would have had time to return from his latest adventures with the rangers, and so he accepted that that particular reunion would have to wait until later.

Letting himself into the house quietly, he first made his way to the family’s private quarters, desperate to see them. But the rooms were all empty, forcing Elrohir to wearily debate where to look next. He finally decided to make his way to the council chambers, which was the most logical place where he might find his father and brother.

As Elrohir walked slowly through the public areas of his home—for he hadn’t the energy to move any faster and his sore muscles still protested every movement—he passed by many elves, but was once again mistaken for his brother. He was mildly amused that they all made the same mistake—obviously everyone was ‘seeing’ who they expected to see, instead of even considering that their lost lord had found his own way home. As before, though, Elrohir only nodded in response and didn’t bother to correct anyone, for he wanted the first real news of his return to belong to his family. The welcoming words from the others distressed him, however, as it became clear from the surprised greetings that Elladan was not expected to be home. Elrohir was bitterly disappointed to realize that his twin was not currently in Rivendell. Where would he have gone? What could possibly have called Elladan away while he was missing? Had Elladan even tried to look for him? Maybe his twin was tired of all the drama that seemed to cloud his life over the past few years and had given up on him. Maybe he no longer cared. It was a thoroughly depressing thought.

As weak and run down as he could ever remember being, for a moment the young elf allowed himself to become distraught and believe that Elladan had simply moved on with his life and pushed aside thoughts about him. He felt a trace of tears in his eyes before he brusquely wiped them away, telling himself that he was allowing the stress of recent events to cloud his thinking. Of course his twin missed him, he scolded himself! He was being stupid. Elladan had probably been called away to do the realm’s business as one of its lords. Or maybe, maybe he was out somewhere searching for him. Yes, that was probably where Elladan was! After a deep breath, Elrohir nodded to himself and once more turned his focus on his reunion with his father.

Continuing to trudge through the halls, Elrohir was just congratulating himself that he’d managed to get all the way to the outer doors of the council chambers without being stopped when he heard a surprised call from behind him, “Elladan, what are you doing home? You were not due for another week at the earliest!”

Elrohir turned to behold his father’s advisor at the end of the hall, heading rapidly toward him. He was the first “family member” that Elrohir had seen, so his presence filled Elrohir with a genuine sense of warmth and comfort, but Elrohir had to be honest with himself that he was becoming desperate to see his father. Conceding that it probably wasn’t befitting an elven warrior, but nonetheless admitting it to himself, Elrohir decided that he just wanted his ada! Everything that had happened to him was too confusing and overwhelming and he knew that no one could help him sort it all out better than his own ada. Thus, forcing himself not to sigh audibly—he just wasn’t up to sparring with Erestor at the moment and he certainly wasn’t about to explain that he wasn’t Elladan—Elrohir paused a moment before answering politely, “Mae govannen, Erestor.”

Not wasting time on pleasantries, Elrond’s advisor continued forward, hoping to block the door before Elladan could reach it. He had left the council chambers just moments ago on a short task for Elrond, so he knew why Belder had brought the human trader and thus also knew that Elladan’s presence could be disastrous if he found out that Robard held Elrohir. If there was one thing that Erestor was sure of, it was that Elladan would stop at nothing to rescue his twin and he might not act wisely under the circumstances. So he was dismayed when the younger elf turned his back on him after his short greeting and quickly pulled the door open.

Ignoring the anxious elf behind him, Elrohir walked into the room and started to smile in greeting…only to be confronted with the face of one of his old tormentors.

The next moments were full of disorder, beginning with Elrohir stopping abruptly to stare at the man who had sold him to Lord Hebert years ago, and then followed by his father physically pulling him from the room. Once Elrohir shook off his shock at seeing the slave trader and realized that his father, like everyone else, had mistaken him for his twin, he yanked his father out of the room and then blocked the door.

………And so it was that Elrohir ended up outside the council chambers, facing his shocked father with amused affection dancing in his eyes.

“Elrohir?” gasped Elrond again as he held his son at arm’s length. He knew what his eyes were telling him, but he simply couldn’t believe that it was truly his lost son standing there. The young elf before him was not confused, not mindless, not lost. He appeared reasonably healthy, clear thinking, and...and vibrantly alive! But both Galadriel and he had sensed that Elrohir’s spirit had fled after the remembered attack and it was a near certainty that he would not have been able to find his way back without some kind of intervention, and who else could have provided that? Thus, it couldn’t be Elrohir, could it? His eyes had to be deceiving him...showing him what he wished to see instead of reality. It had to be Elladan playing a thoughtless trick on him. His eyes began to cloud with anger as the cruelty of such a deception overwhelmed him.

But then his son smiled at him—a quiet, winsome smile that brought Elrond up short. It was once that he knew so well. It was the one that Elrohir would give him to express love, tenderness, and a touch of apology. It was the one that said, “I am well, and am sorry I caused you concern.” It wasn’t the kind of smile he’d ever seen on Elladan. No...Elladan would have teasingly announced his return or would have found some other, more energetic way of proclaiming his homecoming. This gentle approach, this smile, could only come from Elrohir. He had to accept the truth. Beyond all possibility, beyond all hope, his son was back...whole.

“It is you...” Elrond affirmed in wonder. Then completely forgetting the group of elves and the human awaiting him inside his council chambers, the Lord of Rivendell finally allowed himself to believe the miracle in front of him and pulled the young elf back into his arms. He closed his eyes to better appreciate the sensation of holding his son. He felt the strong heartbeat but also the trembling of utter weariness. He smelled the slight musk of one who had been hot and sweaty for many days. And he heard deep breaths, suddenly turned ragged as the emotion of the moment finally caught up with Elrohir as well. “Ada,” he barely heard, as Elrohir tightened his hold.

Still not opening his eyes, Elrond reveled in all those sensations as he felt the warm, loving arms of his son around him. “Oh my dear son,” he whispered with utter contentment as he strengthened his own hold on his boy. Elrohir was home.

Time stopped as father and son stayed locked in a tight embrace, oblivious to the rest of the world as they held on to each other. Elrohir rejoiced in the secure feeling of those loving arms enveloping him-in his father’s arms, he was safe. Nothing more could harm him. And Elrond was still stunned at finding his son so unexpectedly returned to him. He was overwhelmingly happy, but a small part of him also held a fear that this might just be a dream and that, if he let Elrohir go, he might suddenly awaken to find the familiar darkness of loss. Thus Elrond was especially hard pressed to release his son-as far as he was concerned, the rest of Rivendell could take care of itself. For now, his only thoughts were for the child that was miraculously before him.

At long last, though, Elrohir gently pushed back and untangled himself from his father’s arms. The two then gazed at each other, neither one able to find the words they needed to say. Elrohir had so much to tell his father, but couldn’t imagine where he should start. And Elrond had so many questions-so many things he wanted to know. Finally, as he gazed into the clear eyes of his son, the one foremost on his mind just had to be asked.

Elrohir grasped his father’s hand and gently squeezed. "Aye, Ada, I do indeed," he said with a tired smile.

At those words, Elrond bowed his head and breathed deeply-just to have Elrohir back would have been cause for rejoicing, but to also find him fully restored was pure miracle and he fought an urge to weep. "Thank the Valar," he whispered and then looked back up at his son. "But how? Elrohir, where have you been?" he asked.

Elrohir shrugged slightly and grimaced, not quite knowing where to start. Yes, he desperately wanted his father’s help in finding a purpose to his suffering, but now that he was facing him, realized that he wasn’t up to walking that shadowy path just yet. Instead, he chose to deflect the question for now and said, "It is a rather long story, Ada. But first...first there is something I must know."

With his father’s encouraging nod, he asked with an unhappy frown, "The man in your chambers…what is he doing here?"

The nasty trader was the furthest thing from Elrond’s mind, so he didn’t answer for a moment as his mind changed gears. Thinking about it now, it became obvious that Elrohir had known Robard. But how could he? Wishing he knew about their past history before he responded, he nonetheless answered honestly, "Belder came across him in Willowpond, where there were rumors of him finding a wounded elf. From the description, we believed it might be you and were questioning him."

The young elf lord looked down for a moment, trying to keep his emotions in check as he worked through what this might mean. Just seeing the man had brought up so many unwanted memories-memories that he really didn’t feel like facing just now. But he wasn’t his father’s son for nothing and within a short time, conceded that regardless of his wishes, he would have to find a way to deal with the horrid man.

Thus, when Elrohir looked back up, he seemed to be perfectly calm. But Elrond noted that despite a firm control, there was still the memory of past hurt in his son’s face. Hurt that he so desperately wanted to make go away. He reached out and took Elrohir’s hand and started to say that he would take care of the trader later, but his son pulled away and pursued his questions, "But what is he doing here? Belder could have questioned him in Willowpond, could he not?"

Elrond shook his head slightly as he thought about his response. He didn’t really want to discuss the sordid man’s greed with his newly returned son. He had no idea what Elrohir’s state of mind was and didn’t want to upset him, but whatever the consequences, he knew Elrohir deserved the truth. He looked straight at his son and said matter-of-factly, "He would not tell Belder anything. He said he would only negotiate with one in charge and required payment before he would divulge anything. Thus Belder brought him here to speak to me."

"I see," said the young elf in a tight voice. Then he added, "Could the elf he spoke of be Elladan? I understand that he is not currently here."

Elrond started in surprise. He hadn’t considered that Elladan might be the one in trouble. He thought back to all the man had said and reluctantly admitted, "He did not specify exactly when he came across the elf. Indeed," he added with a touch of alarm, "he said the only word the elf had spoken was "Dan," so...it is possible that he has found your brother."

"Dan," Elrohir repeated through clenched teeth. "That is all I said in his presence."

Confused, Elrond asked, "What do you mean? Elrohir, what is your history with this man?"

Elrond could see the battle Elrohir once more waged to keep his emotions in check before he answered in a voice carefully devoid of feeling, "He is the slave trader who took me across the continent and sold me to Lord Hebert. And although I suppose he may have found Elladan...or even some other elf…I do not believe this to be the case. Knowing him as I do, I believe he heard Belder asking questions about me and, remembering me from before, used this opportunity for further gain. Of course, I imagine that he failed to mention to you that it was years ago that this all happened and that he had sold me in the meantime."

A million questions flew through Elrond’s mind as he sifted through all of the implications of Elrohir’s words, but his shock at Elrohir’s return was at last wearing off and his instincts as a healer finally reasserted themselves. Before considering what to do about Robard, he realized he had a more immediate need. First and by far the most important, he needed to see to Elrohir’s well-being. His son may not be gravely injured, but from the utterly weary stance and the thin, bruised look of his face, it was apparent that the young elf could use some careful attention. So now that Elrohir’s account suggested that the greedy man was no more than an opportunistic extortionist, thoughts of him could be put aside. He could be dealt with once Elrohir had been taken care of.

"Elrohir," he said gently, "I will see to him later, but for now I would have you come with me to the infirmary. I would ensure you are well."

"No, Ada," said Elrohir, shaking his head. "Although I would not have chosen this moment to confront him, fate has put that odious man in my path and I wish to deal with him at once. I would not have thoughts of him marring my return."

He turned toward the door of the council chamber, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm. "Elrohir," protested his father, concerned at how weak his son appeared. "You are weary. Please. Come with me now. I will take care of Robard after I have seen to your needs."

"No, Ada," said Elrohir simply. "My need is to face the first of my demons." And at that, he pulled away from his father and drew himself up to his full height, weariness vanishing as he tapped into some hidden reservoir of strength. The hard look and battle-readiness that infused his being took Elrond by surprise. Too often he was guilty of seeing his sons only as his children and tended to forget that they were some of Arda’s most fearsome warriors. But as he studied the young elf before him, he realized that the tired elf who was grateful for a father’s embrace had withdrawn and left in his place a deadly warrior ready to undertake a mission.

Recognizing his son’s right to exact his own justice, Elrond nodded slowly and then stepped away from the door, waving his son in.

While Elrond and Elrohir were having their reunion in the hall, there were a few interesting developments inside the council rooms as well. After Elrond had been pulled from the room and the door closed, Robard, brazen as ever had stated firmly, "Well, this is certainly a remarkable surprise! My dear wife must have sent your friend home once she had healed him sufficiently. How wonderful for all! Now, if you could just hand over what is due me, I will be on my way."

Glorfindel, who had been staring at the door, turned back to the disagreeable man with a glare, "That was not Lord Elrohir, but his twin brother, Lord Elladan. Who, I am certain, will suffer no more delays in securing the safe return of his brother. If you do not cooperate immediately, I assure you that he will not be as...diplomatic...as his father."

Robard regarded the formidable elf glaring at him, but far from being alarmed, Robard breathed an internal sigh of relief as he realized that it wasn’t his former captive who had just walked through the door. For a ghastly moment he had been certain that his game was finally up, but it seemed that Dame Fortune was smiling on him once more and he may still be able to work things to his advantage. Never one to overlook any angle, the trader said haughtily, "I thank you for your ‘concern,’ but when your young Lord Elladan hears of my dear wife’s tender care for his brother, I have no doubt that I will be the recipient of even more gratitude as he finds his own way to express his appreciation for all our hard work."

At that, Belder, who had been listening silently, couldn’t help an involuntary sound of utter disgust and then walked rapidly to the window, where he leaned against the sill and stared out at the trees beyond. He had been certain that this nasty man would be able to give them some kind of clue as to his friend’s whereabouts, but now he wasn’t sure. Something didn’t quite ring true.

The young warrior sat tiredly down on the window seat as he thought about what he should do next. He’d already made arrangements at the stables to start out again tomorrow, but hadn’t decided in which direction he should go. He sighed in weary frustration. In Elladan’s absence he was in charge of a major part of the search party and the responsibility for finding his friend-and his lack of success-was weighing heavily upon him. As he thought about Elladan, his attention turned back to the present and the trader, who was still prattling on about how Elladan would be sure to reward him for all his hard work. Belder wanted nothing more than to shut him up by putting his fist into the man’s mouth, but had reluctantly conceded that Lord Elrond would not want him to interfere. Still, how dare that insufferable creature even think to try to squeeze ‘appreciation’ from Elladan?! His friend had suffered enough and Belder couldn’t bear to see him subjected to the greedy fool’s manipulations. He just hoped that Lord Elrond or Glorfindel would prevent that, for he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control his temper if the little worm was allowed to bother Elladan.

Just then, though, the door flew open and in walked Elrond and his son. To the surprise of the elves in the room, however, Elrond did not take charge, but instead stood by the door while the younger lord strode toward Robard with grim purpose.

Glorfindel’s eyebrows shot up in stunned astonishment as he saw the expression on Elladan’s face. The twins had never, to his recollection, slipped into that frame of being that he could only call ‘battle mode’ here at home, but the older warrior recognized the look and knew that Elladan was about to take on Robard-and he was most assuredly not planning to be diplomatic.

Many of the other elves in the room were also shocked to see their young lord thus. They were used to seeing the twins undertake many different roles: as hard-working extensions of their father, skilled diplomats, decisive leaders, or even light-hearted youngsters. And while they were aware of the twins’ additional responsibility as protectors of Imladris, most had never had had the chance to see either of them fulfill that particular function.

Belder, however, had fought alongside the twins frequently over the years and viewed his friend’s entrance with satisfaction. Obviously Elladan had things well in hand and would not be rewarding Robard’s odious behavior with any ‘additional gratitude.’

As for Robard, for all his bluster, he was actually quite shrewd and he knew the second the young elf entered the room that he was in serious trouble. As the elf approached him with a hard look on his face, Robard began to back up nervously and for the first time in decades, actually felt fear in the pit of his stomach as he watched the tall, menacing elf approach.

"Elladan," warned Glorfindel and started toward his old charge. He wondered why Elrond had not made a move to stop him, but he himself was unwilling to stand by and watch Elladan destroy their chance to pry the secret of Elrohir’s location from Robard. Surely they must realize how much bargaining power Robard still had, since he was the only one who could help them find Elrohir.

But the look that the young elf gave Glorfindel stopped him in his tracks with a quick indrawn breath. The expression on the other’s face and indeed his whole demeanor was not that of his old pupil nor even that of the young friend he had become. Nay...this was the look of an elven lord who was irritated at being interrupted. *One more first for the day,* thought Glorfindel, since neither of the twins had ever turned that particular expression on him before.

Cold, hard, and completely in control, the younger elf said firmly, "Stand fast, Glorfindel. I know what I do."

Glorfindel studied his old student for a moment and then stepped back, smiling grimly. Yes, he nodded, this young son of Elrond quite clearly had things under control. He folded his arms across his chest and then waited with keen interest to see how Elladan would take care of the loathsome man.

But there was one shocking surprise left, of course, which was quickly revealed when the imposing young elf finally reached Robard, who had backed himself up all the way to the wall. Grasping the man by the front of his tunic and pinning him to the wall, he asked in a deadly voice, "Do you know who I am?"

Squirming but determined to keep up his bravado, Robard shot back in a rude voice, "Some elf named ‘Elladan.’"

"Wrong answer!" was the response, accompanied by a slam against the wall. "For the likes of you, the name would be Lord Elladan. But even that would be wrong, for it is the name of my brother. I am Elrohir, and even if you do not remember me, you can be sure that I remember you quite well!"

Neither Elrohir nor Robard heard any of the loud gasps and exclamations that followed Elrohir’s proclamation, as they found themselves in a world that consisted for the moment of only the two of them.

"You can’t be! You were left..." Robard trailed off with a touch of panic finally entering his voice.

