She was lying on damp rock but she did not care. The roughness cut into her cheek and stung her raw grazes but she no longer had the spirit to move. She could not tell how long she had been lying here, still in the position in which she had hit the ground, watching foul smelling water drip from the algae lined streams on the walls. She wished that she could cry or sleep. Anything to break the nothingness that had enveloped her. But her body seemed to have gone beyond that. The pain from her wounds seemed insignificant now, all there was left to do was lie in the earthy smelling gloom watching as the trickle of water ran down the roughly hewn rocks and pooled on the floor, soaking through the tattered remains of her garments.

Somewhere there was disturbance. Shouts, clanging of metal, shrieks of pain. Maybe she should turn, but she could not face looking at them. Maybe she should look for a chance to escape, but there would be no hiding - not from this.

Rough hands seized her dragging her limp body to her feet. Her arm caught on the rough edge of a mail shirt. The tearing should have hurt, but strangely she felt nothing, instead watching in a detached manner as the deep red liquid welled up around the wound and trickled down her arm. The shouting was too loud now, bodies jostling past, too many faces lit only by a pale flame.

They were trying to take her somewhere. Dragging her against the rush, deeper into the shadows and slime covered tunnels. She did not want this, not again. It could not happen. Even death was better than this. Using her last ounce of strength she attempted the only defence available to her and dropped to her knees, landing on the floor with a crack, but mercifully free from the damp scaly hands.

Dazed from her fall she flinched back as claw-like hands reached for her, they must not touch her. Finally just as the hand reached greedily for her shoulder it jerked back as an arrow plunged into its owner's chest. Desperately she managed to drag herself into a corner, away from the trampling feet of the swiftly decreasing numbers of orcs.

The figure was only a shadow urgently letting arrows fly and swiping at closer opponents with a double-handed grip on his sword. Although it was dark she knew it was Elladan. The motions, the energy and the deathly silence as he fought were all his.

When had he grown into this? He was still her son, still a child. The cuddly elfling had never had any of this brutality or anger. Even as a lanky young elf eager to taste battle he had never seemed this cold, this distant. It was quiet in her mind, for the first time she seemed unable to connect with him or share his feelings. Maybe because the noise of her own grief was raging so loudly in her head that it blocked out anything else. Even hope.

Suddenly the room seemed strangely quiet. The noise of battle seemed to be fading into the distance. Celebrian relaxed slightly. Finally it had come. Peace. They could not hurt her anymore.

"Ammë." The voice was both desperate and doubtful.

Celebrian reluctantly allowed her eyes to focus. The room was now empty apart from a lean figure leaping over bodies to reach her.

Elladan.

He could not see her like this. Nobody could. The shame burnt too dreadfully. Had the Valar not the mercy to grant her wish.

"Ammë!" A strong arm slipped round her back, lifting her into a sitting position. Warm liquid soaked through her clothing at one point. He was hurt. She should be helping him. Lifting the child onto the tall stools of the infirmary and cuddling him as she daubed on the ointment. But she could not even make eye contact.

"Ammë, I am here." Gloved fingers slipped to her neck, checking the pulse, and lifting her chin to look into his face.

When had he stopped being a boy? All of the joyfulness of youth had gone there was no laugh playing in those grey eyes. Grey eyes that he had inherited from his father. Eyes that were quickly filling with horror as he surveyed his mother.

Feebly Celebrian attempted to pull the rags of her clothing to hide her wounded body. The young face had twisted in disgust and he had sprung up from his kneeling position and had walked to a corner.

She could not go back. She could not face their disgust, their condemnation, and the shame.

The sound of retching brought her attention back to her son, who was now bent over in the corner, vomit splashing to the stone at his feet.

She should have protected him from this. She was his mother. She should never have allowed him to be exposed to the horror.

Her mouth was to dry to allow her to call his name. The attempt only produced an alien rasping noise. She was useless. He needed her and she was unable to help. How many times had she put a child to bed and sat by them, wiping their face and hands with a cloth soaked in warm fragrant water. And now when she needed to most she was unable to even place an arm around the heaving shoulders.

