Lost Soul

by FirstMate

Disclaimer:  LOTR is not mine.  Just borrowing a few of Tolkien’s characters for fun, not profit.

A/N:  This is a companion piece to my earlier story “Lost.”  It’s a short, oneshot look at some of Elladan’s thoughts while he was searching for his missing twin.  It’s something of a filler…not huge on plot, so if you haven’t read “Lost,” it might be a bit boring.  I wrote it as a little Christmas gift to all of the readers out there who enjoy my stories and especially for those who send me back the gift of a review.  Thank you, my friends!  I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

There are warm, steady rains that quench the earth’s thirst, filling streams and rivers with life-giving moisture.  There are rains that softly cool a scorching summer day and are blessed by the hot, dusty traveler.  And there are even thunderous, violent rains that pound the earth with fury, but afterwards leave the land and air cleansed and refreshed.  But then there are rains that seem to have no purpose other than to test one’s soul—rains that sap strength and leave their victims wrapped in cold misery.  It was that sort of rain that fell on Elladan, firstborn son of the elven Lord Elrond, as he made his way through the wet, comfortless land.

As he rode in silence, Elladan grimly reflected that this grey, cold land perfectly suited him.  In truth, he was grateful for it.  He had come to despise sunshine and the bright, cheery skies that begged to lighten his heart.  He didn’t want to feel happy.  He didn’t deserve to feel happy.  Not since he had lost his twin.  Nearly two years had passed since Elrohir had failed to return home from a horse-buying trip and each day weighed on Elladan as if it were a year—countless days of searching but never finding, countless days of hoping only to have those hopes crushed mercilessly again and again.  No, he had failed to find his brother and did not deserve the grace of sunshine.

Elladan rode along, oblivious to the icy rain seeping beneath his cloak as he became lost in memories of the endless, lonely search.  He hadn’t started out alone.  When Elrohir had initially gone missing, the search parties had included most of the inhabitants of Imladris as well as many elves from neighboring realms.  In time, however, people had to go on living and most had to abandon the search in order to return to their day-to-day lives.  A smaller group had continued on—Elladan of course, but also his young foster brother, Estel, along with a small group of their friends.  They had searched together for almost a year, following every lead they could find, no matter how unlikely.  But there were precious few clues as to where Elrohir might have gone.  He had vanished somewhere between the realm of Rohan and their home in Rivendell.  No signs of a struggle.  No signs of his horse.  And no signs of the young elven lord himself.  Not one.  He was just…gone.

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A soft snort from Isilmë brought his mind back into the present.  His eyes quickly found what his horse had seen and he gently indicated to Isilmë to stop.  Down in the valley beneath a side trail lay a small human village and Elladan studied it carefully as he decided whether or not he should leave the main path.  How many of these villages had he visited now?  He’d lost count.  It didn’t really matter, though.  One was just like the next.  He would ride in and the people of the village would react to his presence with surprise, some even with awe.  Then they would see his face and the people would grow wary, afraid, sometimes hostile.  He didn’t care.  It didn’t matter to him that his grim face and hard expression scared them.  He, Elladan, who had always had such an easy way with humans, couldn’t find it within himself to be bothered by what they thought of him.  It was easier to just close off his feelings until he found his twin.

Pushing aside idle thoughts, his keen eyes took in every detail of the village below.  From the thatched huts, to the village square, to the surrounding fields, he took note of everything and then decided the side trip wouldn’t be worth his effort.  To and from the village would take a good day’s ride and he had wanted to reach Briarwood in the next couple of days where he’d heard a wounded elf had been seen.  With a nudge, he prompted Isilmë to keep going.

He immediately forgot the nameless village as his thoughts drifted back to the time just after Elrohir had vanished.  Estel’s company had especially helped him through those first days of almost panicked searching.  The boy had grown into a strong, caring young man and his steady optimism had been a balm to Elladan’s fears.  Although he would never allow others to see them, those fears were deep and painful.  Even though Elladan believed that his twin was alive—he felt sure he would know if Elrohir had died—he was terrified that he might not ever find him.  Something was…wrong…and he felt a dread in his heart like none he’d ever known.  Not even when he’d known that his mother had been taken by orcs had he felt so lost.  This time, it was the other half of his soul that was missing and at times his despair threatened to drown him.  Estel’s comforting presence had been the only thing that carried him through those first horrid months.

