Disclaimer: All things related to Middle Earth belong to J.R.R. Tolkien… I’m just borrowing it for a bit.  I promise to put everything back when I’m done.

A/N: Happy Birthday, ‘Dan!

Special Days

“’Ro!”  A soft, anxious whisper broke the pre-dawn silence.  There was a soft thump, and the light patter of small, unshod feet skittering across the chill hardwood floor.

            “Wake up ‘Ro!”  A young, dark-haired elfling implored as he shoved the blanket-covered lump in the bed across from his.  A muffled groan came from under the soft blankets, proving the lump was, in fact, alive.

            “Go ‘wayit’searly” The lump muttered sleepily, much to the elfling’s chagrin.  This was not the reaction he wanted.  A dark scowl formed on his fair young face.  He studied the unmoving lump, unconsciously imitating his father’s formidable glare.  Finally, he decided this sort of behavior should not be tolerated.  Quietly he snuck away from the bed, leaving the lump in peace.  The lump snored on, oblivious to the displeasure of the thwarted elfling.  Then, without even a word of warning, the elfling tore across the room and leapt up onto the bed, pouncing on the unmoving lump.

            “’Dan!” came the muffled shriek from the attacked lump, and then the bed exploded in a flurry of bedclothes, feathers, pillows, and elflings.  The battle raged in the soft pre-dawn light, and both combatants were doubled over with laughter before the end.  Slowly the feathers and the pillows stopped flying, leaving two out-of-breath elflings on the once elegantly furnished bed.  They were alike as two peas in a pod, from their dark mussed hair, to their bright grey eyes, to the way they lay sprawled in identical giggling heaps.

            “’Ro?” Elladan asked between giggles, looking over at his twin.

            “Yes ‘Dan?” Elrohir replied, still trying to catch his breath.

            “Do you remember what today is?” Elladan asked with a fire-bright grin.  In response, Elrohir whapped his twin with a pillow.

            “Of course!” he answered scornfully.  After a moment he added, “Do you think ada and naneth remember too?”

            Elladan furrowed his brow in thought, considering the question.  Sometimes adults could be very forgetful, besides being strange in general.  Perhaps it would be best to remind them.  He shot a questioning glance to Elrohir.  His twin had evidently come to the same conclusion because his brother scooted off the bed, landing with a soft thump on the polished wood floor.  Elladan followed hurriedly. 

            The carved oak door swung open silently, propelled by the combined force of the two young elflings.  The darkened room was silent, and the courage that had sustained the pair thus far failed them at this lack of warm reception.  Elrohir crept forward first, with Elladan hard on his heels.  Quietly they scrambled up onto the foot of the bed… then stopped in shock.

            “Ada?  Naneth?”  Elladan queried softly, even though it was evident that neither were there.  Elrohir looked as lost as his twin felt.  Perhaps they had forgotten – sometimes ada and naneth would go riding alone, and sometimes, very rarely, they stayed out all day.  Of course Glorfindel or Erestor would be here for them but… even Glorfindel would not be good enough today.  Carefully Elrohir scooted across the empty bed and cuddled his ada’s pillow.  The frown on his face deepened – the pillow was not even warm.  Elladan came after him, dragging the disturbed coverlet.  The two snuggled together for mutual comfort like a pair of lost puppies.  Within minutes, they were both asleep, curled up in the abandoned bed.

Lord Elrond Peredhil, master of the Last Homely House, wearily strode though the halls towards his own room.  He had not seen his bed since the ranger company had clattered into his courtyard in the dead of the night.  The Dúnedain had fallen afoul of a band of orcs.  Both parties had been unprepared for battle, but the orcs had been part of a war party, while the humans, unfortunately, had not.  Most of their band had been more dead than alive when he had first seen them.  Not only had half of their band been made up by lightly armed women, most of the humans had been woefully young and inexperienced in the ways of battle, even for their kind.  Valar bless her, Celebrian had stayed by his side all through the night, helping to calm the women and younger rangers.  The injuries had been severe, but he could safely say not that most, if not all, of the Dúnedain would live to walk their beloved wilds once more.  Celebrian had elected to stay in the infirmary with a young mother who was highly traumatized by the whole experience, and rightly so.

            The halls were quiet at this hour of the morning.  It felt especially still after the barely controlled panic that he had been living through during the last couple of hours.  He was thankful the hour was still early – he intended to make today special for his sons.  First, however, he felt that a bath was sorely needed.  The stench of blood and death still followed him, bringing with it unpleasant and unwelcome memories.  No, today would be cheerful, a day to relax with his family…

            His thoughts were interrupted by one of his aides dashing towards him with unseemly haste.  The tall, studious elf looked positively flustered, which was a most unusual occurrence.  Elrond had to rely heavily on his much-vaunted diplomatic ability to keep from laughing outright at the almost pathetically relieved expression on the younger elf’s face.