She had to come back. She needed to be there for them. With a desperate effort Celebrian fully opened her eyes and attempted to sit up.

"Elladan." It was a hoarse whisper but enough to make him turn and wipe his mouth on his sleeve before coming over and kneeling on the floor beside her.

"I am sorry Ammë."

A warm tear fell from his cheek onto her bare arm. Celebrian attempted to make some form of eye contact. To offer some form of comfort. She had not seen Elladan cry, not for centuries. Not since he had been so small that she had been able to pick him up for a cuddle. But now she could not even lift her hand to touch his face.

Struggling to contain his feelings Elladan unfastened the small silver brooch that fastened his cloak and wrapped the warm woollen fabric around the bruised narrow shoulders. There was something in the familiar blue eyes that bothered him. It was not that they showed pain. . . just emptiness. . .almost as if the soul had gone.

Gently lifting his mother into his arms he left the dank darkness of the cavern, hoping that neither of them should ever have cause to return.

"Elladan!" Elrohir came pelting down the passageway, sword in hand. He had taken the left fork of the tunnel when the twins had split up in their haste to find their mother, but despite having cleared the network of tunnels in his side had found no sign of her.

"I cannot. . . oh. . ." The younger twin stopped suddenly as he saw the crumpled bundle in his brother's arms. Hot tears cut pale pathways through the grime on his cheeks. "She. . . she. . ?"

"She lives." Elladan's voice felt foreign to his tongue. His mouth numbly forming words he had never thought he would have to say.

"Oh Ammë," Elrohir's boots pounded on the dirty rock as he ran over to his brother, "We are here. You are safe."

It was all going hazy now, time passing in blurred confusion. The cloak wrapped around her seemed intolerably itchy on her bare skin but she had not the strength to do anything about it. He was walking carefully, carrying her smoothly. It did not matter now. Could he not see that?

The air was getting fresher out here. She had long despaired of ever being free to enjoy the scent of the grass and wild flowers that lined the pass again. How could flowers grow so close to this? Did they not know what had happened?

More noises. He will not be able to defend himself holding this burden. He should let her fall. But it is Elrohir. My Elrohir. He could not stand to see her like this. He would not cope. They were too close. The pain would cut too deeply. He would know.

Celebrian weakly turned her head to press her face against her older son's chest. The cold mithril plates were strangely comforting. Something of home. Something that signified safety. If only it had been any other. There were hundreds of soldiers available in the Imladris Guard. Who had decided that her children should be subjected to this?

"She lives."

In body maybe but not in spirit. Who knew what harm she was causing them? Elladan did not speak like that. Where was the laughter, the teasing and the life? Had she not been able to hear the steady rhythm of his heart pounding she would have doubted his living. That cold dead voice did not belong to anyone she knew.

"Ammë?"

Elrohir is here. She could feel him crying, his breath coming in gasps that warmed the back of her neck. He had thought to remove his filthy gloves and his warm fingertips stroked the bruised cheek. She would not look at him. He must be protected from this knowledge. He was so sensitive, so gentle. She should be coming out to meet him as he returned from battle, and laughing he should be picking her up and swinging her round. They had grown so big.

"Let me Elladan." Gentle arms slipped around her body, trying to take the burden himself. But Elladan did not yield.

"We must hurry. I will take her." The grip tightened slightly. Elladan would not let her go again. Elrohir's disagreement was evident in the tautness of his muscles but as ever he backed down. For a moment Celebrian had been afraid that the twins would argue as they had done since childhood. Who owned what? Who had done that? But nobody would want her. Not when they knew.

"Where was she?" Ever the peacemaker, Elrohir's voice held no trace of annoyance. He was moving, trying to see into the cavern. He must not see what happened there. Celebrian tried to speak but her strength failed. She was trapped in a useless body. She had to shield him from this but her muscles no longer obeyed her instructions.