A sigh escaped him as grimly reflected on the last time he’d seen his youngest brother, last year during another time of cold, bitter rain.  He and Estel had drawn hunting detail while the rest of the small search party had rode into the town of Timbercreek to look for signs of their missing lord.  When he’d returned to their camp with Estel, the others were already there and he had overheard them sorrowfully discussing their belief that Elrohir was probably dead.  Hurt, angry, and bitterly disappointed, Elladan had not been able to restrain his fury and after telling them all exactly what he thought of their beliefs, had fled the camp to nurse his inner wounds in private.  By morning he had calmed down enough to return to the camp and apologize for his outburst, but the truth could no longer be hidden and after just another week in their company, he had finally asked his companions to return home.  Estel had wanted to stay, but he, too, had been sent back with the others when Elladan decided it was time the young man should move on with his life.

There were many times that Elladan had regretted that decision, especially when the loneliness of the search threatened to shatter his soul, but in his heart he knew that it had been the right choice.  Estel needed to find his place amongst his people and the search for Elrohir could stretch out for endless years—years that might amount to the entirety of a human’s life.  As much as he treasured Estel’s companionship, he wouldn’t risk his brother’s future just so he was not alone.

So it was with deep sadness that Elladan had watched his companions leave.  Yes, he had asked them to go, but it was still hard to accept just how alone he was when the last of them rode out of his sight.  When they were well and truly gone, Elladan had climbed to the top of the highest tree he could find and sat there for days, ignoring a freezing wind and soaking rain as he waited for the clouds to clear so he could finally see the stars and decide on his course.  On the third night, the cloud cover broke and at last the night sky cleared above him.  It was then that he fully embraced the idea that he may end up spending the rest of his life searching for his twin.  It was a sobering thought, but as he gazed upon his grandfather’s star, he knew it was his only choice.  With the stars as his witness, he swore to Elrohir that no matter how long it took, no matter what the cost, he would never stop.  He would find him.  And only then would he rest.

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Once again pulled from his melancholy thoughts by a soft sound from Isilmë, Elladan noted that they were well past the village and were now at the edge of a thick stand of trees.  He hadn’t planned on stopping just yet, but the rain was still coming down in icy sheets and he knew he his faithful horse deserved a break from the punishing weather. 

He found a bit of shelter beneath the tightly woven canopy of branches and wearily slid from Isilmë’s back.  For just a moment, he leaned against his horse and allowed the warmth of his only companion to seep into his frozen limbs.  With others, Elladan had become a hard, cold creature, but with Isilmë he would still let down his guard.  After all, his beloved companion could make him feel closer to Elrohir than anyone else at the moment, for the horse had been a gift from his twin.  An unexpected, treasured gift. 

Elrohir had raised Isilmë from newborn and then had spent nearly every free moment for over two years training him.  Often Elladan would watch his brother as he taught Isilmë everything he’d need to know to be a warrior’s steed and if truth be told, Elladan even allowed himself a twinge of jealousy as he viewed the two working together.  Someday Elrohir would be able to ride this magnificent animal into battle and Elladan could only imagine what a formidable pair they would make.  His twin had a special gift with horses and he knew that there would be no finer mount than Isilmë by the time Elrohir was finished with him.

He had absolutely no clue of his twin’s plans for the horse until one day when Elrohir had asked him to come by the training site.  When he’d arrived, Elrohir had led the beautiful animal over for inspection and asked what he’d thought.  When he’d truthfully told Elrohir how proud he was of his twin’s efforts and that it was the most amazing horse he’d ever seen, his brother had flashed one of his joyful, brilliant smiles and simply said, “I am so glad you like him.  He is yours.”  Even now, that memory could bring back the same sense of humbled love that had washed over him when he’d realized what his brother had been doing.  Elrohir had never intended to keep Isilmë for himself—he had always been intended as a gift.  There had been no special occasion that had warranted it.  It was a simple expression of love and it was the remembered warm inner glow of that love that helped strengthen Elladan even on his loneliest, darkest days of searching.