            “My lord, a moment…” the aide began, uncertain of his lord’s mood. 

            “Go on, Tuluneth.”  Elrond encouraged patiently.  Sometimes he wondered what it was that inspired members of his staff to behave so nervously around him.  Perhaps Glorfindel had been telling them wild stories again.  Regaining his courage, the aide plowed onward.

            “My lord, another band of Dúnedain have arrived, inquiring after the first.”  Elrond raised a wry eyebrow at that.  He strongly doubted the hardened warriors were simply ‘inquiring’.  Sometimes he could see his twin’s fierce stubbornness in Elros’ offspring. 

            “They also beg an audience with you, sir.” Tuluneth added with a slight grimace.  Actually, the edain had not ‘begged’ anything – demanded would be more correct.  Such crude, ungainly creatures…

            Elrond bit back a sigh.  It seemed as if all of Arda wanted to stand between him and his plans for today.  He quickly glanced out a nearby window, judging the time.  It was still early enough that his sons should not be awake yet.

     “I will come.  Please show the Dúnedain into the infirmary.” Elrond requested.  The aide nodded, then hurried off to fulfill his lord’s orders.  Elrond watched him go and contemplated slipping off for a quick cat-bath and a change of clothes.  After a bit of internal debate, he decided he did not have enough time.  Besides, the sooner he dealt with his unexpected guests, the sooner he could get on with his plans for the day uninterrupted.  As he headed back to the infirmary, he fantasized about leaving Imladris to Glorfindel and Erestor, packing up his family, and heading off for some secluded place where he had no responsibilities.

Disclaimer: Nothing concerning Middle Earth is mine – it all belongs to Tolkien and his heirs, of which I am not one.  I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

A/N: I did not set an exact date to the twins’ age – there is still a king of Anor and Gondor, Arwen is not born yet… somewhere in there.  Towards the younger side, I think. *grin*

Arguments and Decisions

Elladan woke up first, blinking sleepily as the first light of dawn peeked into the room.  He lifted his head to look around the room, his mussed dark hair falling over his face.  Elrohir woke at his twin’s movement.  At first, he looked a little confused at finding himself in his parents’ bed.  Then memory returned, and he frowned.  Ada and naneth still were not here.  Elladan, on the other hand, looked thoughtful.

“’Ro?  Do you remember the story about ada’s ada and naneth?” Elladan asked slowly.

“Yes…” Elrohir replied hesitantly, not entirely sure where Elladan was going with this. 

“Do you think… I mean…” Elladan did not want to say what he was thinking, as if the spoken word could make such a thing true.

“That ada and naneth are gone?” Elrohir quietly supplied.  He had been wondering the same thing himself.

“Yes.”  Elladan answered, equally quiet.  It was an awful thought, but one that refused to go away.

“But ada wouldn’t leave!  Neither would naneth!” Elrohir argued, but there was very little conviction in his voice.  Ada had not thought that his naneth would leave either, but she had.  The twins stared at each other in shared misery.  Then Elrohir broke the silence.

“What are we going to do?” he asked miserably.

“They might come back.  Ada sees daeradar every night…” Elladan mused.

“As a star!” Elrohir protested heatedly.  That was not how he wanted to greet his ada from now on.

“But that was because of the Sil… the Sil… the big glowing stones.  Ada and naneth do not have any of those.” Elladan replied stoutly.  He did not want his parents to be stars any more than Elrohir did.

“True…” Elrohir conceded thoughtfully.  He mulled over this for a moment.  “This does not help us.  How will we find them?” he pointed out pragmatically.

“We could go on a quest.”  Elladan suggested.  Whenever the heroes of his favorite stores needed to find something, they went on a quest.   Elrohir nodded eagerly, his childish face alight with glee.

“We can hunt and kill orcs and camp under the stars and stay up all night!” he exclaimed, the excitement over this new adventure over-riding his misery of being abandoned by his parents. 

“And we’ll be brave and fight and be noble, and songs will be made about us!” Elladan added, catching his brother’s excitement.

“We should go now before they try to stop us.” Elrohir urged.  There was no need to define who ‘they’ were.  Glorfindel and Erestor simply would not understand.  Elladan nodded in agreement.  Both elflings slid off the massive bed, bolting towards their shared room.  After all, adventurers and heroes did not head out in their nightclothes.

Elrond was quickly becoming annoyed, though he did his best not to show it.  The morning was beginning to wear on, and he had not even had time to say good morning to his sons. 