"Oh yes," hissed Elrohir. "You remember where you left me. After you dragged me across the continent and finally tired of tormenting me, you sold me into slavery-an abomination that few have the stomach for. Not many are heartless enough to sell an immortal into an eternity of suffering. But you had no problem leaving me to that endless hell, did you? Well, perhaps I should return the favor and find a similar place for you."

The other elves in the room stood in frozen silence as they watched, fascinated to see their young lord show a harshness that only his fellow warriors had truly seen in the past. It was almost with a sense of denial that they tried to reconcile the elf they saw before them with the elf that they remembered. Was this really supposed to be Elrohir, the younger, gentler twin? The fun-loving sprite who was always ready with an easy smile? How could this...this unyielding force be the same elf?

Elrohir relentlessly continued, "Now I want the truth. Did you find another elf or were you speaking of me? Trying to use our previous encounter to line your pockets with more gold?"

When Robard said nothing, Elrohir leaned forward until he was just inches from the man’s face and hissed, "Tell me."

Elrohir drew back, satisfied that this despicable creature did not have his brother or any other hapless elf. Then he continued in a scathing tone, "As I thought-motivated only by greed. But you are fortunate you hold no others, for I would see you dead before I would allow you to sell another of my kind. Perhaps it would be just if your fate were to be sold as well. As you did to me, I could find for you a place where you are beaten for not working hard enough, and then starved when your fellow workers think you work too hard. Perhaps you would enjoy being chained to a wall and forced to wallow in filth for daring to show that you can think. Aye...perhaps there is a place where you will be drugged till you lose all sense of self and find yourself unwittingly doing anything you are told. Indeed...it would be justice to find such a place for you."

Belder grinned in sheer joy and gave a short laugh when he saw a telltale wet spot form on the front of Robard’s breeches at Elrohir’s words. The offensive human was finally showing an appropriate understanding of the possible consequences of his actions. Betraying and blackmailing elven kind was not to be undertaken lightly.

Elrohir didn’t laugh or even smile, though. He glanced down at the puddle forming at the man’s feet and then simply looked back into the face of the man who had been so cruel to a sick, injured captive. This man had taken sadistic pleasure in hurting Elrohir and then left him to a fate where death would have been a welcome release. Thus, he had earned his hatred a hundred times over. But that wasn’t what infuriated the elven lord now.

Speaking once more in the unfamiliar, harsh tone, Elrohir said, "I despise you. For your unrelenting brutality when I was wounded and ill, I loathe you. But it is for the offense you bring to my home today that you have earned my undying hatred and must be made to pay. How dare you," he punctuated his words by once more slamming his captive into the wall, "come into my home and cause my family more pain? You add to their grief all in the name of greed. You would have awakened their hopes only to dash them to pieces. What would you have told them when you could not lead them to me? How would you have lessened their pain when they found yet another dead end? Your very presence here offends me...nothing more than a disgusting, worthless parasite on this land who should not be allowed to live!"

At that, Robard audibly whimpered and would have collapsed to the floor if not for Elrohir’s firm grip. None of the other elves, even Belder, laughed this time at the man’s obvious fear. They could feel the tightly leashed fury in their young lord and all waited tensely to see what he would do next. Although none would hesitate to cut down the repulsive man in a fight, it was not the way of the Firstborn to slaughter an unarmed opponent and none wanted to see Elrohir take that first step into a merciless void. None moved to interfere, however, as they afforded him the right to make his own choice and, if truth be told, the young elf before them suddenly seemed very foreign and none wanted to be the one to attract his deadly gaze.

"You should not be allowed to live," repeated Elrohir, his face once more just inches away from Robard’s, "but it is not within me to kill in cold blood, even a worm such as yourself."

Once again not hearing the collective sigh of relief in the room, Elrohir continued, "But your offenses cannot go unanswered, thus you must still be punished for your crimes."

He tightened his grasp even more but moved slightly back before saying in a harsh voice, "During our long journey, I listened to you brag to your fellows of the many people you have destroyed through your wicked schemes. Time and again you ruined innocents in your quest for fortune and power. Thus, for your misdeeds against your own kind and your crime of extortion against my family, you will forfeit that which you hold most dear-the very fortune and power that you covet. You will go from here and return to your home, where you will take all your misbegotten gains and return them to those you have hurt. And anything that you cannot return you must give away to someone…anyone deserving. Do you understand?"

Robard froze for a moment in shock. Of all the things that the elf could have done to him, this was unthinkable. The implications were staggering! Without the gold that he used to pay off his men, they would instantly desert him. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that they followed out of any sense of loyalty-he was ruined! It would have been kinder for the elf to simply cut his throat! Frantically looking around the room, trying to think of anything that might change his fate, he made a desperate attempt to gain sympathy from some of the other elves and attempted, "You…you would not be so cruel to my poor wife. How would I care for her if I gave everything away?"

No one missed the look of utter disgust on Elrohir’s face. Shaking his head he growled, "Apparently you think me a total fool! Have you forgotten all the months I spent with you? How many times did you laugh about deserting your wife years ago? ‘The stupid little cow,’ I believe you called her. Now that you mention her, however, I agree that she deserves to be supported. So she will be one of those who is to receive your wealth, understood?"

Robard’s response could best be described as a whimper. This was a disaster! How could he have ended up in this situation? Surely there was something else he could do. He stared at Elrohir like a trapped rabbit while his brain frantically searched for a miracle.

But Elrohir was tired of dealing with this repulsive man and said, "You are not answering properly. I ask only one more time…do you understand what you are to do?"

With a feeling of doom, Robard suddenly realized his defeat. There was no choice left but to concede. Swallowing deeply to prevent himself from the further humiliation of throwing up all over himself, he slowly nodded.

Elrohir narrowed his eyes and regarded Robard, trying to determine his sincerity. When he was convinced that the man finally understood his fate, he added, "I will give you two weeks to complete this task and then at a place and time of my choosing, I will seek you out and you will answer to me. If I find that you still possess one thing that you have earned through your abuse of others, I will make sure that you suffer the same fate to which you condemned me. And do not think to run. If you do not follow my directions precisely, I will track you down and hunt you like the beast that you are. Do you understand?" he asked again.

Once more Robard nodded and gulped as he read the message in the coldly angry eyes. This elf was hardly the same weak captive that he had enjoyed tormenting and then had sold for a healthy profit. No, this elf was a strong, fierce warrior who he knew could have broken him in half with hardly any effort. This elf also promised a lifetime of being hunted if he was foolish enough to not abide by his sentence. He whimpered as he thought about all that he had...gone. How could he bear to live in poverty? How could he live without his things and the power they gave him? But he dare not consider defying the mighty being that stood before him.

Elrohir then abruptly let Robard go and walked a couple of steps away, clenching his fists as he seemed to battle with himself. Then, without warning, he spun around and crashed his fist into Robard’s jaw. "I owed you at least one!" he ground out as the stunned man staggered against the wall. "Now get out of my home!" he ordered.

No one said a word as Robard stumbled from the room, in shock from the sudden turn of events.

In truth, most of the elves seemed in shock themselves. Just minutes ago they had been trying to gain information of the whereabouts of an elf, who, they all secretly admitted to themselves, was probably no more than a mindless shell. But now that selfsame elf stood before them, full of righteous fury and power, almost unrecognizable as the kind, lovable elf that they’d watch grow up.

Once the door closed behind Robard, however, all the fight seemed to drain out of Elrohir and before their eyes, he became the familiar young elf they’d known for millennia. His eyes frantically sought his father’s as he began to sway-the energy he’d summoned from his deepest reserves deserting him and leaving him dangerously drained.

The battle to stay upright was lost almost immediately and he slowly began to slide to the floor. But before he could hit, Elrond, who had been expecting this collapse, was at his son’s side and caught him in strong arms.

"Ada," protested Elrohir weakly as his father lifted him up into his arms instead of helping him to the floor.

"Hush," gently admonished Elrond with smile. "This is something that I need to do."

Elrohir’s tired brain took a moment to remember his earlier conversation with his father and then surrendered gracefully once he recalled their words. He knew there would be no winning the argument and besides, he decided that he really didn’t want to.

"Very well, Ada," Elrohir murmured with a touch of a grin and then turned his face into his father’s shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

Complete silence blanketed the room as all stared at their lord, gently holding the young elf that many had never thought to see again.

Finally, Erestor, who was the first to regain his voice, asked, "Lord Elrond, where did he come from? How is it that Elrohir has returned?"

But the Lord of Rivendell had little answers for anyone yet, and so simply shook his head and said, "I know not what to tell you. I can only relate what he told me-that he has regained his memories. He did not tell me how that happened or even where he’s been. To hear the rest of his story, I fear we will all have to wait until he awakens."

"But is he injured, my lord? He seemed so strong just a moment ago," noted an anxious Belder, who had been overjoyed at the return of his old friend, but now terribly upset to see him slumped unconscious in his father’s arms.

"I believe he is simply exhausted. I can sense no great damage that some well-deserved pampering cannot cure," began Elrond with a small hug for his sleeping son, "although I will go to the infirmary now and examine him to make sure."

With those words, Elrond turned and headed for the doors, pausing only to allow Glorfindel to open the door for him. The mighty warrior looked down at the sleeping elf and then gave Elrond a brilliant smile. For the first time since Elrohir had disappeared three years ago, Glorfindel had the feeling that everything would turn out all right, and his smile reflected that joy. Elrond acknowledged the unspoken thought with a smile of his own for his old friend, and then left the council chambers, quietly carrying his sleeping boy out the door.

As he walked quickly through the halls, his eyes stayed on his son’s face. Who knew what trials Elrohir had endured during his latest absence. True, he had sensed no great physical harm to his body, but Elrond still held a great, secret dread that this latest suffering may prove too much for Elrohir to have come through unscathed-he had seen the hint of hurt in Elrohir’s eyes and feared that his spirit had endured too much to remain undamaged. The thought was unbearable and he fought to keep it from dampening his elation at Elrohir’s return. Finally arriving at his infirmary, though, he decided not to borrow trouble and, with a kiss on his son’s forehead for luck, pushed his way through the door.

It was several hours before Elrohir finally awoke from his unexpected nap-hours in which word spread throughout all of Imladris, prompting a spontaneous celebration as the inhabitants rejoiced in the return of their prince, although quietly so as not to wake him.

When the subject of that celebration at last pulled away from the dreams softening his sleep, he was not immediately aware of where he was. While he lay there, half asleep and half awake, his first sense was of the soft, comfortable bed beneath him. Then he breathed in the clean, fresh air and flexed his stiff shoulders, trying to loosen the too-tight muscles. It was at that point that he realized with a start that he was breathing fresh air and his movements were no longer limited by tight bindings. With a gasp, his eyes flew all the way open and he sat up abruptly, looking about the room wildly.

Nindal, who had been just a few feet away, came over to his bed and gripped his arm gently.

Elrohir blinked for a moment as he convinced himself that this was not a dream. That he was truly home. Finally, when Nindal’s hovering presence stayed put and didn’t dissolve into his usual nightmare, he allowed himself to tentatively believe and asked, "What happened? How did I come to be here?"

Elrohir swiftly sifted through his memories and answered, "I…I remember coming home, speaking to Ada, and then confronting Robard. And punching him. Yes, I remember that well. It felt good. But then…" he paused as he tried to remember just what had happened next.

"From what I was told, you passed out just after that from exhaustion," said Nindal kindly.

Elrohir looked down in embarrassment. Passed out? Elven warriors did not ‘pass out’ from fatigue. He was mortified to think that he was so weak, ignoring the trauma he’d been through that brought him to that state. To mask his discomfiture, he asked rather testily, "If I am not injured, why am I in the infirmary rather in my bed? Everyone knows this is not the place to sleep. With the endless poking and prodding one suffers here, it is impossible to find adequate rest."

Not at all offended by Elrohir’s words, recognizing their source, Nindal grinned at his young friend and said, "It is true that for once you have returned without any injuries that require a healer. You are here, however, because your father was making sure of that. But when he was done, you were sleeping so soundly that he did not wish to disturb you. Fear not. You will be free to go once he returns."

Knowing he sounded petulant, but unable to stop himself, Elrohir asked crossly, "Well then, where is he? Why did he leave?"

"He sat here at your side for many hours and will be quite vexed to learn you awoke while he was gone. However, I sent him to join your family when it came time for dinner. He not only needed the nourishment, but also needed the distraction from worrying about you," Nindal admonished gently.

Elrohir regarded Nindal irritably and scowled grumpily for a moment, but then the words penetrated Elrohir’s bad temper and the young elf’s face cleared as he sighed. With a small apologetic smile, he said softly, "Of course. I am sorry to have snapped. My manners seem to have lapsed along with my strength."

Then the young elf threw back the bed covers and carefully swung his feet over the side, pleased to find that, although still tired, he did not feel at all light-headed.

Elrohir continued to rise slowly and looked over in mild amusement as he answered, "Getting up, of course. What does it look like?"

The healer pushed Elrohir back onto the bed and, adopting the stern tones he’d learned from Elrond when dealing with recalcitrant patients, said, "You will have to wait here. I am not authorized to let you leave. Your father will be back soon and you can discuss it with him."

Elrohir understood Nindal’s position. If he left the room and anything happened to him, Nindal would hold himself responsible, even if Elrond did not. However, the young elf was tired. Physically tired of course, but mostly tired of having no say in his own life. If the last three years had taught him nothing else, he had learned just how much it meant to him to have the right to choose. Thus, understanding aside, he was not about to let Nindal, or anyone else, tell him what to do.

"I wish to join him," he said firmly. "Him and the rest of my family, who I have not yet seen. I wish to take a much-needed bath first, but then I will not be stopped. Please do not try to detain me, for I do not like to be forced to defy you."

"Elrohir," Nindal protested in one last feeble attempt, "Your father will be back soon-it would be no great hardship to wait just awhile. Besides, you may not wish to admit it, but you are still extraordinarily fatigued. Take your bath and then rest here and regain your strength until he returns. I can fetch you something if you are hungry."

Elrohir stood and patted Nindal’s arm in friendship. "I thank you for your concern, but the nourishment I require is that of the soul, and the best place to find that is with my family. I promise to be careful, but I am determined to go." Seeing the worry in Nindal’s face, though, he added, "If it eases your concerns, you may walk with me if you wish."

Nindal recognized defeat when he saw it and nodded with a rueful smile. "Very well, stubborn one. I can see that I will not be convincing you to stay. In fact, I am surprised that I even tried. I should have known it was a losing proposition from the start. Well, if I have no choice in this, I had better see to your bath and finding you something suitable to wear."

Elrohir smiled his thanks at Nindal’s quick capitulation, realizing that the healer had known from the start that there had been little possibility of Elrohir being persuaded to stay, but feeling he had to try anyway.

In short order, Nindal had prepared a bath in the infirmary’s small healing pool and Elrohir was quickly scrubbing off weeks worth of grime. It was a glorious feeling. He would have loved to soak in the hot water for hours and ease his stiff muscles, but his desire to see his family took precedence and after just minutes, he was already out of the tub and drying off.

Nindal scowled when he saw the myriad scrapes and bruises covering Elrohir…just what kind of trouble had the young elf found this time? Deciding he’d leave those sorts of questions to Elrond, though, he quietly held out a fresh set of clothes for Elrohir and soon they were ready to leave.

Silently, the two walked from infirmary until they arrived outside the dining room, at which point Nindal stepped back and waited for Elrohir to open the large doors before him.

"Elrohir?" questioned Nindal. For someone who had professed to be anxious to see his family, Elrohir was behaving strangely.

"Can you hear them?" asked Elrohir. "They sound so happy and relaxed, enjoying their meal. My entrance will change all that. Perhaps I was wrong to come."

Nindal snorted in a most un-elf-like manner. "Of course your entrance will change that! They will no longer be conversing about day-to-day trivialities, but instead will be joyously welcoming you back. Now you came all this way to see them-do not find needless things to worry about…Go in!" Then with a grin, he gave Elrohir a little shove toward the door and went back down the corridor.

Elrohir stood alone, looking at the closed door for a couple more moments, listening to the carefree tones coming from inside the dining room. He was certain they would cease the second he opened the doors and become a barrage of questions concerning his recent whereabouts. But once again, his desire to see his family outweighed any other need or concern-not to mention that he really was rather hungry-and so after a deep breath, he finally pulled the door open.

Contrary to his expectations, though, his arrival did not halt the animated conversation. In fact, no one even noted his presence at first. He stood in the doorway, his amusement growing as he listened to Celeborn and Arwen teaming together to argue that honey from hives closest to clover were far superior to honey from hives near flower gardens. Galadriel and his father were arguing the opposing position and Elrohir listened with a grin as he realized what a nonsensical argument it was. Neither side would be able to win, as it was all a simple matter of preference. It was only when Elrond distractedly waved him over, thinking he was one of the servants bringing the next course, that Elrohir finally laughed out loud and said teasingly, "You know, I really expected a different sort of welcome, but I have to say this makes me feel much more like I am truly home."

The effect of that statement was instantaneous-shocked silence followed by an absolute explosion of sound as everyone, even the stately Galadriel, leapt out of their seats and rushed over to greet him. The next several minutes were a blur of tears, hugs, and heartfelt words as each, in their turn, welcomed back their lost loved one.

A place was quickly set for Elrohir and the rest of the meal that followed was one of the most joyous occasions any could remember. Everyone was in high spirits and went out of their way to bring laughter to the group, even Elrohir, who was still feeling weak and tired, despite his obvious elation. Of course, the fact that Elladan was not there could not help but dampen his mood as well, but he was determined to not let anyone catch him as, from time to time, his eyes would sweep about the room as if in search of his missing half.