"We must hurry Elrohir!" Elladan's voice was deadly and clipped with anger. Side -stepping with more haste than smoothness he blocked the view into the cavern with his body. Celebrian's whole body relaxed in relief. Elladan would protect him. He had always fought for the pair of them, taken the conflict of two onto his shoulders.

Elladan could take this. He was strong.

Celebrian winced slightly as Elladan heaved her onto the back of his horse, and in a smooth movement mounted behind her. As the constant horror faded and she drifted back to the present she was beginning to feel a dull ache in her body and every inch of her skin felt bruised and was painful to touch. The grip relaxed slightly, holding her tentatively, afraid that she would break.

She had not realised how cold she had become. The warmth from Elladan's body and the muscular back of the large dark brown horse was slowly bringing her back into the world of the living. The weak autumn sun was too bright and the light breeze harsh against her skin. Whimpering slightly she managed to turn her face against her son's shoulder. The roughly woven fabric of his tunic was warm and damp against her cheek. He was hurt. She had done this to him. Celebrian felt her throat contract as if to cry but no tears came.

"Elrohir, come we must leave this place." Elladan's voice made a brave attempt at being bracing, but faltered slightly at the end. He was worried for his brother who had already been on his horse when they had emerged from the shadowed entrance. Elrohir had always been fond of horses and was caressing his mount's neck, but unusually he was silent and his face had remained buried in the coarse grey hair for some time.

Slowly Elrohir raised his head and looked sadly at Elladan. His face was deathly pale beneath the sweat and grime and silent tears still streamed down his cheeks although his face held no expression, distressed or otherwise.

"We will ride through the night. We shall stop at the banks of the river to do what healing we can." Elladan ordered, surprised that his brother did not argue. Strangely neither felt tired or hungry despite not having slept and having consumed little more than waybread and water in the last week. Elladan felt apprehension that their healing skills would not be enough to cure their mother of even the physical wounds that she had obtained. He should have thought to take a medical pack, they were not even properly equipped. But they had not thought of that.

It had been a day as any other, the sun setting over the valley, lighting up the reds and yellows of the autumn leaves. They had both finished dressing for dinner, and were strolling along the balconies on a rather long diversion before meeting their father and his advisors. They had felt no guilt at keeping them waiting for as all the young male elves in Imladris knew a group of the youngest female elves were fond of gathering in one of the sunken groves to talk on these evenings. And walking along the west balcony provided the perfect excuse to accidentally notice them. But then just as they had reached their target a weary looking guard had come racing up the steps.

On a whim Elladan had decided to ask whether he could be of assistance, knowing that his father was fully occupied at the time. The message had been jumbled and full of gasps but the twins had only had to hear the words "Celebrian", "captured" and "Redhorn Pass" before they were both flying down the corridors to their rooms. They had barely taken time to fling on their hunting clothes and armour, grab their weapons and fill a water pouch before running to the stables and thundering out of Imladris.

By the time their father even got to hear of the news his sons were long gone, streaking into the night.

But it was a long ride and although they had pushed themselves and their horses to the limit, Elladan somehow doubted that they had arrived in time. Pushing unpleasant thoughts out of his mind with some difficulty, he settled his mother into a secure position and set off after his brother. She was alive, and at the moment that was the best that they could hope for.

The two horses swept over the plain to the river, running in smooth synchrony, the dark hair of their riders streaming out behind them. As they approached the ford they reined in their horses, coming to a stop as if their thoughts and intentions were in unison. Together they leapt off their horses in swift and elegant motion.

Elladan reached out a gloved hand to steady his mother on the tired horse. She needed medical attention and fast. Elrohir did not know it yet, but her breathing was becoming shallow and her pulse was weakening. He also knew that he could not go on much longer without aid. For the past few hours he had felt warm blood trickle in a stream down his chest, and although it was not visible under his armour he knew it was there. He knew what he had to do, but not whether he had the strength to do it.

He wished now that they had not been so foolish, so rash. They should have thought of herbs and blankets. It was obvious that they would need bandages. For a split second Elladan felt like falling to the floor and crying like a child. Why could Elrond or Glorfindel not be there? Someone who would take responsibility and relieve him of this terrible burden.