“My Lord Elrond, you must send your warriors to fight off the orcs coming west over the mountains.” Mathorn’s voice held a distinct patronizing tone that set Elrond’s teeth on edge.  He was very thankful that he did not have to deal with this Dúnadan on a regular basis.  The only reason he had to do so now was that both of Mathorn’s superiors were lying unconscious in the infirmary. 

“My warriors already patrol the lands surrounding Imladris.” Elrond replied reasonably, relying on centuries of diplomatic experience to keep his tone civil.  “I cannot…”

“You must!” Mathorn broke in sharply, clearly irritated at being denied.  “As the commander of the Eastern patrol…”

“Temporary commander.”  Elrond dryly corrected, singularly unimpressed by the man’s show of temper.  He firmly resisted the urge to throw this impudent human out of his office. He had already moved this utterly pointless conversation from the infirmary to here, since his repeated requests for quiet conversation were blatantly ignored.  “Your own commander will return to full health and strength in a short time.” He emphasized the title, hoping to remind Mathorn of his place.  Perhaps a message to this man’s king in Annúminas would not go amiss.

“Until then, my word is law in these parts.” Mathorn growled.

“For your own people, sir.  Not mine.” Elrond replied shortly, no longer willing to humor this man.  “You overstep your place.”

“Then I demand my own people back… including Maechen and Himor.” Marthorn snarled, naming his two commanders, of which both were still recovering from the previous night’s battle.  Elrond stared at him in shock, and then narrowed his eyes. 

“The injured cannot leave, the move would surely kill them.”  Elrond coolly informed the irate man.

“Why should you care?  You doom the rest of my people to death, why not them?” Mathorn snapped back.  If the overbearing soldier was expecting Elrond to respond in kind, he was sorely disappointed.  Elrond stared back at him, cold as a Wight’s barrow and immovable as stone.

“You are over-weary and stressed.  Go to Maechen, he should have awoken by now, his wounds were not as grievous as the others.” Elrond noted shortly, moderating his tone so it came just shy of ordering Mathorn out of the room.  He categorically refused to explain his motives to this fool.  Mathorn, even as obtuse and overbearing as he was, got the hint and hurried out of the room, the heavy door swinging shut behind him. 

Elrond sagged wearily into a chair, showing uncharacteristic frustration.  There were times he wearied of caring for his brother’s descendents… this would be one of those times.  The door quietly opened and clicked shut, but Elrond did not look up.  Perhaps Mathron had finally found a properly scathing reply.

“You look weary, my love.” A soft voice murmured.  Elrond lifted his head to gaze into Celebrian’s bright, concerned eyes.

“I am well, nin-meleth.” Elrond replied, rising to meet her embrace.  Gratefully he pulled her close, taking comfort in her soothing presence.  He wondered, and not for the first time, how he had ever been able to function without her.  When she spoke, the thick pile of his robe muffled her voice.

“The last of the young women sleep peacefully now.” Celebrian informed her husband.  “Provided they are left undisturbed, they should sleep deeply for some hours.” Elrond nodded and sighed.

“I pray they will!  Mathorn does not agree with me in most matters this morning, and I fear he may do something rash.  Before I wake the twins I must go encourage the on-duty healer to refuse any ill-advised orders from Mathorn. I will not have my patients killed by his idiocy.” He stated definitively, fury at the temporary commander burning, muted, in his keen grey eyes.  Celebrian pulled away from him and smiled. 

“I will go.” She offered sweetly. “Go, be with your sons.” She instructed with a soft smile. 

“As the lady commands, of course.” Elrond replied silkily.  He bent and kissed her, then moved towards the door.

Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Middle Earth or its inhabitants belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I am just playing… I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