Shaking off the memory, for it also reminded him of an almost crippling sense of loss, Elladan gave Isilmë a light pat on the neck and mindlessly set up his camp for the night. 

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The next morning brought no relief from the harsh, cruel rain.  Even Elladan, an elf whose tolerance of cold was far greater than that of humans, could not help but feel its icy fingers twist about him.  It helped sharpen his dark mood and it was thus a very grim-faced elf that set out once again for Briarwood.

Several hours of riding brought Elladan to the little town nestled in the foothills of the Grey Mountains.  He had heard from a group of travelers that the people of Briarwood were aiding a gravely wounded elf that they’d found in the woods.  When he’d heard it, the story had filled him with the first real sense of hope he’d felt in months, despite an inner dread concerning the elf’s wounds.  But as he looked at the town below, shrouded by the grey torrent of rain, his already dark mood strengthened and nearly banished the hope entirely.  What if it was Elrohir down there?  They had said the elf in question had been horribly wounded—had lost one arm already due to an untreated injury.  He would love and care for his twin no matter what, but what would such a wound do to his light-hearted brother?  How would it affect the joyous way he embraced life?  Would he ever be able to overcome such a thing?  Depending on what else he’d suffered, perhaps he’d lose his himself the same way their mother had and be forced to sail away.  Even worse, perhaps he’d find himself overcompensating for his infirmity during battle and end up getting himself killed trying to prove to others that he was still a formidable warrior.  Perhaps…

While these and other depressing, bleak conjectures threaded their way through Elladan’s thoughts, he continued down the path until he entered the town, once again not caring how his severe, almost angry expression affected those who saw him.  It disturbed the townspeople who had only seen a few other elves in their lifetimes, and they feared this tall, foreboding creature who rode amongst them.

Elladan, oblivious of this affect, spent the rest of the morning trying to get information out of the townspeople, who he finally decided were either completely dim-witted or, for some other reason, disinclined to speak to him.  His frustration only added to his threatening appearance and he might not have had any luck at all, except in a moment of despair, he allowed the mask to slip for just a moment and a young man who had been watching him caught a glimpse of the heartbroken, wounded soul of the elf before he put his mask firmly back in place.

Gathering up the courage to address the once-again foreboding being, Frederick, the young man, spoke, “Sir, I heard you ask about a wounded elf.  Why is it that you hunt him?  Has he done something wrong?”

Elladan gazed at the man before him, almost bewildered to have one of the townspeople address him willingly as all they’d done up to that point was avoid him.  Softening his countenance just a fraction, he said, “Nay, the one I seek has done nothing wrong.  I am looking for my brother, who went missing well over a year ago.  I had heard of an elf being seen here and was hoping perhaps it might be him.”

Frederick visibly relaxed at those words.  He personally had spent many hours with the injured elf and would not have betrayed him if the fierce-looking hunter had meant him harm.  He hesitated for a bit, trying to determine the best course of action, but then reflected on the sad expression he’d briefly glimpsed on the elf’s face and, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, decided to trust him.

“There was an elf here,” he said, “who spent many months in our town recovering from dreadful injuries.  He told us he’d been caught in a rockslide and barely made it here alive.  John, from one of the outlying farms, found him.  Despite his injuries, he was a wonderfully pleasant, friendly sort and the town rather adopted him while he recovered.  It soon seemed like he’d always been here—he was a favorite with the children, joined us in singing at our summer festival, and even taught us some of the elven dances he said he’d learned as a child.  He is a joy to be around.”

Elladan listened to the young man’s narration with barely concealed, growing impatience.  He didn’t want to hear about what the elf had done.  The elf could have taught them to juggle pumpkins for all he cared!  He just wanted to know if it could be his brother and also where he was.  Making a heroic effort to hide at least some of his frustration, he asked, “Can you tell me what he looked like?  And where can I find this ‘friendly’ elf?”