The conversation was kept light and fun, though, and no one even remotely touched on the subject of Elrohir’s whereabouts for the past several weeks. All wished to celebrate the joy of the reunion without having to delve into what could only be troubling questions, so Elrohir was spared from having to think about his ordeal.

Then reality came crashing back after the meal was finished and everyone moved to the family’s gathering room. Elrohir had grabbed an apple on the way out of the dining area and was leaning tiredly against the wall, munching on it when Glorfindel, who had joined them, grinned and asked, "Still hungry Elrohir? I thought you just finished eating."

But overwhelming fatigue was catching up with Elrohir and without thinking, he snapped defensively, "I missed most of the meal and hadn’t eaten in days. How could you blame me for being hungry?"

The room fell deathly quiet as Glorfindel murmured, "I apologize-I meant nothing by it."

Elrohir pulled away from the wall and looked embarrassed as he felt all eyes on him. This was the second time today he’d found himself apologizing for his bad behavior and was ashamed of himself. "Nay, Glorfindel…it is I who should apologize. I am sorry. Perhaps I am over fatigued and should retire for the evening."

Shoulders slumped, he turned to go, but then Arwen gently grabbed her brother’s arm and instead of letting him leave, tugged him farther into the room and then down into one of the large, soft chairs. Then she squished in beside him like she used to when she was small and with an arm around his shoulders finally asked the question they all had been dying to know, "You say you had not eaten in days-Elrohir …where were you?!"

Elrohir leaned his head back and closed his eyes briefly. It was not going to be easy to tell his family about all that had happened to him. How could they not be upset when they learned of Kalen and Matias’ treachery? And he knew that they would also be pained on his behalf over everything else he had endured. He only hoped that he would be able to maintain some form of control, for he already felt like he’d embarrassed himself enough for one day didn’t want them to think he’d completely forgotten his upbringing. But he was feeling so drained and shaky. What he really wanted right now was to escape to his quiet, airy room and lay down on his own soft bed….and sleep. Oh, how that tempted him. Still, his family had waited long enough and deserved to know the truth, so with a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and looked around. His father, his grandparents, Arwen, Glorfindel, and now Erestor had joined them as well-they had all pulled up chairs nearby and sat quietly, their concern and love obvious in the looks they gave him. He smiled tremulously as he regarded them, grateful for their loving presence, but still wishing that his brothers were there as well to give him additional strength. Especially Elladan. Oh, how he missed his twin! If only he would walk through the doors right now!

But it was not to be, and forcing that thought aside as useless, wishful thinking, Elrohir began his tale. He looked at no one as he spoke, fearing that if he saw his loved ones’ reactions, he would most certainly not be able to maintain self control. Thus, he chose a spot on the carpet and focused on it while he recounted in low voice what he knew about the past three years.

The story he told was an abbreviated one, told in chronological order starting with the mission that Elladan led to Rohan to bring back a herd of horses. His audience all remembered that long-ago trip as it had ended in unexpected tragedy, but didn’t see at first the connection to recent events. The connection became all too clear, however, when Elrohir told of the impact it had had on Polinas, Kalen, and Matias-the hatred it had spawned and the resulting, mad desire for revenge. He described their plan to destroy Elladan by harming him and how they had attacked him but then had left him when a group of dwarves unexpectedly showed up.

Elrohir glossed over details regarding the nearly fatal beating he’d received from the elves, the dwarves’ harsh treatment, and the joy Robard and his men took in tormenting him. He wasn’t up to sharing the feelings of confusion, pain, and aloneness that he had endured-he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to share them. So instead, in just a few sentences, he told how he’d arrived at Lord Hebert’s estate, had worked in the fields, and then had been eventually rescued by Estel. Then, knowing that they all were aware of the events between his rescue and his second disappearance, he skipped to the point where he’d been taken by Kalen in the middle of the night and then hidden away in the stables until the day before, when his captors decided they could no longer go through with their plans.

The narrative didn’t take very long. Elrohir kept strictly to the facts and no one interrupted with questions, so in short order, the basic tale was done. It was only then that Elrohir looked up from the floor and saw the same faces regarding him, now with understanding and worry. He hadn’t fooled any of them. They knew him well enough to read between the lines and discern what had been left out, and he could feel the anguish they felt for him. It was too much. Worn to a frazzle and emotionally fragile after his recitation, Elrohir began to tremble and buried his face in his hands, desperate to maintain his dignity. He shuddered as he took deep breaths, only marginally aware of Arwen’s arms around him, other loving caresses, and soft words of comfort from various familiar voices. How could he tell them that this was not what he wanted right now? He loved them all but just wished they would leave him alone as he struggled for control.

Then, miraculously, it seemed like his unspoken wish was granted, for he realized that the voices had faded away and that he was now alone in the chair. Tentatively, he lowered his hands and looked up, eternally grateful to find the room empty except for his father, who sat quietly by the window, looking out over the treetops.

Elrond looked over and smiled at his son, then rose and walked over. He squatted in front of the chair and looked into Elrohir’s face. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

With a soft laugh of amusement at Elrohir’s candor, Elrond agreed, "Aye, I think you have had enough for now. Let me walk you to your chambers and put you back to bed."

Grateful that his father knew exactly what he needed, Elrohir accepted his father’s hand up and followed him out the room.

While walking through the empty hallways, Elrohir hesitantly asked, "The others…they left?"

Glancing at his son, Elrond nodded. "Aye. They are concerned for you, but I felt you needed some time to gather yourself. Would you have preferred they stayed?"

Elrohir shook his head, "Nay, Ada. As always, you understand my needs almost better than I. Thank you. I only hope no one was offended. I would not want them to think I do not cherish their company."

Elrond nodded at his son’s concern. As always, Elrohir was more concerned about others than himself. Leave it to Elrohir to be worrying about..…. In the midst of that thought, another one broke in and Elrond knew. Trauma and hardships aside, this was the same Elrohir as always. The kind, caring elf who thought about others’ feeling ahead of his own, and yet was strong enough to stand up to someone like Robard if needed. He stopped in the hallway and looked at his son, breaking into a broad smile when Elrohir also stopped and looked back at him quizzically.

Not wanting to share his earlier concerns that Elrohir’s spirit may have been permanently scarred by his experiences, Elrond shrugged and said, continuing to smile, "I am just happy you are back, my son. It has been a long time since I have felt such peace."

Only partially accepting his father’s explanation, Elrohir nodded a bit suspiciously, but then smiled back and the two continued on their way.

Elrohir was so looking forward to crawling into his bed-it beckoned him and filled his thoughts the closer he got to his room. Thus, he was not expecting the wave of emotion that hit him when he finally walked into the sitting chamber he shared with his twin. He was home, he was safe, and yet…and yet he was still not whole.

He stopped and turned to his father, finally asking the question that he’d been avoiding, "Ada, just where is Elladan?"

Elrond continued on into Elrohir’s room and said over his shoulder, "Come, I will explain while you get ready for bed."

While the young elf got undressed and pulled on his nightclothes, Elrond told him briefly of Lord Bremon’s request for changes to their treaty and Elrond’s decision to send Elladan to represent him.

At that point, Elrohir, who was blissfully sinking under his covers, looked at his father and said, "I am glad he was given something to distract him from worrying over my fate. I hope you did not have too much trouble convincing him to abandon the search for awhile."

Elrond sat down on his son’s bedside and thought quickly. Just how could he respond to his son…to explain to Elrohir that his twin hadn’t even been looking for him? Elrohir had had enough upheaval for one day and he didn’t want to upset him by telling him that Elladan hadn’t really been part of the search at all. While he searched for the right words, though, his silence spoke volumes.

"You do not have to say it, Ada," the young elf said quietly. "I see it in your face."

But once more he was cut off. "Please do not feel you have to explain. I do understand. Really. It is all right. Can I….I just want to sleep now, Ada…please?"

Elrond looked at his son in frustration. This was not how he wanted this day to end. But he could see that the exhausted elf was really not up to a long discussion on why his beloved twin had not been leading the search for him, and so resignedly, he bent over and kissed his son goodnight and tucked him in. Elrohir said no more as Elrond went and pulled the long drapes across the windows and by the time the concerned father returned to his bedside, Elrohir was already fast asleep.

It was the following afternoon before Kalen and Matias were finally brought before Elrond. They had been under guard ever since Glorfindel had fetched them from the stables right after hearing Elrohir’s story. They were not likely to run away-indeed, they seemed only too ready to face their punishment, so the guards were more for their protection than to prevent their escape.

Yes, there were more than just a few who would have been pleased to find Kalen and Matias in their hands for just a short while. The people of Rivendell were quite protective of their lord and his family and were outraged that some of their own had attacked Elrohir. There was much talk amongst those who felt that the two deserved swift, painful justice-and many who would have been willing to see to it personally. Glorfindel’s efficient guards kept the two safe, however, and they were unharmed when they were brought before Elrond.

The chamber in which he waited was full of elves. Not only was Elrond’s council in attendance in addition to Galadriel, Celeborn, and Arwen, but also many other elves from all over the valley. Nothing like this had ever happened, and they came by the score to see justice served.

Kalen and Matias barely even noticed the other elves, though, as the eyes of their lord bore into them. There was an uncomfortable, long silence as Elrond studied the two elves and the air grew thick with tension.

It was a relief when he finally spoke, "After all I have observed in my long lifetime, from deceit to treachery to malicious cruelty, I must admit that I never once imagined a scene such as this. Two of my own people, standing before me to answer for unspeakably cruel crimes against my son. My son, who had always counted you as friends! I am understandably furious, but also more saddened than you can know. It grieves me to oversee these proceedings. But my greatest concern today is to ensure a satisfactory response to your crimes. Since you confessed your actions to Lord Glorfindel yesterday, there is no need to establish your guilt. The facts are clear and your story matches that of Lord Elrohir’s. The only question, then, is to decide your fate. And that is the more difficult question."

Elrond paused as he thought over the morning’s meeting with his advisors. Some had wanted to execute the two for their treachery and attempted murder of Elrohir. Some thought they should be sold into slavery as Elrohir had been. And there had been several other equally angry suggestions. The brothers’ unexpected defender, however, had been Elrohir, who had barged into the meeting uninvited after he found out what they were discussing. Demanding that his voice be heard, he argued that the two deserved a chance to redeem themselves-that what they had done was horribly wrong and misguided, but they were not inherently evil beings. Elrond had listened carefully to what Elrohir and the others had said, and carefully considered as he looked at the two before him.

He continued, "I received many suggestions as to an appropriate fate for you. Many harsh, and all deserved, but you were not without a supporter. You may be surprised to learn that your most eloquent defender was Lord Elrohir himself. His friendship, naturally, is forfeit, but he believes there has been too much suffering already and wishes to see it end. He also believes that there is still good in you that should be given a chance to flourish. I have listened to his input and that of my other councilors, but before I pass final judgment, I wish to know if there is anything you wish to say?"

Matias shook his head silently, eyes glued to the floor, but Kalen said quietly, "Aye, my lord."

Kalen’s voice quavered a bit as he spoke, but his voice was loud enough for all to hear as he said, "Nothing can justify our actions. Nothing we do in the future could ever erase what we have done. But if it means anything, we are both helplessly sorry for our actions. Our loss blinded us to the truth and we allowed ourselves to sink into an abyss of hatred and vengeance-into a sort of madness in which we participated in acts that now seem unthinkable. Looking back, I cannot believe some of the things I did."

His voice strengthened as he continued, "Only now can I see the truth for what it is. I wanted…nay, needed, someone to hate-a target for the anger that consumed me. I was given that target by another who deceived me, but I was the one who relished the opportunity to hate Lord Elladan, for by focusing on the hatred, I could mask my despair and hide the agony I felt at the loss of my family. Thus, I set out on a course, blinded to the pain I would cause others…innocent others. There can be no justification for what I have done and I make no excuses. I have failed in so many ways. As a person, a brother, a son…as a friend. I do not deserve mercy and ask none for myself. But if the possibility lingers in your heart, I ask that you consider that Matias is very young and was misled by those he trusted to guide him. If it is in my ability to do so and if it suits you, I would take as much of his punishment upon myself as I can."

At those words, Matias, who had up to that point been silently regarding the floor, looked up and interrupted violently, "Nay! I will not have Kalen take blame that is equally mine. I was taught right from wrong just like any other and my youth does not excuse my part in this grievous affair. I beg that whatever we face, we do it together."

Kalen looked at his little brother and, for the first time in forever, gave him a genuine smile, lightening his appearance and giving the younger elf a glimpse of what his brother had been like before tragedy had so changed him. Certain that he’d said the right thing, Matias returned the smile and then looked back to his lord, determined that whatever happened, he would stay at his brother’s side.

Elrond regarded the two silently. He had had serious reservations regarding the fate of those who had so willingly and viciously hurt his child, but seeing them now and hearing their words, he realized that Elrohir had been right…despite his fury at what these two had done, there was still something in them that was worth saving. So, turning to his son, who had been standing in the shadows watching everything silently, he asked, "Do you have anything you wish to add?"

Elrohir shook his head, unwilling to share his thoughts and feelings. He did not hate his former friends-he was too sad for them to feel anything akin to hate. And he was glad that he had spoken up in their defense earlier-he still believed that there was good in them that could be saved. Yet, he couldn’t forget the pain and anguish they had caused his family. All in the name of revenge against Elladan. It was like a wound to his heart to think of all that his twin had suffered, and even now suffered, because of their warped view of justice. Yes, they had found his brother’s weakness and exploited it well and seeing them again only reminded him of all the suffering they had caused. Awash with conflicting emotions, he chose to say nothing and instead hid his thoughts behind stoic silence.

Elrond wasn’t deceived by his son’s expressionless mask-he knew that this was difficult for Elrohir to endure. Thus, wanting to end this unhappy affair once and for all, he turned back to Kalen and Matias and spoke their sentence.

"Your repentance appears genuine, yet your heinous acts demand that I enact a stern punishment. Lord Elrohir, who has suffered the most, has proposed a sentence with which I now concur. He wishes you to have a chance at redemption-a journey that will be long and difficult, but achievable if that is your desire. If you agree, your sentence will be banishment from all elven realms, not to have contact with any of our kind, until you have proven yourselves worthy of return. The shape of that proof is as yet undetermined. It may come in many different forms, but you will know in your souls once it is done. Do you accept this and agree to abide by this judgment?"

The brothers shared a quick look, shocked at this unexpected reprieve and the chance to redeem themselves as creatures of light and harmony. Seeing grateful acceptance in each other’s face, they turned back to their lord and quietly said together, "Aye, my lord."

Accepting their statement with a single nod, Elrond then said, "Once you leave these chambers, you are to speak to no one. You are to gather your belongings and go, leaving Imladris until you find yourselves able to return, worthy. Now…be gone from these lands."

The two brothers grasped each other’s hand and started for the door, walking close as if to gain strength from each other’s nearness. Before they reached the door, though, Kalen stopped abruptly, causing his brother to stop as well. The older elf then looked at Elrohir directly for the first time. He stood silently for a moment before glancing to Elrond and asking him quietly, "May I speak once more, my lord, before I go?"

Elrond nodded again and then Kalen turned back to Elrohir, addressing his former captive gravely, "Lord Elrohir, I will not have a chance to say this after we walk through those doors, so I must say it now. For what we have done to you, I can never fully express my deep shame and remorse. I, especially, did things that will forever haunt my nightmares-you were my friend and I betrayed you. It was inexcusable. I am so sorry. And…and for what we have done to your brother, I am equally ashamed. Someday...someday perhaps we will fulfill our sentence and then I would hope to see you again. But no matter what the future brings for Matias and me, I wish you and your family only the best."

Matias, then, glanced over to Elrond and the elven lord answered his question before he could voice it, "You also may speak."

The younger elf turned to Elrohir and added in a quiet voice, "My lord, I, too, am sorry for what I have done. My shame knows no bounds and I know in my heart that we do not deserve the support you gave us. I…I know not where you find the strength for such kindness. Nonetheless, I am grateful for it and make you a promise. Somehow, someday, we will perform a deed so noble, that your faith in us will be rewarded. This, I swear."

The elven prince being addressed still said nothing. He couldn’t. Elrohir’s throat was so tight with choked-off emotion that he almost couldn’t breathe. Unable to trust his voice and unwilling to share this latest loss of composure with the gathered crowd, he accepted his old friends’ words with a grim smile and then looked away, praying that he could maintain his control until this whole sordid episode was over.

With their final thoughts expressed, the brothers turned toward the door and started to walk out, only to stop again abruptly once more. "One last thing," Kalen added with just a touch of a smile. "We have sent word to the outpost where we had sent a certain horse for safekeeping. Raumo should be returned in a few days. I understand he is most anxious to see you."

And then…just like that…the brothers who had made Elrohir’s life a misery for so long, were gone.

After Kalen and Matias left Elrond’s chambers, Elrohir stayed in the shadows, lost in thought as he fought once more to understand the "why" of everything that had happened.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump in surprise and he looked up to find himself staring into the face of his old mentor, Glorfindel. With embarrassment, the younger elf realized that the two of them were the only ones left in the room. He wondered how long he’d been standing there, lost to reality while everyone else left. He was irritated with himself for once more giving his father something to worry about, but didn’t immediately move away from his shadows, enjoying its comforting darkness along with Glorfindel’s silent support.

"I am so tired of all this misery," he finally whispered when the other said nothing. "Every time I think it is over, something else happens. I should be rejoicing, for today should mark an end to it, but I have thought that before and been grievously wrong. Do you think this might finally be the end-that my life will once more follow a path of sanity and meaning?"