Startings and Surprises

            Two quiet shadows snuck into the warm and well-kept stable.  Most of the horses and ponies immediately dismissed the pair, since they were obviously not the ones coming with their morning grain.  To the twins’ surprise, there were at least a half-dozen horses they did not recognize, all with unfamiliar tack and builds quite unlike that of the deceptively delicate elven steeds.  They wished they could ask someone about this strange appearance, but the stable master was not around.  The stable master, a kindly elf whom the twins adored, was busy up at the main house giving the morning report.  Thus, he was not there to see the twin elflings sneak into their ponies’ stalls.  The two sturdy grey ponies greeted their masters enthusiastically, nuzzling them for hidden treats, which the twins obligingly delivered.  Once this greeting ritual was over, Elladan began to vigorously groom his little gelding while Elrohir fetched the ponies’ grain.  The packs that they had been hauling were left inside one of the ponies’ stalls, since it would be burdensome to carry them around while they worked.  Their ada and Glorfindel had warned them repeatedly against forcing their mounts to work without properly caring for them first.  Besides, true adventurers took good care of their animals – everybody knew that.  Asfaloth, Glorfindel’s stallion, watched the pair calmly.  Elrohir waved to the great white horse cheerfully has he carefully put the grain buckets away after filling the ponies’ mangers.  He had always liked Glorfindel’s horse.  He did think that it was terribly odd, however, that Glorfindel always named his horses Asfaloth.  Surely, it was more fun to think of a new name each time!  It had been great fun to name his own pony ‘Stormy’, while Elladan had named his ‘Cloudy’.  Of course, they had been little then, or they would have thought of better, and more heroic, names for their steeds.  They had obviously done a lot of growing up in the last few months.  He dragged a rough-hewn stool over to the equipment racks and picked out the two pony-sized halters that ada had given them, making sure to keep the leather from dragging as he carried them back to the stalls, where Elladan was finishing his furious grooming job of the second pony.  He hooked Elladan’s halter on the convenient elfling-height handle outside of Cloudy’s stall, and began working on tacking his Stormy.

            “’Dan, do you think we have enough honey-cakes?” he asked as he carefully slid the halter over Stormy’s nose.

            “I think so.”  Carefully Elladan hefted his brother’s bulging leather pack over the wooden partition that separated them.  It balanced precariously on top of the wall, and then toppled over into the hay on Elrohir’s side.  Both pony and elfling sneezed at the dust the pack raised.  After pulling on his pony’s saddle, Elrohir shoved the pack onto his pony’s broad back, trying to tie it down like he had seen Glorfindel’s warriors do when they were heading out for patrols or drills.  It always looked so neat and tidy when they did it, rather unlike the chaotic mess Elrohir was creating.  Finally, he stood back and examined his finished product.  While his pack looked considerably less secure than Glorfindel’s ever had, he was rather proud of it.  The ability to tie one’s pack to one’s horse was truly the skill of an adventurer.  Deciding that he was ready, he led his pony to where Elladan was waiting.  Elladan’s pony was tacked in a manner similar to Elrohir’s, save the many knots he used to tie down his pack were slightly different than Elrohir’s, though the effect was equally artistic. 

            The sun was just above the horizon, brightening the eastern sky.  Birds just returned from their winter homes began their daily chorus.  There were still patches of snow along the rim of the valley, and the pure whiteness gleamed in the morning light.  Both young elves stopped at the stable’s great gate, staring out over the forested valley.

            “We probably will not return for a long time.”  Elladan commented quietly.  “Quests have to take a long time to be worthwhile.” He added with all of the authority of a budding scholar of lore.  His grey eyes were wide with more than a little fear and uncertainty, though he would never admit as much to Elrohir.  Besides, the stories never mentioned adventurers being scared, so he would not be scared. 

            He could not know that Elrohir was just as frightened and just as unwilling to say so.  They had never left the valley before.  He knew daeradar and daernaneth lived in Lothlorien, which was south and east of the valley… somewhere.  He was not sure how far in each direction they were supposed to go to find their way there.  He also knew there were wood-elves near Lothlorien, though he was not sure where.  Ada always said they were fierce but loyal, though Glorfindel called them other, more interesting, things when the balrog slayer thought he and his brother were not around.  He had asked his ada once why Glorfindel said those things and what they meant, but ada had looked very sad and rather angry, and Glorfindel had turned an alarming shade of red.  He had not asked again.

            Also, he knew that Cirdan, the elf who made boats, lived somewhere west of the valley.  He had never met Cirdan, but he was fascinated by stories of the ancient Teleri.  He wondered what having a beard felt like.  Maybe he would grow one some day and find out. 

            Of course, he knew that Glorfindel had grown up in Gondolin, and Erestor in Lindon, but he was pretty sure those places did not exist any more.  Thus, it would be rather silly to try to go there… even though he thought it would be neat to go see Glorfindel’s home.  It was so hard getting Glorfindel to talk about it.  However, with all this knowledge, there was one thing he still lacked.  The one thing he did not know was which whey they should go to find out where their ada and naneth had gone. 

            “We have to be brave, like ada when his ada and naneth left.” Elrohir encouraged softly, though it was difficult to tell whether he was trying to bolster Elladan’s confidence or his own.  Whichever it was, Elladan nodded in agreement.  Then, by some silent signal known only to them, they mounted their ponies and started down the path that led out of Imladris.