"Elladan!" From Elrohir's raised tone it was obvious that this had not been the first time he had called. The older twin shook his head slightly and looked up from the ground.

"I shall light a fire. We must warm some water." Elrohir frowned as he spoke. The water should be boiled with carefully selected herbs and roots, but they had no medicines and the water pouches would take little more than gentle warming.

Elladan nodded absentmindedly, eyeing a wider area of the river where the flow was less strong. It would be good to wash, to allow the fresh mountain water to sweep away the sweat, blood and grime. And since hot water was likely to be at a premium it might be wise to attempt a preliminary cleaning of the wounds before dressing them.

"I. . . we shall wash." Elladan reached up to lift his mother down from the horse and patted its dark flank, allowing it to rest. Elrohir nodded his acquiescence; eyes on the ground as he searched through the lush grass for any suitable plants.

She had not expected this pain. The ache had been growing with every second of freedom. The dull throb had been tolerable, but the sudden shards of pain that now shot down through her body at intervals left her gasping for breath. She did not remember much pain during her capture but now every scratch and bruise was crying out for attention.

Elladan had his back to her, long fingers fumbling behind his back to untie his armour. She should offer to help but she doubted that she could even control her thumbs. Finally he succeeded, the clang of metal on the shingle causing her to wince slightly. His movements were slightly awkward, almost embarrassed to be undressing in front of her. She would have smiled at that, had she been able to smile. It did not seem so very long since the tiny boys had had to be watched during their bath lest they should decide to escape during the corridor and intrude on their father's council.

Something was not right. He seemed determined to face away from her, giving his brother guilty looks, ensuring that he was not watching. Finally when dressed only in leggings and undershirt he waded into the river and sat on a stone, allowing the water to flow around him. Only then did he remove his shirt, dipping it into the water and using it to wipe himself clean. Celebrian was not tricked; the crimson stains on the fabric had been visible even after several dips in the water. Faintly she began to feel alarm, the fear creeping in through her misty consciousness. If Elladan was hiding it from his brother it meant that he was hurt too badly to ride. Or at least thought that he was. They should never have come. Where were the others? Could not more soldiers have been spared?

"Ammë." The voice was still cold, but undeniably that of Elladan. Rather reluctantly Celebrian focused on the figure kneeling by her side, shifting her attention to his bare chest. It was not as bad as she had feared. The wound below his shoulder was deep but the blood was beginning to gel, beginning to heal. His mail had shielded him from most other injuries but when the bruises came up she doubted that he would be comfortable for days.

"Would you. . .I need to. . ." His cheeks flushed and eyes looked to the ground, suddenly appearing quite dark and troubled. Finally he took a deep breath and spoke in a voice devoid of feeling. "Your wounds need to be washed."

Unable to either assist or agree Celebrian sat mutely as he set about his task with surprising gentleness. She could feel his unhappiness and awkwardness while he worked, removing all traces of the blood and filth that covered her body. The grey eyes were kept lowered, not even meeting her own as he gently wiped her face, removing grit and dirt from the grazes. She longed to tell him that she understood. That he was not shaming her in anyway. Elladan would never be a healer at heart. Insisting of doing everything for himself even when physically impossible to do so, he found it as hard to give personal help as it was for him to accept it. She did not think that this would change now. Not until he had a child of his own to love and care for. The sudden wave of emotion hurt so much that she could scarcely breathe. She wanted to be there to see her sons grow up, there when they first brought home a bride. She wanted to know her grandchildren. And there was no reason to take this from her. But they had tried.

Something warm trickled an unsteady path down her cheek. She did not recognise it as her own tear until Elladan reached out, wiping it away with a single finger. He paused and looked at her, halfway through helping her into his own tunic. There was something going through his mind, but what she did not know.

"I love you Ammë." The words were whispered as he kissed her on the forehead. For that he had surprised her. Elladan rarely showed affection. Rarely needed affection. How could he touch her after what happened? He may have washed away the signs as well as he could but he knew. And she knew. She would always know.