A light frown passed over Frederick’s face when he heard the shade of sarcasm in the elf’s voice.  Choosing to overlook it, he answered, “I guess he looked like you, really—like an elf, you know?  He was tall, dark-haired, nice smile…” Frederick glanced at the grim, glaring face in front of him and blanched, suddenly losing his train of thought.  He was not even able to imagine this elf ever smiling. 

He decided to drop the description and hurriedly moved to answer the second question, “We haven’t seen him for about three months, when he went out to old man Norbert’s farm to help him with late season crops.  The two of them got along quite well and Norbert really needed the help since his son passed several years ago, so the two of them left before the rainy season began.  The farm is in the next valley over.  If you wish to go there, you follow the north fork of the river until you reach a saddle between the mountains, and then you cross it into the valley.  The farm is visible from there, but this time of year the passage is not easy—the heavy rains making much of the path quite tricky.”

“I will take the chance,” said Elladan, almost shaking with impatience after hearing the description—tall, dark-haired, looked like him.  It had to be Elrohir!  He knew it!  Remembering his manners enough to add, “I thank you for your help,” he turned and leapt onto his horse, tipped his head in farewell, and rode off without another word.

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The ride to the next valley was just as hard as the young man had described and Elladan found himself having to travel very slowly in order to avoid slipping in the river of mud that marked the trail.  He could understand why none had crossed it in the last few months, but now that he was so close, nothing was going to stop him from finding his long lost twin.  Nothing!

Elladan arrived at the farm in mid afternoon, a quick look about the dilapidated place confirming that Frederick had spoken truthfully when he said that the farmer could use some help.  The structures appeared basically sound, but there were signs of neglect and disrepair throughout much of the farm.  A twinge of worry shot through Elladan as he wondered what had prevented his brother from doing a better job at fixing the place up.  Elrohir had not been trained as a farmer, of course, but he was strong and clever and should have been able to make things much better than this if he’d been there for several months.

Realizing that conjecture wouldn’t give him any answers, Elladan dismounted and began looking around for someone.  After just a short while, he saw an old man coming out of the barn, who stopped dead when he saw the tall, dark elf staring at him.

“Well, look what popped up in my yard!  Good day!  Is there something I can do for ye?” asked the man in a surprisingly strong and welcoming voice.

Too impatient for pleasantries, Elladan stated, “I am looking for an elf.  I was told one might be here.”

“Hmpf.  Not much for small talk, are ye?” asked the man with a raised eyebrow and an amused look that still managed to rebuke the young elf for his rudeness.  It reminded Elladan so strongly of the look his father would have given him if he’d seen his son’s discourteous behavior, that the elf felt himself blushing.  “My name is Norbert,” the man continued, “and this here is my farm.  Now would ye like to start again with what ye need?”

Abashed that he was being called to task, Elladan said with true repentance, “My apologies, sir.  I have been searching for a long time and seem to have lost my manners somewhere along the trail.  My name is Elladan, and the elf I seek is very dear to me, so I am anxious to see if he is here.  In town a young man said that you had taken on the care of an injured elf.  Can you please tell me if he is all right?  Is he still here?”

The man seemed to hesitate forever before he answered.  A look of pure sorrow passed over his face before he sighed and said, “Aye, ye’ve found the right place, but Walter has been gone now for nigh on a month.”

“Walter?” asked Elladan in surprise, his emotions somewhere in between crushing disappointment that the elf wasn’t Elrohir and relief that it wasn’t his twin who had been so badly injured.

“Oh, Walter wasn’t his real name,” the man said.  “It’s just what I called him.  Just couldn’t pronounce his real one properly, so I told him I’d call him Walter after my Grandda.  The two of them didn’t look anything alike, but there was something in Walter’s eyes that reminded me so much of Grandda.  A strength to be sure, but also a kindness and a love of life that just seemed to jump out and grab you.”  Norbert’s expression softened into a remembered smile as he said, “When I told him how I was going to call him after Grandda, he just grinned in that easy way of his and said it would do, so he was my Walter after that.”

Elladan processed this new information rapidly as his thoughts took another quick turn.  So, the elf was probably still Elrohir.  He mouthed ‘Walter’ in amusement, surprised at himself for feeling anything even remotely lighthearted, let alone showing it.  Well, he would get no end of joy in teasing Elrohir about the new name and he found himself grinning at the thought.  ‘Elrohir Elrondian.’  Yes, perhaps that had been a mouthful for the old man.  Names aside, though, now he just needed to find “Walter” and determine his current wellness.