            A lone rider, dusty from the road, galloped down the narrow path leading into the hidden valley of Imladris.  His dark visage was bloodied and weary, and he rode as if the very wolves of Sauron were at his heels.  As horse and rider passed under the overhanging branches of the first trees in the wooded valley, a sudden, commanding voice brought both to a standstill.

            “Daro!” The stern voice cried.  “State your business, stranger!”  Normally Hirtirun, the captain of the morning guard, would be much more friendly and much less abrupt with travelers, but this matter looked as if it needed immediate attention.  Besides, after hearing the tales of the previous watch, he was taking no chances.  Easily he leapt from his perch high up in a massive elm to land near the horse and rider, though he was careful to keep far enough away to avoid spooking the horse further, and to also keep well away from the rider should this prove to be a trick.  The rider’s next words put most of his fears at ease, on that account at least.

            “Thank the Valar, I feared I had chosen the wrong valley to ride into.” The rider gasped as he rubbed a steadying hand along his quivering mount’s proud neck.  “My name is Felton, I am the king’s messenger… please, I must speak to Maechen.  I tracked his party here, and I have news for him.” 

            “Come, Commander Maechen is here, as are his two subordinates, I believe.  Lord Elrond is caring for him.”  Felton paled at hearing this, but his questions were forestalled by Hirtirun’s commanding gesture.   “Ask your questions on the way – I cannot leave my post for long.” Hirtirun ordered, and then swiftly led the young Dunadan deeper into the haven of Imladris.  Silence descended into that small portion of the valley.  Quietly, two shadows detached themselves from the shadowed forest, leading two equally small ponies.  They crept up the road, climbing steadily out of the valley, shushing their ponies all the way.

            Elrond only paused in his rooms for a moment to shed his bloodstained clothing and take a quick cat-bath.  Clad in fresh robes of deep blue, he headed towards the twins’ room, smiling in anticipation.  Elladan and Elrohir had been looking forward to this day for quite some time with all the impatience the young possess.  Each minute had seemed a day, and the days had stretched without end… or at least that was what he had been told repeatedly by two anxious elflings.  Gently he pushed open the door, calling to his sons as he did so.

            “Elladan?  Elrohir?  Time to…” he trailed off as the brightening light of morning revealed that both beds were empty, and he was talking to himself.  Unconsciously he arched an eyebrow in surprise, taking in the mussed beds and the nightclothes strewn over the floor.  He was pondering where his sons could have disappeared off to this early in the morning when rapid footsteps in the hall caught his attention.  Glorfindel, looking quite harried, burst through the doorway bare moments later.  He looked around the room hastily to be sure the twins were nowhere within earshot before delivering his news.

            “A young Dunadan has come with messages for Maechen.  There are wolves coming down from the mountains and moving closer to Imladris.” The blonde warrior announced with the calm that came with millennia of training and experience.  Elrond nodded, showing he was listening, as he formulated a rough plan.

            “Form a scouting patrol and keep the wolves well away from the valley.” The elf lord ordered.  “Make sure, however, not to stir up too much commotion.  Many are already nervous with the sudden arrival of our guests.”  As Glorfindel turned to leave, Elrond laid a stilling hand on his arm.  “One other thing – have you seen Elladan and Elrohir?  It seems their excitement woke them earlier than I guessed it would.” Elrond inquired, smiling with amusement.  Glorfindel shook his head.

            “No, I have been organizing increased watches since before first light.” Glorfindel replied, clearly aggravated by that fact.  He had not been pleased to hear of an attack so near to the valley.  Elrond sighed and shook his head as well.

            “I only hope they have not gotten into too much… trouble…” his voice trailed off and all amusement left his face.  Both of the twins’ cloaks were gone, as were their heavy boots.  All of their favorite toys were missing as well… and perhaps most disturbingly, the two practice knives he had given the pair five years ago were absent.

            “I will send out search parties immediately.” Glorfindel left the room at a dead run.  There was, perhaps, an innocent explanation for these signs, but both elves knew what sort of mischief young elflings could get into – especially a certain pair of twin-born elflings.

            Elrond stood, a bit stunned, in his sons’ room for a long moment.  What had gotten into the young elves’ heads?  He prayed that they had not wandered far, not now of all times.  Finally, he shook himself and headed out the door.  He moved swiftly towards the infirmary.  Celebrian must know of this, and she must know of this from him.

Disclaimer: Everything associated with Middle Earth belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I own nothing, and I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

Arguments

            A thorough search of the hall and the outlying buildings did not reveal either of the two elflings, much to the searchers’ dismay.  However, it did bring more clues to the searchers’ attention.  Glorfindel and Erestor trailed a distraught and driven Elrond into the armory while Glorfindel outlined his new findings. 