Glorfindel shook his head and shrugged. "I can only hope, Elrohir. I have lived for millennia, but cannot begin to pretend that I understand these events. I am only sorry that it has caused you so much heartache."

"Not just me," Elrohir protested sadly. "There is no one that I love that has not been touched by this. Hurt by this. Think of Ada. And Estel. And Arwen. You. And everyone else I know. Think of them all." He paused for a moment and then continued in a small voice, "And what of Elladan? He still does not even know that I live. That I am home and well. That I even remember him! He was the intended victim all along, you know, and has been hurt terribly. I do not even know where to start to make it up to him."

"Hold, hold,…" interrupted Glorfindel. "Make it up to him? Elrohir, you cannot be upset with yourself about this. It is not your fault!"

"Nay! Enough!" said the older elf forcefully. "You cannot blame yourself for what others have done to you. You did not choose any of this. You did not ask to be beaten and sold, did you?"

Elrohir impatiently, angrily shook his head. "Of course not. But I allowed myself to be captured in the first place, didn’t I? I am better trained than that. I should have listened when Elladan warned me of Raumo’s strange behavior."

Elrohir shook his head again angrily, tears glistening in his eyes. "That is not the point!"

"Your brother believed that Raumo had eaten something disagreeable. But you knew your horse was not ill. And you were right. You had no way of knowing that your friends had drugged Raumo and would turn him against you. You had no way of knowing that their presence in the woods was a trap. This does not make your behavior foolish. Your training did not betray you. Polinas, Kalen, and Matias betrayed you. They were the ones who did wrong."

Elrohir did try to listen to what Glorfindel was saying, but was angry, sad, and confused and still worn out, physically and emotionally. He wasn’t up to discussing his thoughts right now, since he hadn’t really had a chance to work through them himself. Instead, he wanted to get away and think about things on his own. In a voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "May I go now?"

Glorfindel sighed, knowing he was not getting anywhere at the moment. With no better way of expressing his love and understanding, he pulled the troubled elf into a hug, wishing he could help Elrohir find peace. When the younger elf remained tense, however, he finally let him go with another sigh and said, "I will not keep you. But Elrohir, do think of what I have said, please?"

His reward was an unsteady smile and nod, and then Elrohir fled into the passageway and was soon gone.

Hours later, no one had seen the young elf and his family began to once more become worried. There had been far too many instances of bad things happening to the elf for them to be comfortable with not knowing exactly where he was. Quietly, they each began to walk around the grounds, looking for him.

It was Galadriel who finally came upon his hiding spot. It was well chosen, for no one would have thought to look there. No one, of course, except for the very wise lady of Lothlorien.

It was by the small frog pond that she found Elrohir, sitting on the very same bench that was the scene of their earlier tragedy, staring unhappily into the reflective pool.

Galadriel walked quietly up to it and joined him on the seat. He didn’t look at her, but acknowledged her arrival by scooting over to make room for her.

Her words almost made him laugh in disbelief. Did she even know what an absurd understatement that was? ‘Troubled’ was barely the beginning. ‘Confused,’ ‘angry,’ ‘hurt,’ ‘distraught,’ ‘lonely.’ Yes, those reflected his state of being better. The problem was that he didn’t know what to do to feel better.

The silence stretched until he sighed. Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to talk. She wasn’t going to say anything, apparently, so he would have to.

"I just cannot make sense of this," he said in a low voice. "There was so much needless suffering and grief. I find it hard to understand why it happened. And I fear that it will never really be over."

The beautiful elven lady did not move closer to Elrohir, but suddenly he felt as if she were embracing him and knew that somehow she was enveloping him with her love.

"Oh Elrohir," she said. "You are so young. And it is impossibly hard for one so young to see past adversity. It does not help that your life has been turned upside down these past years and you have not yet had time to regain a sense of peace. Nor does it help that you had to suffer unthinkable hardships alone, away from your other half."

Elrohir smiled briefly at those perceptive words. He wondered if the others also realized how hard it had been for him to go through everything without Elladan. The bond between the twins was a source of incredible strength, but also a corresponding weakness when circumstances forced them apart. It wasn’t like they were crippled without each other, but they found it exponentially harder to face challenging times without the steadfast support of the other.

Elrohir realized that Galadriel hadn’t continued speaking and looked at her questioningly.

She looked sadly into his beloved face and when she spoke again, it was not with the same sort of serenity that usually embodied her words. She took both his hands and said quietly, "I am compelled to take this opportunity to apologize for my own role in your suffering. I have not yet asked your forgiveness for the events by this pool. I truly believed that taking you back through your memories would help you. Instead, I only caused you to live twice through an experience that no one should ever have to face, even once. I am so sorry, dearest. I would never hurt you if it was in my power to prevent it."

Galadriels’ intent with those words had been to express her sorrow at the pain her actions had caused Elrohir, but they had an unexpectedly positive result. Warm-hearted Elrohir couldn’t bear to see someone he cared for hurting, so his desire to make her feel better forced him to shed his own mantle of gloom at last. Casting aside his own misery, he turned his thoughts to the more productive task of helping his grandmother. Squeezing her hands gently, he considered-it was clear that Galadriel agonized over her part in the previous incident by the pond. What could he say to absolve her of her guilt?

With the now-innocent pool as a backdrop, he looked into her eyes and said quietly, "Your visions showed that your actions would lead to the return of my memory, did they not? As Ada has told me countless times, visions of the future are peculiar things-rarely straight-forward and open to many interpretations. I believe…I believe that events unfolded the way they were meant to and you did nothing wrong by taking me back through those memories. I cannot say that I enjoyed it…either time…but if you had not brought me here and I had not reacted in the manner I did, then Kalen would not have had an opportunity to take me. I would never choose to be trapped in a box again," he swallowed hard as the memory of the suffocating darkness washed over him and then continued, "but in the end, it was living through Kalen’s harsh treatment that sparked my memories. Perhaps that is the only path that would have returned them to me. And perhaps that was exactly what your visions foresaw. So…you needn’t regret your actions. In the end, they held true and you were successful."

He stared at her anxiously when she removed her hands and bowed her head. Had he made it worse? Had he said the wrong thing?

But when she raised her head, he was almost robbed of breath by the sheer love in her gaze. She lightly kissed his cheek and then said with a smile, "Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?"

She gazed lovingly at the surprised young elf before her and then continued, "The kindness in your soul that allows you think of others before yourself, and to forgive, even when you were caused great suffering, is sheer beauty. It comes not from a weakness within you, but from a strength that I can only marvel at. Yes, I am so proud to call you my grandson."

Galadriel softly caressed his face and added, "I know you have struggled to understand all you have endured, and the suffering seems pointless and cruel. And I must confess there is not always an apparent explanation for why things happen. But if nothing else, know this-I believe that you will come to see in time that these trials have left you stronger. Much as a gem’s beauty is only revealed after friction, your character is polished by the hardships you bear. So find your peace, my dear little one, and do not fret over what you cannot change."

Elrohir smiled gratefully at his grandmother. He was unable to completely forget his worries so easily, but her words still did ease a large part of the burden from his heart. Thus, after a few more minutes sitting together in companionable silence, the two of them arose and went to find the rest of the family.

Several more days past in Rivendell while life returned to normal and its inhabitants finally accepted that the heartache of the past few years was at last over. At first Elrohir was unable to find that return to normalcy himself, for everywhere he turned, it seemed like someone was watching him…making sure that he was coping well and not lapsing back into despondency. But once he was able to convince them that he was managing nicely, he was allowed more freedom, much to his great relief. That is not to say he reverted to the reclusive behaviors that had marked his earlier return. He spent many hours with his family and friends, sometimes working through disturbing past events but often just enjoying pleasant times. The sessions with his father were especially beneficial, for despite his discussions with others, he treasured his father’s wisdom and the two of them sat for many hours, helping Elrohir to reconcile all that had transpired.

But notwithstanding everyone’s helpful advice, Elrohir still was unable to truly find peace. Despite repeated attempts by his family and friends to help him relax and enjoy himself, he could still be found at all hours prowling the corridors of his home. He never directly addressed his restlessness, but everyone knew why the young elf continued to be on edge. Everyone knew that he would not be able to settle down until he had finally been reunited with his twin.

It wasn’t completely unexpected, therefore, when Elrond looked up from his desk one morning to see his son hovering in the doorway. Smiling in greeting, he said, "Come in, Elrohir. Is there something I can do for you?"

Before he was even half-way in, Elrohir started speaking with agitation, "I have been thinking-Elladan should be on his way home by now. And if I leave immediately, I can meet him out on the plains. Adar, I wish to see him…now. And it is also my preference to meet him in private, without hundreds of well-meaning people looking over our shoulders. Therefore, I have decided to ride out and rendezvous with him. In short…" he drew in a deep breath and then finished rapidly, "I have packed and will be ready to leave as soon my horse has been readied."

Elrond, fully aware of his son’s burning desire to be reunited with his twin, nonetheless couldn’t imagine letting Elrohir out of his sight, let alone allowing him to ride out alone. He didn’t want to upset his son, but there wasn’t any conceivable way he would be able to give his permission. Reluctantly, he said, "Elrohir, I know you are anxious to see your brother, but I am afraid I cannot permit you to ride out to meet him."

For once, Elrond couldn’t read the expression that swept over his son’s face-Elrohir didn’t look angry or upset. In fact, his agitation from a moment ago vanished and he seemed almost eerily calm as he said, "Ada, it is long past time for his mind to be put at rest. I would not have him think I am lost for one moment longer than necessary. Why do you say I cannot go?"

Determined to keep things pleasant, Elrond answered in a reasonable voice, "There is much here that requires your presence, so I prefer that you stay."

There was no mistaking the glare that the younger elf sent to his father at the obviously contrived answer.

"Things that require my presence," he said slowly as if in disbelief. "Ada, it is far more important that I go to Elladan-he has suffered enough by thinking me lost. Besides, you have managed to keep things running smoothly without ‘my presence’ for the past three years... what exactly could need me here now?"

"Watch your tone, young one," Elrond admonished. "It is not your place to question me and your words border on disrespect."

Elrohir shook his head, clearly annoyed at being scolded, "I am not being disrespectful, Ada, and you know that. And furthermore, you are avoiding the question. Tell me plainly, why do you say I cannot go?"

The great elven lord was rarely caught without a good answer, but he honestly didn’t know what to say to Elrohir. In fact, other than his own fears, there was no good reason for forbidding Elrohir to go. His son had been a well-skilled warrior for many years, fully capable of taking care of himself. So he couldn’t bring himself to admit that his fears were driving his decision, and answered a bit curtly, "The specifics are not important. It is enough that I say you are required here. If nothing else, you cannot have forgotten your grandparents’ visit. It would be rude to leave while they are here."

If anything, Elrohir’s expression became even darker as he said impatiently, "Rude, Adar? They would be the first to understand if I explained to them why I go. Besides, I will return with Elladan before they leave and then we can all enjoy time together."

Without a good comeback, Elrond decided to stop playing verbal games and stated firmly, "Enough. I will make this easy...I am forbidding you to go."

Elrohir’s whole body was taut with leashed tension as he said, "I was not asking permission, Adar. I was informing you as a courtesy. I am leaving as soon as my horse is ready."

Elrond stood up, shocked and angry to be so openly confronted, as very few had ever had the audacity to challenge him. Unthinking of the consequences of his words, the elven lord commanded, "Do not think to defy me. You are not to go. If I must I will put a guard on you to ensure you obey me!"

Elrohir turned abruptly at his father’s words and started for the door, his face hidden so the elven lord didn’t catch the stunned dismay that flashed over it at Elrond’s words.

Elrond, not knowing if Elrohir still intended to defy him or was simply going back to his quarters, called to his son. "Elrohir, wait!"

Even upset as he was, Elrohir was ever dutiful and paused, but did not turn to face his father, who walked up behind him.

"I would not have you disobey me, Elrohir. This is not the time to be defiant," the elven lord said in a voice once more calm.

His young son was anything but calm, though. In a choked voice, Elrohir said, "I thought I was done being a prisoner. But it seems I have merely exchanged one set of shackles for another."

Shocked, Elrond put his hands on Elrohir’s shoulders and turned him around. "Elrohir, it is not my intention to make you a prisoner!" he said vehemently. "I only wish you keep you safe. This is for your own good. You have had a rather bad habit of finding trouble recently….even more so than usual," he finished with a small smile, hoping a bit of levity would help cut through the tension he felt in his son’s shoulders.

But Elrohir refused accept his father’s attempt to diffuse the situation, glaring at him as he said, "You take away my right to decide my own path and threaten to put a guard on me. That sounds remarkably similar to what others have done, but at least my captors never made a pretence of it being ‘for my own good,’ he finished bitterly.

Elrond let his son go and slowly bowed his head. The thought of letting Elrohir go terrified him, but he suddenly realized that forcing his son to stay would cause far more harm than good. Suppressing the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he said, "I am sorry, Elrohir. I have completely mishandled this. It is just…you are so recently returned to us. And the thought of losing you again brings such fear to my heart that I can hardly bear it. How can I keep you safe if you ride out alone?"

His own heart now aching for the clear pain in his father’s voice, Elrohir felt his anger vanish and said quietly, "I do understand your concern, Ada, and I cannot express how grateful I am for it. And I am so sorry that worry for me has ever caused you pain, but I cannot change what has already occurred, and must instead look to the future. And part of that future is being reunited with Elladan. I thought you, more than anyone else, would understand. He is still hurting, and I will not be at peace until I find him and let him know that I am well."

He took a deep breath and continued, hoping to make his father understand, "Besides Ada, I am a warrior. It is my job to ride into danger, and you cannot keep me safe forever. Indeed, the last time you ‘lost’ me, I was taken from our home, from this very corridor. For certain, there will come a time when I run into trouble again, but you must trust me to be wise enough to keep myself safe when prudent, and skilled enough to take risks when I must. But more than that..."

When Elrohir’s voice stopped abruptly, Elrond reluctantly prompted, "Please finish."

The young elf’s voice dropped almost to as whisper as he said, "More than that, I have had a lifetime’s worth of being under another’s control. It makes me feel ill to think of defying you, but the thought of living without freedom of choice is unbearable as well. Please do not make those be my only options," he begged.

Praying he was making the right decision, Elrond sighed and pulled his son into his arms. He knew he couldn’t refuse. "Very well," he whispered. "Although it pains me to say it, you have my blessing. Just…keep yourself safe."

Elrohir knew how hard it had been for his father to say that and returned the hug with a grateful smile. Then he headed for the door and said, "I will, Ada, and thank you."

Then the young elf rapidly left his father’s study, anxious to be on his way to join his brother. A short time later he eagerly mounted Raumo, who had been returned home just the day before, and found himself picturing the reunion with his twin. As he cantered out of the courtyard, he imagined the stories Elladan would tell about his adventures in the dwarven lands…

Contrary to the twins’ normal tendency to find trouble, Elladan’s journey to the dwarven realm had been remarkably uneventful. After he left Rivendell, he rode for days, methodically following the directions provided in the message from Lord Bremon, stopping only when he and his horse needed rest as he made his way west.

It was fortunate that he traveled alone, for he would have been sorry company during those days, as his father’s words dominated his waking hours. "You must trust Elrohir to find his way home," "You must not lose hope for him," "He needs you." It was that last thought that troubled him the most. Elrohir, his brother, twin, best friend, and lifelong companion, needed him and he had not been there for him. Instead of leading the search, he had indulged in a useless bout of self-pity. Yes, he had been feeling sorry for himself while he should have been doing everything in his power to find his brother. How remarkably selfish! He was so ashamed of himself. He knew Elrohir was still alive, but hadn’t done everything in his power to find him. So what if his brother had lost his sense of self? Somewhere inside he was still Elrohir and deserved better than to be left to whatever fate awaited him. He, Elladan, should have moved heaven and earth to find him and, if healing was not possible, to care for whatever remained of his beloved twin. The fact that he’d turned his back on Elrohir’s plight filled him with shame. He despised himself!

Elladan’s self-condemnation and preoccupation with his still-missing twin continued during the entire week that he journeyed to the dwarven lands, ceasing only when he finally reached the meeting place indicated on Lord Bremon’s directions. For the moment pushing aside his thoughts of Elrohir, the young elf entered the grotto marked on the map with disquiet. It was surrounded by towering rock on three sides and dense forest on the fourth, leaving the small clearing dark and damp. The light-loving elf had to suppress a shudder as he waited for a guide to show up. He didn’t like the gloomy place, for it seemed a mocking reflection of his dark mood.

He was only there a few moments alone, though, before a dwarf appeared from amongst the rocks and approached, regarding the elven visitor with thinly veiled hostility. Elladan managed to keep from rolling his eyes at the other’s obvious dislike. He really didn’t feel like dealing with ignorance and prejudice just now, but managed to keep his thoughts to himself as he politely performed the ritual of greeting with the dwarf. The dour dwarf then gestured toward a nearly-hidden fissure and in short, harsh words, explained that it would lead him to the underground home of Lord Bremon.

Elladan indicated his understanding and then turned to get his pack. He removed it from Isilmë and then gave his companion freedom to roam the forests until called for. A warm farewell for his beloved horse, and then without further delay, the elven lord stepped from the dim light of the grotto into the deeper gloom of the dwarven realm.