“So you said he left nearly a month ago,” asked Elladan, still with a lightened expression gracing his face.  “Do you know where he is now?”

“I told you he was gone,” Norbert responded, with an undecipherable expression.

“Aye, you did, but…”

The old man didn’t even let Elladan finish his sentence before interrupting, “Don’t ye understand?  He wasn’t healed.”

“Not healed?  Is that why he chose to leave?  Was he looking for medicine he could not obtain here?” asked Elladan, not following the man’s logic.

Norbert stood in front of the tall elven lord, a good head shorter but looking angry now at having to be blunt when he was trying not to be, “Are ye dense, lad?  ‘Twasn’t by choice that he left.  Told me at the end that there was something wrong inside.  Something that never healed.  I buried him over yonder, under that tree where he’d like to sit.”

‘Buried?’  Had the man just said ‘buried?’  Elladan almost lost consciousness as a sudden darkness tunneled his vision.  In fact, he did stumble when thorough understanding finally pierced him.  Only the sturdy walls of the barn kept him from falling to the ground, barely aware when the farmer grabbed his arm in support.

“Ye all right there, boy?” asked Norbert a bit anxiously, not having expected such a strong reaction.  “Ye did say ye knew Walter, eh?  Were he a very good friend, then?”

Tear bright eyes flashed as Elladan raised his head, indignant at the stupid question.  “Know him?  Can you not see that we are brothers?  That we look just alike?” he spat, his grief nearly overpowering him.

Norbert let go of Elladan’s arm and stepped back.  He squinted and stared at the elf, then shook his head.  His eyes may not be what they used to be, but he didn’t think Walter looked anything like Elladan.  “Lad,” he said carefully, “I have known only a handful of elves in my time, but I don’t see anything in ye that reminds me of my Walter.  Aye, yer both tall with dark hair and…well…elvish.  But yer face is quite different and if nothing else, Walter’s eyes were a palish sort of brown.  If he is truly yer kin, I am sorry for the loss, but I don’t see the sameness you speak of.”

The other elf’s eyes were brown!  Elladan staggered again with this fresh information, his thoughts in a whirl as his emotions were yanked to and fro.  Brown!  It wasn’t Elrohir.  Elrohir wasn’t dead!

“It wasn’t Elrohir?  The elf you found wasn’t my brother?”  Elladan asked in bewilderment.  So who had this strange elf been?  He had to know.  Perhaps there was someone searching everywhere for him and Elladan could finally put their mind at rest.  Trying to regain a fraction of his usual composure, he asked, “Did he tell you anything about himself?  Where he was from?  If I could, I would tell his family of his fate.”

Norbert nodded soberly.  “He spoke of his home in the great woods.  No wife or wee ones, but he had parents and a little sister that he wanted to send word to.  I have a paper that Walter wrote up at the end, hoping some day there’d be a way to get it to his family.  Wait here and I’ll fetch it.”

The old man could move quickly when he wanted, and he was back from the house in just moments with a scroll that he handed to Elladan, looking at it wistfully as he said, “Never could read his fancy writing meself, of course, but Walter said it would explain everything.  Can you tell where he was from?”

Still reeling from the realization that the elf he had been so certain would be his brother was instead a stranger, Elladan took the scroll and carefully unrolled it.  He skimmed over the elvish script quickly, feeling a sadness build in him as he read the last words of Telemandius Winthrosion, a young elf from Mirkwood who had barely reached his majority, but had been an adventurous fellow who wanted to learn about the world outside his forest, so he began traveling in order to see new places and meet new people.  His fate was nothing more than an unfortunate accident—caught in a simple rock slide far from anyone who had proper training in healing.  The good people of Briarwood had found him barely alive, but had cared for him as best they could.  However, in the end he had known that his wounds had been too grave and something had been festering inside for quite awhile before he died.  He asked for whoever found the scroll to please find a way to tell his family of his fate and let them know that he missed them terribly, but he had died happy, amongst friends.