            “The head cook reports that the twins raided her kitchens earlier this morning, closer to dawn.  It seems they took a goodly number of honey cakes that were left unattended while cooling.  Not entirely without the staff’s blessing, however.” Glorfindel reported dutifully, hastily adding the last detail to deflect any ire Elrond may feel towards his sons.  He paused to collect his thoughts, and then continued.  “Also, the twins’ ponies are missing from the stable.” That bit of information worried him.  It greatly increased the twins’ range, and thus the distance he would have to search.  It also meant that the vigilance of the Border Guard would have to be increased even beyond the state he had left them earlier this morning.  With the latest disturbing news from outside the valley, he would not have the twins wandering about in the wide world unprotected.

            “And no one saw them leave?” Elrond asked incredulously.  His sons may be adept at hiding, but to sneak past the entire stable crew with two ponies…  that trick was beyond their skill.  The fact that the ponies were gone disturbed him – the twins rarely rode anywhere alone, since most of their favorite play areas were well within an elfling’s walking range.

            “All were busy with a trio of fractious colts that were attempting to tear down their pens to attack each other out in the foal stables.” Erestor explained hastily.  The yearlings had just been brought in for training, and had not learned how to behave themselves yet.  Elrond suppressed a shudder, and was terribly glad he had made it perfectly clear to Elladan and Elrohir that they were to stay well away from the young unruly horses until they were calmed.  He knew, at the very least, that whatever trouble the twins were in, they were not trampled under the hooves of those excitable horses.

            “What of the Border Guard?  Have they not seen my sons?” Elrond asked Glorfindel, giving Erestor a much-appreciated reprieve.  When Elrond became focused in his questioning, it became rather nerve-wracking for the one being questioned.  The blonde Vanya shook his head.

:           “No news.  I hold hope that the twins may yet be in the valley.” Glorfindel answered calmly, firmly refusing the temptation to leap to the defense of his Guard.  Elrond was just worried – he should know that if the twins were spotted they would be brought in immediately, especially if they were found so close to the edge of the protected valley.

            The trio hurried into the armory.  The armory was usually Glorfindel’s haven and the gathering area for the Border Guard that Glorfindel trained.  Bright weapons, all polished and oiled, gleamed in the flickering torchlight.  The mingled smells of old and well-cared for leather, polish, burning pitch, and the horsy smell from the war tack filled the room.  Glorfindel automatically picked up his favorite knife and sword, but gave Elrond a surprised look when the half-elf chose a knife as well, strapping the belt around his waist.

            “Elrond… the entire Guard will be looking for them.  I will be looking for them.  You should stay here and comfort Celebrian.” He suggested.  He had already lost the twins – having to keep watch on Elrond’s safety as well… It was not as if he did not trust Elrond to take care of himself, it was just that he had made a promise a long time ago, and he meant to keep that promise.  Elrond favored him with a dark glower.

            “My sons are out there, alone, on today of all days.  I am going after them.”  The Lord of Imladris replied sternly.  Glorfindel, prince among elf-lords that he was, was singularly unimpressed by this show of lordly power.  Calmly he squared off against his liege-lord.

“If they are found by some other party, you would know faster if you stayed here, since they would be brought here immediately.” Glorfindel pointed out calmly, blocking Elrond’s path to the larger weapons.  While Elrond may be the lord of this haven, Glorfindel saw no need for Elrond’s will to hold sway when the half-elf wanted to do something he thought was particularly reckless.  Erestor kept well clear of the pair, though he watched intently.  He knew his way around a sword and knife – most elves that lived though the wars with Melkor and Sauron had learned one way or the other.  However, he was a scribe and scholar by choice, and left militant matters to those better suited for it.  That included facing down an angry, armed, and strong-willed father whose sons had gone missing.

“Stand aside, Glorfindel.  I cannot simply stay here and let others do what I should be doing just to uphold your ideas of propriety.  My sons need me.”  Elrond growled flatly, his bright grey eyes narrowing dangerously.  He knew what Glorfindel wanted – he had known the valiant warrior for too long not to know of the duty Glorfindel thought he must carry out.  He had been grateful for it more than once.  It had saved his life centuries ago in the Last Alliance, it had protected his sons… but he simply was not capable of staying behind, no matter what Glorfindel thought.  His frustration rose when his long-time friend did not budge an inch.

“What if they did leave Imladris, Elrond?  Would you follow them then?  Would you leave your people without a leader, and your wife without comfort?  It is not propriety I worry about, but rather your current attitude of racing where maia fear to tread.” Glorfindel replied brazenly, sternly forbidding himself the luxury of flinching at the harshness of his words.  In his current mood, Elrond would stop at nothing to ensure the safety of his sons… even if it meant his own life.  This worried Glorfindel to no end.  To his credit, Elrond did not lash back in anger.  The worried elf-lord considered the question, and if he did so without his usual calm and logical manner, it might be excused. 