Silently, Elladan followed his guide through the winding passageways, grateful at least that the dwarf wasn’t inclined to be chatty. As Elladan went deeper and deeper below the surface, though, he heard the occasional skitter of little feet running along the ground and found for the first time that he was also grateful that it was he, rather than Elrohir, who had come to represent their father. While he knew that Elrohir would have been excited to have been asked and would have carried out his duties without hesitation, he also knew that his brother would have hated this journey underground. Even though Elrohir had been in countless caves throughout the years, he had never been able to overcome the dread he had of enclosed, dark spaces filled with scampering rodents. Indeed, with the number of rats he’d seen in just the last few minutes, Elladan found himself very grateful that Elrohir was not here instead of him.

His musings were cut short a while later when he started seeing the first signs of civilization. At first it was just a couple of carved doors blocking several tunnels, then a set of stairs leading down to some unknown destination, and then...as he turned a corner, Elladan almost gasped as he suddenly found himself walking out into a vast cavern, so grand that he couldn’t even see the ceiling. The size of the cavern wasn’t what stunned him, though. What stunned the young elf was the grandeur of the city before him. And in truth, it could only be called a city. Buildings, roads, people everywhere...it was just like a large city on the surface, only it was buried deep beneath the mountains.

Before he could fully adjust to the surprise of finding such an immense city underground, his attention was caught by a small group approaching them, led by Lord Bremon himself.

The dwarven lord, looking quite commanding here in his own domain, strode forward purposefully and put out his arm in greeting. His face was stern, but his eyes betrayed his good humor with a certain amused twinkle. He knew how often others tended to regard dwarves as dirty creatures who lived in underground hovels. And he knew how the first sight of how they really lived often shocked surface-dwellers. So he was enjoying the elven lord’s reaction to the true grandeur of his home. But he also wanted to make sure that his guest felt welcome and boomed out loudly, "Welcome son of Elrond! I have eagerly awaited your arrival."

Without hesitation, Elladan clasped the arm extended to him in friendship, thanked him for his welcome, and then executed a short, formal bow as a form of respect for his host, which Lord Bremon copied in a sign of mutual respect for his honored guest.

Formal greeting aside, the dwarf patted Elladan on the back and winked before saying, "Well, lad, I see that your manners have improved since we first met. Didn’t want to stir up a ruckus here, I take it?"

"Lord Bremon," said Elladan seriously, "I must apologize, for I know you believe me to be Elrohir, but I have come in his place. I am his brother, Elladan, sent by my father to finalize the negotiations you spoke of in your missive. Elrohir...Elrohir was unable to come, so I was chosen instead."

The open, friendly look that Lord Bremon had been giving his elven guest disappeared, to be replaced by a shuttered, wary expression. "He wouldn’t come? Didn’t want to have anything to do with us after all?" With a disappointed sigh he concluded, "I am grieved to know I so misjudged him."

Elladan looked at the dwarf in surprise. He thought Elrohir didn’t want to come? "Nay, my lord!" he corrected rapidly. "It is nothing like that. I have no doubts that Elrohir would have been thrilled to receive your request. He is...that is...he has not been home for several weeks. In truth, he never even saw your invitation."

Lord Bremon’s brow was furrowed as he regarded his young guest, sensing that there was far more to the story than simply ‘Elrohir was not at home.’ "Speak plainly, lad," he said gruffly. "What is it you are not saying? Where is your brother?"

Elladan paused. He really didn’t feel like talking about Elrohir’s latest disappearance. He was having enough trouble dealing with it without having to discuss it as well, but neither did he want to be rude to his host. After all, his father was depending on him to work with the dwarven lord and if he didn’t answer him, the dwarf might think Elladan was hiding something. Thus, even though a bit reluctantly, he finally admitted, "Elrohir went missing several weeks ago. He disappeared from our home during the night and we have not been able to find him since."

The expressions that crossed the dwarven lord’s face would have been amusing if the subject matter hadn’t been so serious. He went from shocked, to dismayed, to horrified, to determined, to resigned in just seconds, leaving Elladan with no clue as to Lord Bremon’s real reaction to the news. He just hoped in the end that the dwarf would believe that Elrohir hadn’t snubbed his invitation and would still be willing to work with him to finalize the treaty.

Surprised, Elladan was able to answer that question honestly, "Nay. I cannot believe that your people would have slipped into our home to steal him away in the middle of the night. To what end?" He didn’t mention that there would have been no way that they could have snuck in undetected, but didn’t see any need to add that observation. Instead he said, "I believe..." but then he trailed off, desperately crushing down the feelings of despair that suddenly surfaced as he remembered his brother’s violent departure. When he knew he was once more in control, he finished matter-of-factly, "I believe that he somehow lost himself and simply walked away on his own."

But the dwarven leader was good at reading even hidden emotions and saw that his guest was deeply upset by the memory of his brother’s disappearance. Lord Bremon was keenly interested himself in finding out what had happened to Elrohir-he had really come to like the young elf in the short time he’d known him-but in the face of the Elladan’s carefully masked distress, he decided that now wasn’t the time to pursue it further. Instead, he changed the subject briskly and in short order, had arranged to take his newly arrived guest on an extended tour of his home.

It was, in fact a couple of days before the subject of Elrohir was brought up again. In the meantime, Lord Bremon and Elladan had been working through the details of the treaty and getting to know one another.

Lord Bremon was especially pleased to learn about this older son of Elrond’s. In many ways Elladan reminded him greatly of Elrohir. Physically, of course, but the intelligence, strength, and compassion that he’d discerned in Elrohir was also an integral part of the older twin. But there were interesting differences as well. While Elrohir had been quietly courteous and subdued, Elladan had a much more forceful presence. And where Elrohir had been willing to delve into more philosophical discussions, Elladan seemed more inclined to focus solely on his objective. The dwarven lord reflected that it could have been the differing circumstances that led to these dissimilarities, but he didn’t think that was the case.

Yes, it was fascinating how two beings, brought up in identical circumstances, could still form their own personalities and Lord Bremon wondered if it had anything to do with the order in which they were born. He was puzzling over that question when he realized with an embarrassed start that he had been staring for quite awhile at Elladan.

The young elf was looking at him questioningly and he grunted, "I am sorry to stare. That was rude. I was just considering how much you and your brother are alike, but still different."

Elladan nodded in understanding and just managed not to sigh. He and his twin had been the subjects of many such looks and comments over the years-it was somewhat annoying, but he was used to it.

Lord Bremon then cleared his throat and added, "Have you ever used your like appearance to fool others?"

"Aye, from time to time," he admitted. Elladan couldn’t help the fleeting smile that came to his face. For some reason, it always seemed to be one of the first questions asked when people were discussing the twins. And of course, they had used their likeness to perpetrate many glorious pranks throughout the years.

The dwarf regarded his guest with interest. This was the first time he’d seen any kind of smile on Elladan’s face and the mischievous look that he’d briefly seen confirmed his suspicion that this elf would have a wicked sense of humor under better circumstances. It brought his thoughts back to his earlier ponderings and he wondered if Elrohir, too, would have been an amusing sort given a better setting. Then he realized that he had let another long silence pass, so he stated with mild humor, "I am not surprised. Somehow I imagine your father could tell me some interesting stories of what the two of you have done in your day."

Elladan only nodded politely, unwilling to be pulled into a conversation regarding the fun times he had in the past with his now-missing twin.

But Lord Bremon was captivated with the thought of these two identical beings, and missed the non-verbal clues that should have told him to change the subject. Instead he nodded and said with a grin, "Aye, I suppose you kept your parents on their toes when you were younger. Indeed, even now I believe it would be interesting to see what the two of you could come up with together."

Any lightness that was left in Elladan’s expression vanished in an instant as he said stonily, "Aye…I would like to see that as well."

Instantly aware of what he’d just done, Lord Bremon kicked himself mentally for his thoughtless comment. "Oh lad," he said with deep apology in his voice, "I am so sorry. Sometimes I get so focused on something that I end up being an insensitive lout." He sighed and added, "And I don’t mean to imply that you and your brother are curiosities…it is just that I enjoyed meeting him and have equally enjoyed getting to know you as well. And…and the similarities between the two of you and the differences fascinate me. I expect you are quite used to it, but I have never before met identical beings and the two of you intrigue me."

Elladan nodded lightly as he accepted his companion’s apology. He shouldn’t let it bother him, for this kind of discussion really was a common occurrence in his life. It was only the fact that Elrohir was missing that made it so hard to bear. Still, that wasn’t Lord Bremon’s fault so he added quietly, "Elrohir and I are very alike, but we are still two separate beings. And I know that many find that very interesting. And…while I would be happy to discuss it with you further some other time, perhaps for now we should move on to different things."

Lord Bremon knew what Elladan wanted-or rather that the elf did not want to discuss his brother further. But as long as the subject was already opened, the dwarven lord decided that it was time to open a conversation that he had been dreading.

With a mental apology for what he knew would be tough for Elladan, he stated, "As long as we’re on the subject of your brother, there is something I need to tell you. Something of which I am deeply ashamed, so I have not been sure how to approach it."

Elladan gave his host a troubled look. He did not like the sound of this and wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Lord Bremon was alluding to. But he held back and did not say anything when the dwarf stood up and walked over to a side table against the far wall.

Lord Bremon regarded a small pouch that was resting on the table before picking it up and then walked back to his guest, holding the bag lightly as if he were weighing it. Then he carefully placed it down on the table between them, sat back down, and gulped in some air before plunging ahead, "There are those of us who do not like elves and would not lift a finger to help one in need. In fact, there are sadly those who would go out of their way to torment any elf if they had the opportunity."

Ell felt his stomach tightening painfully. He was afraid of where this conversation was heading and now knew that he didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to jump up. He wanted to run away, but somehow his legs wouldn’t obey him and he sat, eyes glued on the dwarf as he waited apprehensively.

His worst suspicions were confirmed when his host continued, "I learned that a few years ago, there was an elf who was unfortunate enough to come across that kind of dwarf, or rather, they came across him. The elf was…found by some of my men who heard angry shouts and came upon group of elves arguing. Before they got too near, the elves ran, leaving behind one of their own who was badly beaten."

The dwarf had the grace to look utterly ashamed as he continued, "My people took the elf and treated the worst of his wounds to keep him alive, but did little else to see to his comfort. In fact, they were unkind to him…even cruel, as they saw his presence as a chance for revenge against all elves. They justified their cruelty to one who had done them no harm by deciding that he must have been a criminal, since it had been other elves that were beating him."

Pausing in his bitter narrative, the dwarf looked over at his companion, who was now resting his head in one of his hands, his eyes covered. He could only imagine how Elladan felt-in fact, he felt ill himself-but now that he had started, he had to finish his story.

His voice tight with sorrow for what his people had done, he continued, "They weren’t sure what to do with the elf, for they were far away from our lands and did not have time to be caring for one so severely wounded. Thus, after a few days, when they came across a passing group of traders who offered to take him off their hands, they decided to sell him, knowing full well that they were dooming him to a life of slavery."

Lord Bremon paused once again and looked back at Elladan, but recoiled in surprise. Elladan had removed his hand from his face and the absolutely furious look on it was startling. For the first time, the dwarf realized that, although young by elven standards, this elf was not one to be trifled with and he was obliged to adjust his thinking. He had been seeing Elladan as just a young representative of his father, and only now realized that this elf was a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

"It is clear you know where this story is going," the dwarven lord said grimly, regarding his guest with a renewed sense of respect. "Aye…it is your brother of whom I am speaking."

"How did you know that dwarves had hurt him? Were you already aware of their actions when you came to see us? Elrohir would not have told you what had been done to him," Elladan accused with an angry glare.

"No…he did not," allowed the dwarf, keeping his own anger in check for he realized the source of Elladan’s anger was a deep, aching sorrow for his brother’s past suffering. Still, he was not about to be intimidated, so he added, "But although I am small and short-lived by your standards, I am no fool. Elrohir told me nothing, but as I started to add up what I learned about him and his reaction to me, I decided that something terrible must have happened between him and dwarves in the past. Thus, when I returned home, I started asking questions, and finally heard the story that I just related to you." He added kindly, "I do not tell you this to torment you, lad, but rather so I can apologize. I am deeply sorry for what Elrohir endured at the hands of my people."

With a shuddering breath, Elladan seemed to deflate. He lowered his fiery gaze and dropped his face into both hands. Elrohir had given him some indication of what had transpired, but to hear Lord Bremon state how callously his brother had been sold only brought back that helpless feeling of rage-that impotent fury at not being there to save his brother. He ached to go back in time and intervene on his brother’s behalf, but knowing that to be impossible, his only refuge was to stop listening to things that his twin had had to endure. Speaking with his face still covered, he said in a choked voice, "I thank you for your apology, Lord Bremon, but please…I do not wish to hear any more."

The dwarf lord walked over to the distressed elf and awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, saying, "I am sorry, Elladan. I have one more thing that I must say, but then I will speak no more on the subject."

He felt the elf tense up, as if waiting for a blow. Hating to have caused his young visitor such anguish, he said quietly, "My men gave all his belongings to the traders except for this." He carefully slid the small pouch in front of Elladan as he finished, "I’d hoped to give it back to Elrohir personally with my apologies…and to tell him that I could fully understand why he reacted as he did to me. Perhaps…perhaps you can give it to him some day with my regrets."

Elladan looked through his fingers at the little bag on the table and then lowered his hands before looking apprehensively at the dwarf by his side. The dwarf’s expression was full of compassion and regret, which only made Elladan more reluctant to see what was in the nondescript little bag. Finally, though, with nerves so taut that he felt he might shatter, Elladan reluctantly picked up the bag and dumped the contents out onto the table.

His breath left him in a great whoosh as he saw what lay there. It was Elrohir’s brooch. They had never talked about it, but it had gone missing along with his twin and no one had ever expected to see it again. It was an exact duplicate of the one that he wore, except for the color of the stone. Each of Elrond’s children had been given one when they came of age, the only difference being the stone-his was blue, Elrohir’s was green, Arwen’s was red, and Estel’s was golden. The jeweled pin before him had a green stone, so it had to be Elrohir’s.

Elladan slowly covered its bright beauty with his hand and then squeezed it so hard that it would have been crushed if it had been made of weaker material. Eyes full of pain, he looked up at the worried dwarf and barely managed a hoarse, "Thank you. Elrohir will welcome its return."

The dwarf nodded and gruffly offered, "If it makes you feel any better, I have punished the ones who sold him as much as I was able to. They broke no law, except that of simple moral decency, so I was limited in what I could do. But I assure you that those responsible will never again be so cruel to one in need. They were formidable warriors all, but have been reassigned as household servants until the time that I think they have learned their lesson. No matter how long it takes, they will remain as such until they have learned the value of compassion."

It was a strange punishment, but as Elladan considered, he decided that it might be fitting after all. He could only imagine how horrible it would be if his father were to withdraw his status as a warrior and forced him instead to work as a kitchen servant, a nursery worker, a housekeeper, or perhaps a messenger. At that thought, Elladan suddenly remembered the angry dwarf who had escorted him down and he realized that he had probably met one of the dwarves that had tortured and then sold his brother. For an instant he wanted to run out and find that dwarf and pulverize him, but upon reflection decided that Lord Bremon’s way was possibly more satisfying. A beating would be over shortly, but this way the dwarf would have to live with the consequences of his actions for a long, long time. Unexpectedly satisfied, Elladan nodded grimly and said, "It is good…and I believe Elrohir would approve as well."

Lord Bremon viewed his guest through thoughtful eyes before he sat back down. As long as Elladan had mentioned Elrohir himself, the dwarf figured that it would be safe to continue to discuss him. As long as he avoided mentioning Elrohir’s difficult times, he decided that he should add something else-something that he thought would be good for Elladan to hear.

With a careful eye on his young guest, the dwarf stated quietly, "In the short time I knew Elrohir, I liked him very much. And, I admit, I wasn’t prepared to. I was so angry at what I thought was his narrow-minded attitude, that when your father arranged a meeting between us, I was ready to dislike him intensely. Arrogant little upstart, I thought. Instead, Elrohir did more in just a few minutes to dispel some of my own misconceptions about the character of elves than dozens of diplomats had done in countless previous meetings. It took strength and courage to come to me the way he did. Oh, I know your father told him to come and apologize, but I could see that the way he did it and the words he used were all his own. He was genuinely contrite and after his apology, made and effort to be quite charming. He was an unexpected surprise and I look forward to getting to know him better one day. And I say that because I believe he will return one day. I could see in him the heart of a fighter and know he will somehow find his way back."

Lord Bremon had picked the right thing to say-Elladan had heard enough of how his brother had been hurt to last him a lifetime. But to hear instead the conviction that he would return and the simple, honest praise for his twin was a balm to his aching heart and for the first time since he’d arrived, the young elf gave his host a warm smile.

Smiling back in response, pleased that he had finally made the somber elf smile, the dwarf continued, "There are those of us who oppose this treaty between our peoples, but when I see the character of Elrond’s sons, I know that I do the right thing." He grinned at the sudden surprise on Elladan’s face and added, "Yes, lad, I speak of you as well as Elrohir. You’ve good souls, you and your brother, and I’m pleased that fate has put the two of you in my path."

Elladan heard his host’s praise with genuine pleasure, but wasn’t certain how he should respond. In just the past few minutes, he had gone from annoyed, to upset, to furious, to painfully distressed, and now…now to gratified. The widely fluctuating reactions had left him uncommonly off-center and he had trouble coming up with a smooth, articulate response. Finally, he shrugged and said what was in his heart, "I am pleased as well that I have had this opportunity to get to know you. If nothing else, I am content that I can add you to that group I call ‘friend.’" His eyes filled with gratitude as he added, "And I deeply thank you for your kind words regarding my brother. It is good to be reminded of his strengths rather than focusing on the despair of his unknown whereabouts. I needed that reminder of his fighting spirit, for it gives me renewed optimism that he will soon be with us again. And…I will forever regard you as one who showed me the light of hope after a long darkness…thank you."