The water was warming now although the search for herbs had been futile. Elrohir let his fingers linger too close to the flames, hoping that this would ease the coldness that had gripped his body. His cheeks were still wet from tears and the breeze made the damp streaks feel cold against his skin.

There had been so many orcs. They had worked together in silence, slaying them in co-ordinated motion in a manner that he could barely remember. It hadn't hurt at the time but now every abused muscle was shrieking its objection. And there was yet a long road ahead. Seven days and seven nights. Hope faded with each day without help and there was no light on the horizon.

Then they had come upon a fork in the passageway and with little time for thought his brother had pushed him in one direction and taken the other himself. Looking back on it he suspected that Elladan had known what road he had taken. The caverns he had cleared had smelt distinctly better than that from which Elladan had rescued their mother.

"Is the water warm?" Elladan reached out for a water pouch. Elrohir barely paid him any attention beyond a glance at the torn flesh on his chest as he eagerly moved over to sit by their mother.

She had not seen what she had looked like earlier, but if this was the best Elladan could do to clean up he was glad that he had not. Her cheeks were pale and hollow and eyes deeply shadowed. Every bone was visible, jutting out painfully from the white skin, highlighted with angry red sores and scratches, or the blue-purple of bruises. The blonde curls, so pale as to appear almost silvery, hung back in damp tangled clumps from her face.

"Oh Ammë." He wrapped her into a gentle hug, holding her while tears ran down his face, splashing onto her bare arms. He was not sure how long he held her, not stirring until Elladan interrupted them, his wound now bound tightly.

"Elrohir." The voice was broken, the pain echoing in every syllable. A firm hand found his shoulder and squeezed. The younger twin looked up at the face so like his own, the jaw set in an expression of defiance but the eyes soft with concern.

"What?" His voice seemed to be filled with an anger that did not belong to him. An unfamiliar jealously, wanting to keep his mother all to himself for whatever time they might have left. The hand recoiled as if stung.

"The wounds must be dressed. Here." The concern was now overwhelmed with hurt. He almost wished that his brother would become angry or excited. That they could fight. With an effort Elrohir shook his head and spoke calmly.

"I am sorry. I am tired." He accepted the water and set about dampening strips of fabric torn from Elladan's undershirt as makeshift bandages.

"Elrohir." Elladan's tone was indecipherable but held some sort of warning that filled his brother with dread. The older twin gently drew back the tunic revealing a long deep wound in his mother's side, the ragged edges a furious red colour.

Elrohir's grey eyes reluctantly moved up to meet the mirror of his own. Something was breaking inside of him and he no longer felt as if he could go on. Both knew what the wound was, and both knew that this was beyond them.

Elladan sighed deeply, glancing behind him to check on the progress of his brother and mother. For Elrohir had insisted on carrying the all too light burden himself, and Elladan had no longer had the spirit to argue. A deep dread seemed to fill his body, making it difficult to even think sensibly. Now he did not only have to fear losing a mother, he risked losing a brother too.

With the wounds bound and their mother falling into an uneasy world halfway into unconsciousness, they had worked together, attempting to use what healing power they had in the ultimately futile struggle against the poison. They had placed their hands on her chest, identical fingers entangled. And he had given her all he could, passing what strength he could spare to her. And when he had had no more to give, he had broken the grip his heart full of regret.

But Elrohir had continued, his face shadowed in concentration. He had wondered that his brother had still had strength to give, that he would still hold that much more power than he did. Some colour had returned to the pale cheeks and the tender body had relaxed slightly and a little hope had returned to his heart. But then he had looked at his brother, and really seen him, the colour leaving his face and the light fading in his eyes. All his life passing away.

"Elrohir!" His voice had been harsh and the heel of his hand had crashed into the other's chest, knocking him off balance and releasing the grip. "You must not."

And his brother had looked at him, the grey eyes dulled with despair, the mouth twisting into a sad smile.

"Can you not see brother? It does not matter anymore."