“Yes, I would go.  They are my sons, Glorfindel.  You ask the impossible by wanting me to stay here where I cannot do either of them any good.” Elrond finally replied, in a tone much more calm than previously.  Unexpectedly, Glorfindel stepped aside, allowing Elrond passage.  Both Elrond and Erestor looked surprised at that – they expected a more vigorous battle.  Elrond did not fret about it, however.  He stepped forward quickly, searching for his old blade amongst the well-cared for array of weapons.  He was so intent on his search he did not hear Glorfindel step closer behind him, nor did he hear his old friend raise the pommel of his sword.  Before Erestor could cry out a warning, Glorfindel tapped the heavy pommel against the back of Elrond’s head, using only just enough force to knock the half-elf unconscious.  Carefully he caught Elrond before the stunned elf-lord could fall to the ground, gently laying him out flat on the cool time-smoothed floor.  His fair face wore a grieved expression as he checked Elrond’s pulse and breathing, making sure Elrond was merely unconscious.  Erestor hurried over, accusation in his eyes.  Glorfindel saw the storm of reproach coming, and forestalled it with an outstretched hand.

“He could not come, Erestor.  I do not know if I will find them, though I pray I will.  He is strong and capable, I know… but his thinking is clouded when it comes to his family.  He would not take care of himself if he thought recklessness would help find his sons.  Take care of him.” He ordered quietly before standing.  He gave his friend one last regretful look, then strode out the door.

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all things associated belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs – I am just playing for a while. I promise to put my toys away when I am done.
A/N: My apologies for the inordinate amount of time it took me to post the next chapter. And if someone could please tell me how to get this program to stop center aligning my story, I'd appreciate it.

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all things and people related to it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs. I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

When Elrond awoke, he almost instantly regretted that he had. His head ached furiously, sending pulsing pain from the back of his head through his brain. Worse than the pain was the feeling that he should be doing something, something very important… if only he could make the pain stop so he could think straight. His training as both a soldier and a healer took over and he laid still, trying to categorize the injuries done to him. His legs still worked, his arms were still attached… and he was dealt no major cuts or slashes, as far as he could tell… just the ferocious pain at the back of his head. Warily he lifted his left hand, reaching back to attempt to further investigate this injury. Another hand, softer and smaller than his own, captured and held his, stopping his movement.

“My lord? Lord Elrond, are you well?” an anxious and masculine voice asked somewhere off to his right. ‘Erestor’ he realized, recognizing the voice of his long-time councilor, and was secretly amused. One would think, after being with him for so long, that Erestor would drop the honorific when not in formal company. Ah well. If Erestor did that, Elrond might die from shock over the whole thing. In addition, Elrond decided matters must not be too grave, if it was Erestor at his side instead of a healer. He did wonder why it was Erestor calling him, and not Glorfindel – he had grown used to awaking in pain and hearing the stubborn warrior’s voice echoing in his ear from the long years of siege at Dagorlad. The nagging feeling from earlier assaulted him again, turning down the corners of his mouth in a worried frown. Where was he, and what has happening?

“Elrond… my love, open your eyes.” A second, decidedly feminine voice ordered, though her tone was bordering on outright mirth. There was, however, a note of sadness and worry in that voice. It was that worrisome tone, more than anything else, which convinced him to finally open his eyes. The fact that they were closed was a minor worry – however, if his wife and chief councilor saw no reason to fret over it, then neither should he.

“Celebrian? What is wrong?” he asked before his eyes could focus properly. Gradually the lovely vision of the silver-haired elf-maiden that was his wife swam into clear view. Absently he noted from the light shining through the window behind his wife that it was mid-day already. He was in his own room, with Erestor sitting stiffly in a carved chair and Celebrian curled up beside him in bed.

“What do you remember?” Erestor questioned quietly from his other side. Elrond frowned slightly without taking his eyes from Celebrian as he considered the question. Muddled memories slowly worked their way to the surface as he concentrated. “The Dunédain… they came for help in the night. I had to pacify that ignoble brute first… and then I went to see Elladan and Elrohir…” his grey eyes widened in shock, and he tried to sit up. Celebrian laid a restraining hand on his chest.

“Rest, Glorfindel and the search parties are long gone. He has been sending back reports every hour… the next messenger is due soon.” The wise silver lady soothed. Elrond did not reply, instead turning to glare daggers at his remaining councilor.