The dwarf’s response was gruff and mumbled…and Elladan couldn’t understand a word he said. It was clear that his companion had been embarrassed by Elladan’s heartfelt gratitude and in short order, to Elladan’s complete amusement, the dwarf changed the conversation entirely and soon Elladan was being subjected to a long discourse on the inner workings of the latest mining operations.

The rest of Elladan’s visit passed swiftly as he and Lord Bremon put the finishing touches on the treaty and then spent his last day touring around the dwarven lands. Elladan was amazed by the productive, cheerful society that was buried deep in the earth and gained a new appreciation for dwarves in general. And the dwarf lord was a good host, regaling his guest with tales from dwarven history as well as countless humorous anecdotes about his own exploits. All in all, it had been a good visit.

Thus, when Elladan started back for home he was in a much better mood than when he’d left. He knew he’d represented his people well and had to admit that he’d very much enjoyed Lord Bremon’s warm hospitality. But as the dwarven realm fell further and further behind, any sense of peace he’d managed to acquire slowly drained out of him. As each mile passed and he began to contemplate the bitter emptiness still facing him at home, the face of Elrond’s eldest became harder and harder, and after awhile was set in determined, yet grim lines.

After four days of hard travel, Elladan left the mountains and started across the vast plains that lay between his home and the dwarven realm. He traveled fast, eyes always on the horizon as he journeyed home, dreading the news that awaited him and yet clear now that he should take his proper place in the search for his brother. His new friend had been right-Elrohir was a fighter and he should never have given up on him. His pathetic days of hiding behind his own misery were over and it was time for him to go home and find his brother!

About a day’s journey into the plains, his keen eyes noted a rider coming toward him from the opposite direction. He kept track of the rider for hours as the speck became bigger and bigger. When he was finally close enough, Elladan noted that it was a dark-haired rider on an elven horse and, for just a moment, his interest was piqued as he wondered if his father was sending him a messenger regarding Elrohir’s whereabouts. But just as quickly, he crushed that thought. Hoping that Elrohir had been found would only lead to despair, so he ruthlessly shut away his curiosity and would only glance over from time to time to track the rider’s progress.

As they came closer, though, Elladan couldn’t help but notice how the rider and horse worked in perfect harmony. The two flew across the plains, soaring over obstacles as if they had wings.

An involuntary smile crept across his face as he saw the two charge forward, never veering around even the largest barrier in their path, instead leaping over them, one after another. He could sense the joy in them and could almost imagine the grin on the rider’s face as the pair effortlessly leapt over the latest obstacle in their path. *The rider was just like Elrohir-born to be one with his horse.* The thought escaped before Elladan could suppress it and his smile faded as he felt an irrational anger blossoming inside him. He had needed no reminder of his crippling loss. No longer interested in watching them, he deliberately looked away from the approaching pair and instead focused intently on the hills in the far distance that marked the edge of his homeland. He couldn’t wait to be home.

Refusing to take notice of the rider didn’t make him go away, however. The horse and his companion continued on an intercept course with Elladan, regardless of the fact that the older twin declined to even glance their way.

Thus, after grimly ignoring the approaching horse, Elladan was not at all prepared when he heard a painfully familiar voice call to him, "Elladan!"

He lurched with shock and would have fallen off the back of his horse except for Isilmë’s quick side-step, which kept his rider safe. His eyes unwillingly drawn to the rider, he looked over and saw that he was much closer than expected-only a few hundred yards away. In disbelief, he stared into the face of the rider and, with sickening clarity, saw his brother’s face smiling in greeting as he raced forward.

With just a nudge from his knee, Elladan directed Isilmë to turn right, away from the path of the approaching pair, but was taken aback when his horse didn’t heed his command. Trying again with a stronger nudge, he was shocked when Isilmë instead shook his head and continued toward the other horse and rider. Cursing under his breath, Elladan solved the problem of his recalcitrant steed by leaping off his back and walking in the direction he wanted to go. He wanted nothing to do with this phantom rider. He would go home on foot if he had to!

He had gone only a few feet, however, when he heard that all too familiar voice call again, "Elladan! Stop!"

The older twin did stop, but after a short glance, refused to look at the horse and rider that now blocked his path. He didn’t know what form of madness had overtaken him, but he did know that it couldn’t be Elrohir and Raumo before him. It couldn’t be. They weren’t real!

Long minutes passed while neither elf said anything. Then Elladan heard his imaginary companion say quietly, "Dan, please look at me."

Elladan then did look at the other, glaring. The other elf dismounted and then walked forward before stopping hesitantly just in front of Elladan. The shadow the other created moved with him and when it fell across Elladan’s foot, Elrond’s eldest considered…very well, maybe it wasn’t Elrohir, but this…this person wasn’t just a figment of his imagination either. There was someone before him. Someone who was about to find out that they shouldn’t play games with one of Rivendell’s lords!

"Who are you?" he asked in a lordly, commanding tone, intended to strike fear in the one who dared to pretend to be his brother.

"Who am I?!" responded Elrohir in surprise. When he realized that Elladan was serious, however, he answered quietly, "It is Elrohir, your brother. I am really here, Dan. I am Elrohir. I came to find you…for I could no longer bear to be apart."

His soft words did not have the desired effect, however. Elladan snapped back in fury, "How dare you pretend to be Elrohir! And how stupid do you think I am? You expect me to believe that my missing brother would ride up to me, on a horse that has been missing even longer than he? The same missing brother, who when last seen, smashed me over the head and then disappeared into the night? You expect me to believe that he would now, after all this time, simply ride up to me and say ‘here I am’? I ask again, who are you!?"

Elrohir looked at his angry brother in a mix of frustration and bemusement. This certainly was not the reunion he was expecting. Allowing a touch of that frustration to lace his words, he responded, "Dan! You have cut yourself off from me, or you would not have to ask who I am. Come, open up your senses and you will realize that I speak the truth-I am Elrohir."

The older twin regarded his companion suspiciously. He and Elrohir rarely spoke of the bond between them-the intangible something that linked the two of them. How would the other know about it unless…. He paused and then cautiously considered letting down a piece of the barrier he had built up inside, the barricade that he had formed when he had thought Elrohir lost forever. That barrier had been his only way of protecting himself from the crushing despair of aloneness that he had felt whenever he reached for that inner place and found emptiness instead of his brother’s presence. But if this other knew about it, then maybe…. No, he daren’t think along those lines. Shoving back the small glimmer of hope he’d been feeling, Elladan hissed, "You lie. You cannot be who you say. If nothing else, my Elrohir does not ride horses."

Finally finding something he could feel sure about, Elrohir grinned and stated, "Do not speak nonsense. You know that I have always loved horses. You, more than any, know how much, for you were the one who always shared my punishment when I would sneak away to see them. Just because I forgot for awhile, does not change my love for them. Now, enough of this foolishness. Please come here and allow me to give you a welcoming hug. I have sorely missed you, brother."

Elladan regarded his companion who held out his arms. He certainly sounded like Elrohir, and of course he looked like Elrohir. But before he could believe, he had to know, "How?"

Elrohir, who had really been hoping to save explanations for later, sighed and dropped his arms-so much for the reunion he’d been envisioning as he flew across the plains. But what must be, must be, and so with a few, sparse explanations, he described how he’d been taken, held in the stables, and then released. Elladan had more questions, however, and pressed his companion for more and more details about what had transpired, causing Elrohir to start over with his narrative and explain how everything had begun, years before. Elrohir was frustrated at having the joyous reunion he’d been picturing ruined by reciting these unpleasant details, but at least by the time he was done, Elladan seemed to finally accept that it really was his brother who stood before him

"So, Polinas, Kalen, and Matias tried to kill you in order to punish me?" he asked.

"Well, more or less," answered Elrohir. "I believe their original intent was to leave me injured and somehow lead you to my broken body as a…as a means of punishing you. They did not intentionally plan for things to be quite so brutal, but…well…it got out of hand when bloodlust overcame their restraint. They were stopped, however, when they heard the dwarves approaching. So they fled, and left me."

"They just left you to die? And do they, themselves, still live?" the older twin asked with a cold fury, clearly revealing his conviction that they should have had to pay dearly for their treachery.

"Aye, they live. At least, Kalen and Matias do. But their fate has been decided. They have been punished…banished. And Polinas…" Elrohir hesitated a moment before continuing, not sure about how to describe his fate. His grandfather had come to him just before he had left to relate what Galadriel had told him. She had discerned that Polinas had never arrived at the meeting place for those elves who wished to sail away. Somewhere along the trail, he had vanished. Elrohir shrugged as he continued, "I know not what happened to Polinas. He left some time ago to join his family, but never made it to the gathering point. Perhaps he met some terrible fate, or perhaps he simply decided to wait before he left. I do not know. Regardless, he too is gone from our home."

Elladan considered his brother’s words carefully before he said grimly, "It is good that they are not home, for I would not be able to keep my hands from their throats after what they did to you."

Elrohir nodded gravely at those words. He was sure he would have felt the same way if it had been Elladan who had been hurt. But now he was ready to think about other things. With a hopeful look at his brother, he said, "We will have plenty of time to discuss their fates-or anything else you wish-later, but for now I wish to move on. So, are you done with the questions? Do you accept that I am really me?"

Elladan allowed himself a short little smile and nodded, which was all the invitation Elrohir needed. He flew toward his brother and wrapped his arms around Elladan, grinning…finally! For the briefest moment, Elrohir was blissfully happy, but then he began to sense something was still wrong. Elladan had lightly returned his hug, but something still felt…off.

Pulling back, Elrohir regarded his brother with confusion and a bit of hurt in his eyes, but Elladan refused to meet his gaze. "Come, we should start home," was all the older twin said.

Deciding that Elladan just needed some time to get over the shock of his return, Elrohir pushed aside his own unhappiness and followed his brother, remounting and setting off for home.

Another day passed as the two quietly crossed the plains. From time to time, they would talk, but mostly it was the kind of day-to-day discourse of traveling companions-when to stop to eat, where they should camp for the night, and so on. Elrohir had tried to engage his brother in more meaningful conversations, but after several unsuccessful attempts, he finally gave up and lapsed into his own, brooding silence.

As he rode, the younger twin tried to make sense of it all. Of all the reactions that Elrohir could have expected from his twin, this...this indifference wasn’t one of them. From the way Elladan was acting, one might have thought that Elrohir had simply been returning from an evening stroll rather than the bewildering mess of the past three years. He thought he knew his twin as well as he knew himself, but he couldn’t understand why Elladan was acting so distant. What was going on?

He tried to be understanding and patient, but when Elladan’s unusual coldness continued for a second day, even the tolerant Elrohir started to become angry. He wanted answers, but mostly he wanted things to be right between them. There was no need for this continuing distance and he was determined to put a stop to it!

He was careful to bide his time, however, and waited until he thought Elladan was in a more receptive mood. That came after they had stopped for lunch, which was an almost pleasant affair as they quietly talked about things that they wanted to do once they got home. But when Elrohir steered the conversation towards whatever was bothering his twin, Elladan abruptly stood up and coolly announced that they shouldn’t be wasting time and should put out the fire and start for home.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded. "From the way you are treating me, I might as well be a stranger traveling in the same direction as you. Tell me why you are pushing me away. Talk to me!"

Elladan was angry with being confronted and shoved his brother aside. He started to walk on, but then he turned back, his words harsh and angry, "What is it that you want? You disappear for years without a trace. You return, but do not even remember me. Then just as I begin to accept things, you leave again. And now you have once more returned. So what? You expect me to rejoice? You want me to be happy? Do you want some kind of jolly welcome from me? Perhaps I not say it properly. Maybe if I do it right you will get off my back. How about… ‘Welcome back, Elrohir. I am pleased to see you looking so well.’ Or maybe… ‘Good to see you again, Elrohir. How long do you plan to stay this time?’ Does that suit your needs?"

Still with the unfamiliar harshness, Elladan snapped, "What? You are not pleased with those greetings either? How picky you have become, brother!"

He once more turned away, but then abruptly spun back around and grabbed his brother’s arm. Squeezing it hard enough to bruise, he said in a voice made unrecognizable by fury, "You insist on knowing what is wrong? Fine! Here it is. I dread the thought of returning home with you. The only time in recent memory that I have felt any sense of peace is while I was in the dwarven realm, far away from you and all the drama that surrounds you. In truth, I have grown tired of the turmoil that engulfs all around you. It saps the joy from life and I cannot begin to understand why you allow it to happen, unless perhaps it is all a ploy to get attention."

Elrohir felt rooted to the spot upon which he stood as he listened to the poisonous words coming from his brother. As each one seared its way into his heart, he felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him lightheaded and ill. A faint recollection came back to him as he remembered once fearing this very thing-that Elladan had tired of him. But that had only been when he had just left the stables, when he had been so physically and emotionally depleted. At no other time had he even considered such a horrible thought. But the anger coming from Elladan was not some made-up nightmare and his words were all-too clear.

The younger twin stood in breathless shock until Elladan’s last words shook him back into reality. How could Elladan even think that he had staged any of these events for attention?! It was beyond considering! Finally finding voice again, he choked out, "I do not know why you say these things, for I have never known you to be so deliberately cruel, and…and if anyone else were to say such things, nothing would save them from a sound thrashing! But I will not stand here and listen to more." Viciously yanking his arm out of his brother’s grasp, he turned to him, his face twisted by torment and anger. Not even bothering to blink away the tears that brimmed in his eyes, he whispered raggedly, "I travel alone, for I can no longer bear your presence."

After Elrohir leapt onto his horse’s back and bolted off, Elladan sat back down, his legs weak as the intense emotion drained from him. He scooted over to the fire that he and Elrohir had used to cook their lunch and sat there, hugging his knees.

Elrohir’s question and the look on his face haunted him. What was wrong with him? Elrohir was back. He was completely healed. And he even had his memories. Every single hope and prayer of Elladan’s had been answered, so why wasn’t he greeting his brother with the unbounded joy he deserved rather than pushing him away? What had made him say those hateful things when he knew he didn’t mean any of them? He had left the dwarven realm determined to find his brother, but now that he was here, he couldn’t bear to be with him. Elrohir deserved so much better-how could he have been so cruel?

He sat there by the fire, the passage of time meaningless as he tried to find the answers. What could possibly make him push away his twin, his best friend? Why had he said the very things that he knew would make Elrohir leave? What was it about Elrohir’s presence that had made him desperate to get away from him?

As he carefully sifted through his feelings, the answer began to crystallize in front of him. It wasn’t pretty. Proud, courageous, dauntless Elladan…was terrified. Plain and simple, he was afraid. Part of it was a crushing fear that he would begin to feel alive again, only to have Elrohir vanish as before, leaving him once more bewilderingly alone. Another part was a fear that he wouldn’t be strong enough to protect him…that yet again he would fail in his duty to keep his other half safe. And finally there was a fear…a gut-churning fear that once Elrohir knew how he had been abandoned-how his brother hadn’t even bothered to look for him-that Elrohir would turn his back on him and despise him. Yes, that was by far the worst fear of all, knowing that his weakness had caused him to break his long-ago promise to always be there for his twin. He couldn’t forgive himself and didn’t know how he could face his brother and tell him what he’d done. It was that which had caused him to push Elrohir away, for if he made Elrohir go away, then it wouldn’t be Elrohir leaving him. It was, doubtless, an irrational way to address his problems, but fears of the heart are rarely logical.

It was those selfsame fears and now a bitter sense of loathing that kept the young elf by the fire for hours, not moving even when the blaze slowly died down into a bed of coals and finally, into dark ash. But Elladan had a firm inner core of strength and spirit, and as he sat there, he began to realize that he had never been the kind to allow his fears to rule his life-that he was the kind to face his fears head on. And once he acknowledged that, he also realized just how deeply wrong and hurtful he had been to Elrohir and, no matter what happened, he owed his brother an explanation and a huge apology. He had to go make things right. Feeling infinitely better for having decided to do something positive, Elladan quickly broke camp and then raced after his fleeing twin.

It took Elladan nearly two days to catch Elrohir, for the younger elf rode like the wind as he tried to escape his twin’s verbal wounds. Elladan at last found him in the low foothills on the far side of the plains, where thankfully Elrohir had decided to rest Raumo before finishing the journey home.

Elladan almost smiled when he caught his first glimpse of Elrohir, sitting on a large boulder overlooking a rushing stream. Of course. Where else would he have expected to find him? Ever since they had been little elflings, whenever Elrohir was very bothered by something he’d find solace either with his beloved horses or near water, be it a lake, a stream, or even a small pond. Yes, that was where he’d always ended up when he needed something to soothe a troubled spirit and Elladan knew that he had given his brother plenty to be troubled about.

He didn’t announce his presence as he approached the rock, but knew that Elrohir was aware of him. The bond that they shared made it impossible to sneak up on each other, and he could tell that Elrohir had not closed himself off to his twin, as he himself had done earlier.

Elladan nimbly climbed up the boulder and sat down next to his brother, but Elrohir didn’t look at him or acknowledge him in any way except a slight tightening of his jaw.