Almost wordless in his sorrow to hear of so young a one’s unfortunate fate, Elladan thanked the old farmer and, promising to get the scroll to ‘Walter’s’ family, and after chatting with him for a short while, politely took his leave of him.

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The elf that made his way out of the valley was nothing like the one who had entered.  While dealing with the old farmer at the end, Elladan had pushed aside his shock over hearing, supposedly, of his twin’s death, but now that he was alone again, he couldn’t prevent the horror from again consuming him.  His emotions had been caught up in a tornado and he was nearly insensible as Isilmë safely took him back over the river of mud.  A shiver coursed through Elladan’s body periodically as he rode without conscious thought—hope, joy, excitement, amusement, horror, dread, fear, relief, sadness…he had experienced them all in such a short period of time and now he was left feeling wasted…exhausted. 

When Isilmë stopped abruptly, nearly dumping him onto the ground, he looked up and noticed that they were out of the valley and had apparently been traveling for some while, as it was getting rather dark.  Unable to even think about where to go or what to do next, he dismounted ungracefully and then fell to his knees in the mud.  Tears were an indulgence he wouldn’t allow himself, but he couldn’t stop his trembling body from finally reacting to the shock he’d experienced and found that his legs wouldn’t support him.  To have believed that Elrohir was dead, for even a minute, had hurt worse than a thousand sword thrusts into his stomach.  Even now, after he knew the dead elf wasn’t his twin, he was still finding it hard to regain his equilibrium and slowly bent over, his arms coming up to cradle his head as he tried to pull himself back together.  His breath came in deep gasps as overwhelming relief conflicted with the devastating disappointment that he still hadn’t found his twin.  In the end, that was the truth facing him.  Elrohir was still just as lost and he had no new ideas on where to look for him. 

Elladan sat in the mud all night, not looking for shelter and for the first time ever, not even seeing to Isilmë’s needs.  His loyal companion didn’t seem to mind, though.  He somehow seemed to understand that for this night, Elladan was incapable of doing anything beyond simple breathing.  He sidled a bit closer to the huddled shape and that’s how the two passed the long, cold night, Isilmë standing guard over his distraught master until the first rays of the sun lightened the morning sky.

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Two weeks later, Elladan had left behind the sharp peaks and valleys of the Grey Mountains and was traveling amongst the inhospitable villages that dotted plains to the west.  If he had seemed cold and unapproachable before, he was even more so now.  His experience at the farm had taught him not to let down his emotional shields for anything and now they were more firmly in place than ever. 

Therefore, it was only by great luck that a message that had been left for him was actually delivered.  It had been left at a great number of villages that Elladan had already visited, but no one had been willing to approach the terrifying elven warrior and tell him of it.  But fortunately, in one of the small villages there was an old soldier who had fought with Elladan many years before and recognized his long-ago companion.  He was determined to deliver the news that had been left with him, but even so, the soldier approached the lone elf carefully, knowing something bad must have happened to separate him from his brother.  When he spoke to Elladan, he barely saw a glimpse of the bright spirit he’d known from before, but was rewarded with a slight smile when Elladan heard that a message had been left for him from Estel.

Elladan listened to the message eagerly but it was disappointingly simple.  Estel needed him and he was asked to meet his brother.  It gave an approximate location and direction and that was all.

The elf’s initial reaction to the message was one of concern.  He knew Estel would only call him away from his search for something major, something that he and the rangers couldn’t take care of themselves.  He never once considered that Estel may have found Elrohir—it never crossed his mind that someone not looking for his twin would stumble across him.  Eventually, though a spark of joy started coursing through Elladan, despite his firm desire to keep all his emotions locked away.  For whatever cause, he would soon be meeting up again with his little brother and he knew that he needed the freshness that encounter would bring to his spirit.  With a renewed lightness of heart, rode out to meet his brother.

A/N:  This is where the story meets back up with “Lost,” after Estel finds Elrohir and needs Elladan’s help to get their brother back home.  Well, hope you enjoyed this little story.  I know it’s a bit patchy in places, but I wrote it quickly so I could get it out before the holidays.  Cheers!  Firstmate.