“You let him leave?” His voice was silky and calm, but the terrifying fury in his eyes made Erestor’s heart quail. Elrond was an elf-lord of power, the heir and herald of the High King Gil-galad, and was not to be trifled with lightly. “You let him leave without challenge, without rebuke? Erestor, he countermanded my orders, directly disobeying my will in this matter.” His voice was cold and hard, and Erestor was beginning to believe he would rather his lord raged and fumed rather than have him continue in this tightly controlled manner.

“My lord Elrond, I…” Erestor nervously began, but Elrond swiftly cut him off with a commanding gesture.

“No. I do not wish to hear it. Leave us.” He ordered quietly, but there was finality in his voice that kept Erestor from protesting. Without another word, Erestor silently rose and left the room, courteously shutting the door behind him. Celebrian gave her husband a stern glance, shaking her head.

“He did not deserve that. He has been beside himself with worry since you were brought in, my love.” She admonished him gently, running a soothing hand through his dark tresses. Elrond sighed and pulled himself up as Celebrian propped up pillows behind him so he could sit comfortably. His head still ached, but the pain was manageable.

“I know he did not, and I will apologize to him… assuming he will ever let me close enough to do so.” Elrond replied ruefully, and then shook his head gingerly, finally looking away in shame. “I am sorry, nin-meleth. I meant to bring them back to you. I…” Celebrian laid a hand over his lips, her other hand turning his head towards her so she could meet his eyes.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for. They are safe; you know this too be true. If they were not, you would most certainly know. Glorfindel will find them. Have you ever known him to fail in what he sets out to do?” Celebrian asked softly, resuming her comforting ministrations. Elrond gave his wife a soft smile, and lifted a hand to copy her movements.

“Nin-meleth, it is I who is supposed to be comforting you.” He protested gently. Guilt and worry still wrenched his heart when he thought of his boys. Celebrian shook her head.

“Allow me this small distraction, Elrond. If I think of them, out there, alone, I shall go mad with worry.” She begged, here bright blue eyes finally filling with tears. Her heart was well nigh broken with fear when she thought of her sons and only by caring for her husband was she able to stay calm. Elrond saw this with a keen glance and nodded. Slowly he shifted to curl his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest, and together they waited for the latest news, both anticipating and dreading its coming.

Glorfindel splashed over the Ford of Bruinen, his company hard on his heels. He held up a hand to halt them before they reached the far shore, not wanting any tracks trampled beyond recognition. Slowly and carefully, he rode forward and turned to move along the riverbank, searching for the precious marks he knew must be here. They had been following the twins’ trail since high noon, moving as best they could with the narrow and sometimes-faint trail. They were reaching muddier land now, which boded well for tracking if their light held. It was early enough in the year that the night still came swiftly and with a bone-freezing chill. In another hour or so night would fall, and the new moon would lend little light to aid their search. There! He leaned over Asfaloth’s neck to peer at the hoof imprints. Yes, these were the twins’ ponies… he motioned for the company to follow him as he kneed Asfaloth forward.

He had just left the river when two shrill neighs broke the still afternoon air, and the sound of galloping hooves came steadily closer. His ears pricked and he leaned forward in the saddle. Could the twins be returning? He was fully prepared to welcome the twins home, with reprimands of course, when the two master-less ponies broke through the cover of the forest and bolted towards him. He paled at the sight of them – muddied, with their sides heaving. Stormy bore a jagged slash along his flank, and the whites of both ponies’ eyes were showing. With an outward calm he did not truly feel, murmuring soothing words, he dismounted and reached for both of the scared mounts. Another of his company dismounted to aid him, and soon both ponies were caught and examined. They only bore their tack: there was no sign of either the twins or their packs, which the kitchen staff assured him both twins carried. He ran a hand through Stormy’s mane as he considered his next move. Finally, he called a messenger forth.

“Lead both of these ponies back to the stables, then tell Lord Elrond that I ride on. Tell him…” he paused and closed his eyes, already regretting the pain he had caused and would cause his long-time friend. “Tell him I will not come back without them.” Without another word, he swung up into Asfaloth’s saddle.

“We ride on, by sun or by starlight! We do not return without the sons of Elrond Peredhil!” he cried defiantly at whatever fate wished to oppose him. Then he kneed Asfaloth, and the noble charger reared and leapt forward, following the outgoing path of hoof prints in the mud. The bells on his horse’s harness rang shrilly in the chill afternoon air. His company gathered and charged behind them, leaving the lone elf with his two new equine charges. Slowly the elf mounted his own quiet gelding, and they re-crossed the ford, making their careful way back to Imladris.