The two sat thus in silence for what seemed to Elladan to be an eternity, but he couldn’t think of what to say to breach the wall that had never stood between them before. How could he explain why he had said those hateful words? He wanted to make Elrohir understand, but a remnant of that unrelenting fear-Elrohir’s certain rejection of him-made the words impossible to find. Desperately groping to think of a way to heal the wounds he had caused, the older twin hesitated too long and finally it was Elrohir who broke the silence.

In a cold, harsh tone, the young elf asked, "Do you know how many hours I lay alone in the dark, feeling as if I would be left there forever?…..And how many days passed as I struggled to learn who I was, bit by bit? Do you know how often I longed for the company of my captors, just so I would not be alone? Well, I do not expect you to answer, for I myself do not know how long it lasted, as those early days and hours of my captivity were ones of senseless confusion in which time had no meaning."

Elrohir glared briefly at his brother before once more looking at the stream as he continued, "But what did have meaning was the one image I held on to as a beacon of hope-the only light in an otherwise bleak existence."

His voice dropped to almost a whisper as he hissed, "That image was you, Elladan, although at first I did not even know who you were. But when I pictured you in my mind, I was comforted and found the strength to go on."

The older twin did not speak, though. He couldn’t. As he imagined the scene his brother described and thought of his Elrohir lying in the dark finding comfort by thinking of him...well, it caused him such a physical pain that he had to fight from doubling over.

Nodding as if he wasn’t surprised at his brother’s lack of response, Elrohir continued, his voice still harsh with anger, "Aye, thoughts of you gave me the strength to fight to regain my memories...for I knew that I would have to remember before I could find my way back to the one that would make me whole. And even after I was released...even when I was home and had my memories as well...even then I fought to come to you. It was not an easy task to convince Ada to let me leave. To say he was reluctant to let me go anywhere alone is a terrible understatement. But I had to find you and could not simply sit around and wait any longer, so he eventually agreed that I should go."

He glanced once more at his brother, still hoping for some kind of response, but Elladan wouldn’t meet his gaze, not giving anything away as he listened to his twin.

"But now," for the first time, the anger in Elrohir’s voice slipped as he continued, revealing a glimpse of the deep hurt that he was feeling. "Now that I am finally with you...now I feel more alone than ever. Why? What have I done? Do you really not wish to be around me?" he asked, the agonizing pain in that question palpable.

Elladan had been listening to his twin in growing horror. What had he done?! He had let his fear and shame hurt the one most dear to him in all the world. In his utter dismay, he shook his head. NO! He couldn’t believe his stupid fears could have allowed him to hurt his beloved brother so badly.

Elrohir didn’t see his twin’s face, though, and couldn’t know what he was thinking. Instead, he only saw the shake of Elladan’s head and-like all the other cruel tricks that fate had recently thrown the twins-took the gesture to be the answer to his question. It was true. His nightmare was still not over. Elladan had meant those hateful words-he had grown tired of him and no longer wanted him around.

Feeling like he’d been stabbed in the heart, Elrohir lurched forward and slid down off the rock, desperate to get away, not caring where he went. Tear-blind eyes hid the uneven path, though, and he tripped over one of the many roots that criss-crossed the trail. Despairing, not even bothering to catch himself, he might have had a nasty fall, but strong arms caught him and held him tightly.

Elrohir, hurt and angry, pulled away, only to be grabbed again. Stubbornly, he tried to get away yet again and managed to get a few feet away before Elladan tackled him and Elrohir found himself lying facedown on the path.

Finally finding his voice, the older twin said, "Ro, I am not going to let you go until you hear me out. Please be still."

Elrohir struggled futilely. Horribly upset, he just didn’t want to listen to his twin tell him why they should go their separate ways. He fought furiously to get away, but Elladan was just as resolute, and he didn’t allow his brother to escape.

Two equally determined elves wrestled in the dirt, but in the end it was Elladan who triumphed and pinned his brother to the ground. Thus, forced to accept that Elladan wasn’t going to let him go, Elrohir suddenly fell limp and motionless, breathing raggedly with his face in the dirt. Gentle hands then turned him over and he found himself unwillingly looking into his brother’s face.

"Dear Elrohir, I am so sorry," said Elladan in a voice made raspy from emotion. "Time and again I hurt you, although it has never been my intent. I am so sorry," he repeated.

"Let me go," whispered Elrohir, desperate to get away before he had to listen to Elladan explain why he no longer wanted him around.

"No," answered his twin, his heart breaking as he looked down at the dirty, tear-stained face of his brother. "I told you. Not until you hear me out."

Elrohir shook his head and one last time tried to throw off his brother, but was no more successful than before. Elladan had always been better at wrestling and in short order, had his brother pinned once more to the ground. But the younger twin was not completely beaten. He knew he would not be able to escape, so he turned his head to the side, refusing to look at his brother.

Elladan was starting to despair. "Ro, please!" he begged, tears finally spilling from his eyes to fall softly onto his brother’s neck.

It was that that finally broke through to Elrohir. Elladan was crying! Elladan never cried! In his shock, he turned back and stared at his brother.

Elladan caught his breath and returned the unblinking stare. After a few moments, he cautiously loosened his hold and asked, "If I let you up, you will listen? Not run?"

Reluctantly, Elrohir nodded his agreement and the two warily watched each other before Elladan lightly climbed off his brother’s legs and helped him to sit up, keeping a tight hold on his forearms as if he didn’t fully trust the younger twin to stay put.

Forcing himself to a calmness he did not feel, he commanded, "Elrohir, now you listen to me."

When his brother scowled and looked away, Elladan shook him gently and tried again, "Ro, I am sorry. Look at me…please?"

The younger twin looked back at his brother, and then guardedly waited for him to speak.

Once he was sure he had his attention, Elladan spoke, "Ro, I have handled this all wrong from the start, so I must make one thing clear straight off-I will always want to be with you. It is our destiny to be at each other’s side. Nothing and no one will ever change that."

When Elrohir opened his mouth as if to interrupt, Elladan held up his hand and said forcefully, "Let me finish. As I was saying, I will always wish to be with you and I am so sorry if my behavior implied otherwise. Nay…let me say it correctly…I am so sorry that my behavior did imply otherwise and…and my words as well. I…I did not mean them. It is just that I…that is…I…," he broke off, even now unable to continue.

But Elrohir, by this time, was finally beginning to understand. The bond between the twins was still there and as strong as ever. It had never been broken. Elrohir accepted the profound relief and gratitude that washed over him with that thought, but nonetheless pushed it aside for the moment as he considered-there had to be something else. Something that Elladan was desperately afraid of. Something that was causing him enough pain that he would act in an unthinkable way. Elrohir knew his brother, though, and thought he might know just what that ‘something’ was. But he also knew that Elladan would have to bring it out in to the open and admit to it before it could be laid aside for good. So he prompted softly, "Dan, if you do not wish to be alone, then why do you shut yourself off from me? Why do you seem angry that I have returned?"

Elladan laughed at that-a sound that was more like a sob. "Angry that we are together again? Elrohir, that cannot be farther from the truth. But…but you will hate me when I tell you what I have done."

Elrohir blinked in surprise. Well…he hadn’t quite expected that. "Hate you? What have I ever done to make you think I could hate you? Do you think so little of me? Of my loyalty? Certainly, we have fought from time-to-time like any brothers, but we have always forgiven each other. No matter what you think you’ve done, why should this time be any different?"

Elladan shook his head, still afraid to tell his brother. Instead, he finally let go of his twin’s arms and sat back in the dirt with a thud-after all this, he still didn’t know how to tell Elrohir that he’d given up on him

Tentatively reaching forward and gently wiping off the tears that had stained his brother’s face, Elrohir prompted, "You know you will feel better once you tell me what is bothering you. Please, let me know what has you so upset."

But Elladan jerked back from the loving gesture, unwilling to accept its comfort and choked, "We promised we would always be there for each other. And I failed you. How could you ever forgive that?"

Elrohir closed his eyes in relief. Finally. Yes, that was what he had thought was bothering that oh-so protective brother of his. And now that it was in the open, they could get this wound cauterized and move on. He opened his eyes and with a soft smile began, "Elladan, I knew…"

But he was cut off as Elladan leapt to his feet and yelled, "Did you not hear? I did not look for you! I gave up! Ada told me to trust in you and I did not. Instead of knowing that you would find your way back, I wallowed in self-pity. You were right under my nose and I didn’t find you!"

Elrohir tried to speak, but his brother didn’t give him a chance to say anything before he screamed, "Do you not understand?! I DID NOT EVEN LOOK FOR YOU! After all of our promises to each other, I let you down. Me. Me! Your twin. The one who should always be there for you! I cannot forgive myself for that and do not expect you to. NOW do you understand?!"

Elladan, having finally admitted what had been eating him alive for weeks, stared at his brother, his breath coming in deep gulps as he waited to see the ugly realization wash over his twin’s face-waited for him to leap up and disappear forever.

Elrohir did get up, but instead of leaving in disgust, he bit his lip and then closed the distance between the two of them, hesitating just briefly before giving in to instinct and carefully wrapping his brother in loving, forgiving arms.

Elladan refused to believe. This must be Elrohir’s way of saying ‘goodbye.’ He stood like a statue, not daring to return his brother’s embrace. This was the moment that he had been dreading, the moment that he had feared.

But Elrohir only held him tighter and whispered earnestly, "As I know myself, I know you. And while you may have been tired and heartsick believing I was lost, I know that you would have ultimately put that aside and endlessly led the search until I was found. I know this!"

"But…but I did not find you…you should despise me," said Elladan, shivering now as he tried to keep his emotions tightly leashed, still afraid to hope.

Unable to believe that his fears were completely groundless, Elladan drew in a shuddering breath. "You could forgive me?" he asked, his unsteady voice almost inaudible.

Elrohir squeezed his brother so hard that the other elf almost couldn’t breathe. "Oh Dan, there is nothing you have done, or failed to do, that requires my forgiveness. But if that is what you need, you have it, without reservation."

Elladan began to tremble even harder and finally, hesitantly, he brought his arms up and with a whispered, "Ro," engulfed his brother in his own, breath-stealing embrace.

The following minutes were lost to conscious thought. The two had been through so much. There had been so much pain, loneliness, confusion, fear, anguish. There had been so many times all had seemed lost-not only hope, but the joy, friendship, strength, and love that they drew from each other. For their ordeal to finally be over and for them to find themselves exactly where they needed to be, was more than they could even consciously comprehend. Instead, they allowed their feelings to pour across the bond that had linked the two since before birth, finding healing and comfort in each other’s arms.

An untold amount of time later, the twins finally drew back and looked into each other’s eyes, reaffirming that all was as it should be. Mirror images of relief and love illuminated their faces and even the silent tears of joy seemed to roll down their cheeks in unison.

Eventually, however, the two found themselves back in the real world and they pulled away from each other, wiping their faces and not knowing what to say after the intense emotion they had just experienced.

Finally, Elladan solved the problem by retreating into humor. With wry amusement, he said, "Some warriors we make! Weeping like little lost elflings. If word gets out, we are ruined!"

Elrohir caught on and joined in the game, "Aye…perhaps we should destroy all witnesses before anyone hears and our image is forever tarnished." He grinned and put his hand on his sword, glancing around as if in search of a foe to kill.

It was at that precise moment that a small rabbit chose to poke its head out from under the bush next to the twins and after a slight pause, hopped away frantically.

One look at each other, and the twins burst out laughing, falling into each others arms as they tried to stay upright but failing as they laughed themselves silly. Finally, they ended up on the ground, holding each other up as they allowed the laughter to cleanse away the remaining tension.

Once the chuckles had finally stopped, they shifted around until they were back-to-back, leaning against the other as they had done countless times in the past. They sat for a while in peaceful companionship until Elladan decided that there was still something he needed to say and broke the silence.

"Elrohir," he said seriously, "I know you said that there was nothing I had done that required forgiveness, but I cannot agree. If nothing else, my behavior…what I said…was inexcusable. I said those things, knowing they were false, in order to make you go away. I…I had decided that if I could push you away, then it wouldn’t be you leaving me. It was stupid, of course, and mean, certainly. And…I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for being such a complete, total jerk."

Elrohir laughed softly and shook his head as he said, "You were not a complete jerk, Elladan….well, maybe you were, but it is over now." When his brother didn’t share in the laughter, Elrohir added soberly, "It is over, Elladan, and all is well. I cannot lie, those words did hurt, but I understand why you said them. So now we should relegate them to the past and lock them away in that chest of stupid things we have said and done to each other over the years."

Elladan twisted his head slightly and glanced over his shoulder at the back of Elrohir’s head, then turned back and asked lightly, "Just like that, I am forgiven again? Are you sure? And are you sure you are not bothered that I was not looking for you?"

Elrohir shrugged, "As I started to tell you earlier, I already knew about that. I found out from Ada. He did not say so directly, but what he did not say was clear enough. And like I told him, I understood. And I meant it. I really did. In truth, the knowledge did upset me, but not because I felt you had abandoned me. It upset me because I knew that only an unbearable amount of hurt would take you away from the search and my heart ached to know that you were in such pain. I truly saw nothing that required forgiving. Well, unless…unless it was me, asking your forgiveness for being careless enough to get caught in the first place." He dropped his head as he added quietly, "I am sorry. I never wanted you to suffer because of me."

At that, Elladan rolled his eyes in disbelief and twisted around, almost causing Elrohir to fall backward when his backrest was removed. But Elladan caught his arm and steadied him with one hand as he poked him in the chest with his other, saying vehemently, "I never want to hear that kind of nonsense again, do you understand? What kind of an idiot would apologize for being betrayed by his friends-for being captured and tortured because some other idiots decided to go on a twisted spree of vengeance? You are hurt in my name and you want to apologize to me? Of all the stupid things I have ever heard, this has got to be at the top of the list! You did nothing wrong, you crazy little orc-butt! So don’t you dare apologize!"

Elrohir leaned back, his hands held up in surrender as he laughingly said, "Peace, brother! Peace! Please…I have heard that lecture a dozen times already and do not need to hear it again. Very well! I did nothing wrong." He shook off his brother’s hand and added indignantly, "You do not have to be so pushy about it," but he spoiled the effect with a grin that he couldn’t quite hide.

Elladan let the scowl melt from his face and returned his brother’s smile sheepishly. "Agreed," he said, "Perhaps I was a bit over zealous, but I really do not like to hear you blame yourself for any of this." He took a deep breath and, determined to finally say what was in his heart, added, "You have been incredible throughout this whole ordeal, Elrohir-strong and courageous in the face of unthinkable odds, and then wonderfully generous of spirit, forgiving those who hurt you. You amaze me, little brother, and so I cannot bear to hear you put yourself down in any way."

Completely taken off guard and totally embarrassed, Elrohir tried to deflect his brother’s praise by scowling and protesting, "Little brother? Little brother? How many times must I remind you that we are twins? Those extra few seconds of yours hardly qualifies you to look on me as little!"

For just a moment, Elladan almost let himself be caught up in the familiar pattern of teasing, but then instead surprised Elrohir by yanking him into another embrace and saying, "Oh Valar, how I have missed you!"

Elrohir could only nod, unable to find his voice. But when Elladan let him go, he was able to say, "Dan, you must stop that. Remember our image," and made a fierce-looking face.

Laughing, Elladan finally relented and let Elrohir draw him away from serious thoughts, the two comfortably bantering back and forth as they made their way to their horses.

The brothers didn’t say much else that day as they made camp, both needing time to come to terms with all they had been through and to truly accept that they were back together-whole. They didn’t delve again into serious subjects and kept further conversation light and unemotional, but neither one objected when their bed rolls were placed side by side that night and they fell asleep, lightly touching each other’s arm as if to ensure that their other half was still nearby.

The next morning when they awoke, the sky was dark and cloudy and the wind had a biting chill. The two worked quickly to pack up their belongings, leaving out their cloaks in expectation of rain. It was only when the first drops of rain started to fall and Elladan was pinning the front of his cloak, though, that he remembered Lord Bremon’s gift.

At his brother’s inquiring look, he reached into his pack and, like a magician, pulled out a small pouch, handing it to Elrohir.

"What is it?" asked the younger twin, puzzled by his brother’s suddenly pleased expression.

Elladan didn’t answer, though, and instead grabbed the little bag back and unceremoniously dumped it into Elrohir’s hand, grinning with pleasure.

The reaction was not what Elladan expected. At first Elrohir looked at the object resting on his palm as if it were a poisonous spider. With a sick sense of dread, he remembered the last time he’d seen his cloak pin. He had been with those horrid dwarves. They had found his pin on his discarded cloak and had been asking him where he’d found it-accusing him of stealing it since it was clearly the work of a master dwarven craftsman. He, of course, hadn’t been able to answer them, not even remembering his own name at that point. He tried to explain, but the angry dwarves insisted that he was lying and proceeded to kick him, despite his already grievous wounds, until he fell unconscious. It was his first, hard lesson on the value of silence. Now, the sight of the pin brought back that dreadful feeling of helpless confusion and pain and he shuddered at the memory.

"Ro?" The concerned inquiry penetrated the edge of his thoughts and he looked blankly at his brother’s worried face.

Elladan, who had been expecting his brother to rejoice at the return of their father’s precious gift, was disturbed. And, he had to admit to himself, disappointed. He had really been looking forward to surprising his brother and now Elrohir looked like he’d just swallowed something very unpleasant.

The younger twin slowly closed his hand over the pin and squeezed it, welcoming the pain from it’s sharp edges, for it drew his thoughts away from the past and helped him to return firmly to the present.