Elrohir had broken. He could hear it in his voice, watch it in his movements and feel it in his mind. And Elladan knew that their bond was such that wherever Elrohir went he would follow.

The rain began during the next night, whipped by the wind into icy sheets crashing into their bodies. Without his cloak his clothes were soon soaked through, the cold providing a welcome numbness from his pain. Soon the ground became muddy underfoot, the horses slipping and stumbling in the dirt and water.

"Elladan, we must halt!" Elrohir called over the noise of the storm, breaking the silence that had fallen on the party since the previous evening.

"We cannot!" Elladan called angrily, his brow furrowed with concentration as he guided his horse along the best path. It was a difficult road in the best of weather, and now with the horses splashing through water it was dangerous.

"We cannot carry on like this." The shout was almost lost in the winds that drove across the mountainside.

"We must." In speaking he lost his concentration and the horse slipped, sending it's rider tumbling into the quagmire. The mud soaked through his clothes, removing all last remnants of warmth from his body.

"Elladan!" Elrohir drew his horse to a sudden halt, just in time to avoid hitting his brother, and dismounted. They had been going fast and although the ground was soft he could still have obtained an injury.

"I am fine." His voice was slightly slurred, the grey eyes focussing with some difficulty, but at least he could stand.

"We are stopping." Elrohir spoke with unusual firmness as he led the horses into shelter under a tree, leaving his brother to limp after him his clothes heavy with caked on mud. Suddenly exhausted Elladan collapsed under the tree to regain his breath, the rough oak bark causing his bruised back to protest. It was true that they could not continue as they had done tonight. And the horses needed rest.

The blanket of fallen leaves was soft beneath their feet and he was content to sit a while, his head slowly clearing from confusion, as he watched his brother spread out cloaks as blankets and settle their mother into a comfortable position. Yes it would be good to sit a while, although he doubted if he would sleep.

Struggling to his feet he wandered out of the shelter of the canopy of leaves and into the pouring rain, hoping to wash off some of the mud that covered his clothes and hair. The gale was blowing harshly and he spread out his arms, embracing the storm, the coldness of the rain and strength of wind refreshing his mind. It was a star-less night, and there was no sight of the moon behind the clouds.

His brother was lying down on the cloak, his body close to his mother's, providing shared comfort. And then it came to him. Elrohir had not come here to rest or even sleep. He was at their side in an instant.

"We ride tonight. We will slow our pace but we do not stop." His voice panicking he ripped the cloak that covered their bodies away and bundled his mother into it, helping her onto the horse.

"No." Elrohir's voice was soft. Sleepy. But there was no sleep to be had on such a cold and wet night.

"Come." Elladan kicked his brother hard in the ribs and dragged him to his feet. "We do not give up hope."

They road on through the night and the next day, their pace slow but steady. In the back of his mind Elladan could feel his brother's pain, and he knew that the increasing limpness of their mother signified her slow passing from this world. But somehow his agony was easier to bear now.

Something had happened. He had always found it easier to lead others when being stern and firm. But now that was all he was. The heartlessness was all that was left. His body felt like a cold empty shell from which emotion had long departed. But he needed to get home. They needed to get home. And if he listened to his heart they would not have got this far.

Dusk fell, another night without stars, without light. He could remember a night many years before, when their heads still bobbed around below their father's waist.

They had walked all day, scrambling up the rocky slopes of the mountains, sometimes skipping from stone to stone and sometimes being carried. And then as dusk was falling they had reached the peak of the mountain and sat on a cairn and watched as the darkness spread across the land and stars were sprinkled across the sky. Their mother and father had wandered off together and Glorfindel had kept them with him when they wanted to chase off after them. He could remember an arm being placed around each of their shoulders, drawing them into warmth and safety. And then he could remember him speaking, answering some childish comment, the melodic tones with the accent of some long forgotten city.

"The stars are always there. Even when you cannot see them. They never go out."

But there were no stars left now. He had lied. Scowling at the betrayal Elladan called out needlessly over his shoulder.

"We ride on."