Elrohir looked solemnly at his brother and then down at his clenched fist. He carefully opened up his hand and then regarded the pin. It looked so innocent lying there in his palm. Even with the sky overcast, its beauty gleamed. Just like the day his father had given it to him and its mate to Elladan. It had meant so much to him in the past…

Abruptly, he tossed it up and caught it again, his mood lightening as he grinned at his brother. The pin had done nothing to him and it was still a reminder of their father’s pride in them-no need to let one unfortunate memory ruin its meaning for him. He snagged his cloak and pulled it over his shoulders, firmly restoring the pin to its proper place.

When he was done, he looked up, only to see Elladan still standing before him, fists on his hips, glaring. "Just what was that all about?"

Elrohir debated giving Elladan some flip little excuse for his behavior, but then answered honestly. "For a moment, I was reminded of when I lost it…" he took a deep breath, "and some of the accompanying feelings. But then I thought about when Ada first pinned it on me and decided that was the association I would choose instead."

Elladan had lost his glare, but still looked troubled. "Ro, I know what you were thinking of. I know how you were mistreated by the dwarves."

The younger twin shrugged, "Aye, I told you about that after I made such a fool of myself with Lord Bremon."

But Elladan shook his head. "Nay, I do not speak of what you told me, but rather what Lord Bremon himself related. He tracked down those who found you and learned what they did."

Elrohir stared at his brother in surprise. "He what?! But I made no mention of them-never said what they had done. How did he even know to look for them?"

Elladan grinned, "I have learned that you should never underestimate him, for he has uncanny insight. From what he told me, I understand that he was able to read into what you did not say, and came up with a fair approximation of the truth."

The younger twin thought back furiously to his time with the dwarven lord. He hadn’t meant to give anything away and was mortified to think he’d been so easily read. He shook his head in disgust, "He must have thought me a great fool to be so transparent-how he must have laughed at the stupid little elf who could not hide his thoughts. So much for the vaunted ‘stoic composure’ of our kind!"

It was the perfect opening for Elladan to tease his twin, for in his opinion Elrohir often put far too much emphasis on self control. And in times past, Elrohir most certainly would have been subjected to some of his brother’s sharp-witted barbs. But the overall subject of Elrohir’s capture and subsequent mistreatment was not something that Elladan would ever be able to consider a target for merriment. Instead, he responded honestly and kindly, "Nay, he liked you very much. It was the reason he requested that you be Adar’s envoy. Indeed, he was quite disturbed to think that his people mistreated you. That is why he came home and did some digging to find the truth. And when he heard what had happened, he punished those dwarves and made them give him your brooch. That was another reason he wanted you to visit-so he could return it to you."

When Elrohir still frowned, his brother lightly punched him in the arm. "Stop brooding," he said. "You managed to charm him in spite of yourself. He spoke quite highly of you."

The younger elf finally smiled softly. He had liked the gruff dwarf himself and was quietly pleased to think he’d made a good impression despite their most inauspicious beginning. He fingered the brooch at his neck and with a firm nod said, "Well, in that case I shall have to consider this a double gift, first from Ada and now from Lord Bremon. All the more reason to treasure it."

"Indeed," agreed Elladan with a smile. "And now, I believe we should cease our dawdling, for it looks like the sky will open up any moment.

Elrohir glanced up at the threatening clouds and agreed with a quick nod, seeing that the light rain was about to become a deluge. After the two quickly finished packing up their belongings, however, he mentioned quietly, "You realize, of course, that there is still one pin that needs retrieving?"

His brother finished securing his pack on Isilmë’s back and agreed succinctly, "Estel’s."

"Aye. I would not have him lose it on my account," Elrohir commented, frowning as he mounted Raumo.

Elladan, too, mounted his horse before responding lightly, "You know he values you far more than any pin, as he has already proven. He never once spoke of mourning its loss."

But Elrohir’s frown only deepened. "All the more reason for me to return it to him," he stated with conviction. "When the time is right, I will find a way to recover it."

The two started their horses forward, neither one speaking for a few moments, before Elladan broke the silence with a cautious question. "You would go back to where they held you in order to reclaim the pin? Are you certain you wish to do this?"

Elrohir was certain that he did not want to go back to the place where he’d suffered so much misery, but he felt strongly that he owed his little brother more than he could ever repay and this would be a small start. Thus he answered candidly, "I admit that the thought of seeing that place again makes my blood run cold, but I wish to do this for Estel. However, it would be so much easier if I were not alone-would you consider coming with me? I could even face Borgas with you at my side," he finished with a hopeful glance at his twin.

"You needn’t ask," said Elladan warmly. "I would be glad to go with you. And in truth, I am not planning on letting you out of my sight for the next several centuries, so wherever we choose to go, it will be together. Besides, I have nothing else planned at the moment and can think of no better quest than going after Estel’s pin."

The younger twin thanked Elladan with a grateful smile and then the two spent the next several hours discussing ways, both serious and humorous, that they could convince their father to let them leave home to go off into the wilds on yet another adventure.

The following two days saw the brothers leisurely making their way home, not exactly taking their time, but not rushing either. They knew that their family would be anxious for their return, but just couldn’t find it in them to hurry. They both needed this time to unwind from the terrible stress and trauma that had been plaguing them, and found a renewed joy in the comforting familiarity of simply being together on the trail.

They talked of many things as they worked to accept that their nightmare was truly over, but mostly kept the conversation light with frequent teasing. Thus, when they were less than a few hours from home and Elrohir saw his brother grinning broadly at him, he expected yet another joke at his expense.

"What?" he asked with amused affection, wondering what Elladan would come up with this time.

But Elladan’s answer held none of the expected levity. Instead, he shrugged and sounded almost embarrassed as he said, "I am just…happy. Profoundly happy. For a time, I never thought I would be again. It is hard for me to believe that we are almost home and you are here by my side, whole and healthy." He stopped his horse so he could really focus on his twin as he said sincerely, "For whatever reason, we were created to be together-and I was lost without you. And now that you are returned, I feel such joy and contentment that I do not know how to express it."

Elrohir blew out his breath in a puff of air as his brother’s words brought unwanted moisture to his eyes. "You express yourself well enough," he said wryly. Then he looked away and blinked rapidly while he tried to subdue the emotions that his brother’s words had unleashed. Only marginally successful, he turned back and said, "You know that I have always found it easier than you to convey what is in my heart, but admit that I also do not know how to put into words what I feel. I do not even believe the words exist to describe my thoughts as we near home, once more together. I…I only regret the pain that I caused to get to this point."

There was no mistaking Elladan’s anger as, after one shocked second, he exploded in disbelief, "That you caused?! You are not going to start that again are you? I thought I made myself crystal clear last time. What happened to you was not your fault!"

But Elrohir wouldn’t be sidetracked and said with determination, "Wait. Please, let me speak. Let me say this. I need to get this out before we are home and find it impossible to speak of serious matters in the midst of everyone’s good wishes. I …I have to tell you that I have seen how much my disappearance…and reappearance without memories…hurt everyone, especially you. And…I cannot help but regret that I didn’t listen to you when you warned me of Raumo’s strange behavior. I am so sorry."

The older twin looked like he wanted to jump off his horse and knock some sense into his brother-he had just been riding along thinking about how happy he was, and now Elrohir had to bring up all those unsettled feelings again! He had to force himself not to shout as he said in frustration, "In the first place, I thought Raumo merely had a case of indigestion. I had no inkling that there was anything else to worry about." He laughed without humor as he added, "If I had, I assure you I would have never let you ride off and most certainly would not have let you ride off with bitter words between us. But moreover, from what you told me of Polinas, Kalen, and Matias, they would have found some other way to trap you if you’d changed your plans that day."

When Elrohir’s expression remained stubborn, Elladan continued impatiently, "How can you possibly feel guilt for what was done to you? If anyone were to regret something, do you not think it should be me? Elrohir, you must know that a hundred times I have replayed standing there in the stables…I was so close to you, but because of my own selfish need to protect my feelings, I did not know you were there. If I had not shut myself off from our bond, I would have found you. I would have found you and stopped your suffering. How about that for a regret?" The anger in his voice disappeared as he added in a low voice, "It will haunt my thoughts."

Elrohir sighed deeply and mentally kicked himself. He had not meant to open up any wounds-he had only wanted to tell Elladan in clear terms that he was sorry his carelessness had caused his brother pain. But his words had apparently struck a nerve and now Elladan would once more beat himself up for not finding him earlier. Thinking back to what he’d told their grandmother, Elrohir decided that he could use the same argument with Elladan to hopefully put to rest any lingering guilt.

"Elladan," he said gravely, "I do understand how you feel. And…and part of me most certainly wishes you had found me earlier. Being trapped in that box was…beyond words. I do not ever wish to experience that again. But you must understand-although it was wretched, I believe the suffering was necessary before my memories could be returned. You recall, I did not remember things right away. And so if you had found me before Kalen’s ill treatment prompted the return of my memories, perhaps they would never have come back. It was unpleasant, to say the least, but the end result was worth it."

"But you were right there…so close that I could have practically reached out and touched you," argued the unhappy older twin.

Elrohir prayed for the right words as he cursed himself for reopening this issue. It was his fault that the happy Elladan of a few minutes ago was gone and had been replaced by a guilt-ridden Elladan. It was his fault, so it was his job to make things right. It would not be easy, for it was nearly impossible for his twin to accept that he couldn’t always be there to rush in and save his ‘little’ brother. Thus, Elrohir knew he’d have to do something drastic to break through. With a deep breath he braced himself and asked, "Elladan, what did Ammë say before she left?"

It worked. He certainly got his brother’s attention, who could only stare at his twin with his mouth open in surprise. Elladan could count on one hand the times that Elrohir had mentioned their mother since her departure-the younger twin had been deeply scarred by it and never had brought her up himself. He would even turn away if someone else mentioned her, so to have him willingly bring her up now left Elladan speechless.

When Elladan seemed unable to say anything, Elrohir smiled faintly at his brother’s expression and answered his own question, "She told us to have no regrets for failing to find her earlier. That ‘regrets for the past are thieves of joy in the present.’ So heed her final lesson to us and put away your regrets. Let us be happy instead that all has ended well."

As he shook off his shock and remembered his mother’s words, Elladan was pleased to find that he did feel a bit of the guilt lessening. It didn’t entirely go away…and he secretly admitted to himself that it may never completely vanish…but he was willing to agree that brooding over the past was not going to make them any happier in the present. He also appreciated the effort it must have taken for Elrohir to mention their mother-and besides, he thought with a secret grin, Elrohir had just given him a thought ……

"Very well, Elrohir," he said solemnly, "I will make every effort to set aside my regrets…but you must as well." His eyes narrowed as he continued forcefully, "Your regrets are as much ‘thieves of joy’ as mine. So one more word from you about how sorry you are to have caused me grief, and I promise you that I will give you far more to regret! Understood?"

For a moment Elrohir glared at his brother. Painfully stubborn at times, he hated being forced to eat his own words and immediately had a biting response ready. But then he caught himself and remembered what he’d been trying to do-to break Elladan away from that needless guilt. It appeared that he’d succeeded, so after a quick struggle with himself, he admitted that he had been fairly trapped and said with a reluctant smile, "I understand, and even agree…to a point. It serves no purpose for either of us to be consumed with regrets. So…I promise I will no longer torment you with unwanted apologies."

Elladan viewed his brother through suspicious eyes. Elrohir hadn’t said he would stop feeling bad about getting caught-he only agreed to stop apologizing for it. Elladan debated quickly about calling Elrohir on it, but then decided that this was the best he’d get out of his brother for now, so he nodded with a resigned smile and the two continued on their way.

As they rode the final leg of their journey, the brothers didn’t speak again. They had already expressed their deepest feelings and further words between the two seemed unnecessary. The feeling of anticipation was almost tangible as they got nearer to their valley and they knew they were thinking the same thing-how good it would be to finally be home and how glad they were that they would be there together. Thus, when they crested the edge of the hill and looked down onto their home, they glanced at each other quietly and still said nothing. The comfort and serenity of the elven realm beckoned them and they stopped for a moment as they viewed the valley in happy expectation.

Elladan smiled in pleasure as they sat, watching the valley below. He was thinking of the happy reunion awaiting them, when he felt his brother’s eyes on him. He turned, only to see Elrohir grinning at him with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Race you!" was all he heard before his brother, without further warning, spurred his horse on and took off at a mad pace.

With an oath, Elladan charged after and the two elves flew down the mountainside. The steep, winding path would have been treacherous to less-skilled riders or ones unfamiliar with the trail, but the two had come this way countless times and didn’t hesitate to tear down it at full speed. Elrohir maintained the lead the entire way, both because of his head start but also because Elladan held back, reveling in the chance to see his brother riding like he had since a child-where he and the horse became as one being. He had missed seeing the joy it brought to his brother, and deliberately stayed back so he could watch.

Indeed, once they finally stopped at the valley floor, Elrohir was beaming, his face lit up with sheer delight after the exciting ride. Elladan grinned back, his smile growing when Elrohir taunted cheerily, "You are slow, brother! We must have beaten you by five lengths!"

"Well, if one of us had started fairly, it might have been a more even contest!" he shot back, mostly because it was expected.

Elrohir nudged his horse closer and then patted Isilmë’s head, saying comfortingly, "Do not worry, brave one, I recognize a weak excuse when I hear it, but know it was a poor rider that held you back."

Isilmë nodded his head and snorted, causing Elladan to huff in mock irritation, "Do not try to cause trouble with my horse, little brother. If you hadn’t cheated we would have beaten you!"

At which point Elladan gave up and joined his brother’s laughter. He was just so happy! He would cheerfully lose every race just to see that look of elation on Elrohir’s face. He had missed it!

Laughing, the two brothers started down the path again and it was only a short time later that they reached the outskirts of the settled areas and the first of Rivendell’s inhabitants saw them. It was a pair of elves pruning branches in one of the many orchards that dotted the valley. The elves dropped from the trees and ran forward to greet the twins before taking their leave and rushing away to tell their friends the news. After that, the excitement was palpable as one-by-one, more elves of Rivendell caught sight of their young lords riding past. Tall, strong, and proud, the two practically glowed with joy at being back home together and their joy was catching as it spread to all who saw them.

At first the two continued on alone, but as they rode, first one, then two, and soon dozens of elves began to run along side them. The twins called out cheery greetings to their friends and neighbors who continued to surround them-and then there were especially exuberant exchanges when the Imladris Guard caught up with them and their fellow warriors started shouting good natured, affectionate insults to their returning lords.

This impromptu gathering only continued to grow, so by the time Elladan and Elrohir finally rode up to their house, they were encircled by at least a thousand cheering, excited elves.

The noise of this crowd penetrated the inner chambers where Elrond had been working with his advisors. He had sensed no threat to his valley, so he was caught unaware when he heard a great din outside and asked Erestor to go see what it was all about. When his old friend came back with a mysterious smile and would only say that he should go see himself, the elven lord got up with some muttered comments on ill-mannered advisors and walked outside to find out what was happening.

The twins had at last dismounted, but quickly realized that they had made a mistake, for they were soon separated by the multitude of elves who wanted to either pound them on the back in greeting or smother them in great hugs. From time to time they were able to catch sight of each other and saw the same amused resignation in their eyes as they were swept from one well-wisher to another, grateful for their people’s loving attention, but also wondering just how they were going to manage to get away and properly greet their father.

Thus, when Elrond finally did arrive, no one even noticed him. All eyes were on his sons, who were being passed from one person to the next as everyone waited to extend their own welcome home. Instead, the elven lord stood quietly, watching first one and then the other of his sons as they slowly made their way through the crowd. He did not smile, but his great joy would be clear to anyone who knew him, his eyes giving away the thankful contentment he felt in the safe return of the twins.

The Lord of Rivendell stood alone for a while, but eventually sensed others coming up behind him and was aware that the rest of his family had joined him. He knew that they each would have time with Elladan and Elrohir later, and so instead of fretting that he had to wait his own turn, he chose instead to enjoy watching the twins as they soaked in the love of their people. As he stood there, his face gradually relaxed into a loving smile as he felt that final, lingering bit of fear melt away into nothingness-this moment was all that he’d been hoping for and he said several silent prayers of thanks as he realized that their terrible ordeal was finally over. With a heart full of gladness and love, he looked at his laughing, happy, healthy sons and whispered, "Welcome home, boys."

A/N: Okay, I’ve got to explain this absurdly long chapter up front. It wasn’t in the plans to make it so excessively long or take so long to post it, but work has taken me out of the country and I have infrequent access to the Internet (I can read e-mails, but posting is extremely difficult). Thus, I have had lots of extra time just sitting around staring at my laptop and I filled the time by writing and writing…and writing. Many extra scenes as well as greatly expanded scenes are the result. Sorry if it seems to just go on and on. I could have broken it up into different chapters, but at this point figured I might as well just get the end posted. At any rate, I can’t believe it has taken me this long to finish the story-over a year from when I started. Nothing like making your first story a novel, huh? It’s been an absolutely great experience that I’ve really enjoyed, especially hearing from reviewers (you really do make this whole thing worthwhile, you know!) Like I’ve mentioned to some of you in the past, I’ve got a couple of ideas floating around in my head for other stories, but until I return home in the spring, I’m going to have to bid you all a fond adieu. It is too hard to know when I’d be able to post and don’t want to leave you all hanging again so long, so I’ll try to work on the stories while I’m here and will be able to post when I return. . I will be checking e-mail, however, so if any of you feel like saying ‘hi,’ I’d love to hear from you. Well, thanks so much to all of you that reviewed...and I hope everyone enjoys this last chapter and that it didn’t ramble on too much. Later, my friends! FirstMate

Lost by FirstMate