It was so cold. His frozen fingers wrapped round the reins only with difficulty. There was no light, and the riders could do little but trust that the horses knew the way home. Morosely he stared east, in a hopeless wish that he would see the golden glow of the lights of Imladris nestled in the far off hills.

His eyes suddenly wide Elladan took another look. In the gloom of the far hills where there should be no settlement or civilisation there was a small light. A gentle orb of white light, slowly coming closer.

Had he still owned a heart he may have wept for relief, but instead he turned and spoke gladly.

"There is a light Elrohir. There is a star."

They thundered on across the plains, and as dawn broke the following morning the white glow was still visible in the blue-grey gloom. By now they were so close that riders were visible, hurrying towards them dressed in the mithril mail of Imladris.

Finally they drew close enough to make out individual faces on the riders and soon the two parties came to a halt, mingling into one.

The lead rider dismounted and hurried over, a pale jewel gleaming in the circlet that lay on his blond hair. Seeing the bundle on the nearer horse he strode over, eyes scanning the exhausted faces of the riders for any news.

"She lives." The commanding voice drew some of the best healers in Imladris out of the group.

He gently took the burden into his own arms, drawing back the hood to reveal the pale face. Turning slightly to keep the words he spoke between only himself and the recipient, he touched the bruised cheek, allowing much of what he had to flow into her body.

"I am sorry Celebrian. I am sorry they had to see this."

His face was lined with grief as he handed the fragile body over to one of the waiting healers. Elladan dismounted with urgent haste, trying to follow the party.

"She. . . the wound. . ." He motioned at his side, desperately trying to get them to pay attention. They were not listening. Why would they not understand?

"Hush Elladan. She is in safe hands now." Glorfindel moved over in two swift steps and caught him as he tried to struggle after them. The younger elf tried to push past him for a few moments but then relaxed, allowing himself to be held in the strong arms. "You are safe."

"Glor. . ." The coldness that gripped his body was melting away and his heart was beginning to speak. He wanted someone to hold him and tell him that everything would be all right. He wanted someone to take the burden of responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders. He needed to share the terrible knowledge that he held.

"Peace child." Glorfindel gently drew him into a cuddle, stroking back the muddy hair to look into the familiar face. He had suffered during this journey, more than could yet be understood.

Suddenly Elladan felt an urge to bury his face in Glorfindel's chest as he had done so many times in his childhood and allow his sorrows to flow out freely. Hot tears began to sting in his eyes and he felt his chin begin to crease into tears. Carefully he bent down to rest his forehead on Glorfindel's shoulder, hiding his face from the watching crowd. He could not cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

Glorfindel moved slightly to shield Elladan from curious eyes and glanced at one of his officers, asking for privacy.

"It is alright. I am here." Glorfindel allowed one hand to rest on the dark head, patting it gently.

Elladan felt a sudden itchy warmth in his eyes as tears began to form. Emotions were flooding back into his body. He needed to tell someone what he had seen although the words felt dirty and painful to his tongue.

Taking a deep breath he looked upwards only to see the blond elf looking anxiously at his brother. His brother for how much longer? They had not grown up together for this to happen. They were supposed be partners, side by side for an eternity. It was the gift that had been given to them. And this was to be taken away too?

"Elrohir," Elladan's voice broke and he found himself almost unable to say the words. "Elrohir. . . he . . . he did not wish to continue."

Glorfindel continued to stroke his hair, but Elladan could feel the tension that his words had created in the blond elf's body.

"You should. . . I am afraid." With an effort Elladan pulled back from Glorfindel. "Go."

The blue eyes lingered on his face for a moment and a firm hand found his for a squeeze. Then the elf-lord turned in a shapeless billow of white cloak.

Swallowing to try and regain control of his feelings he watched as Glorfindel strode over and embraced his brother, holding him as he sobbed loudly, his clear anguish making the others shift uncomfortably.

He could not help but admire his brother for the courage to allow himself to cry so freely. To not care who was watching. But above all he felt the guilt and envy. Envy that Elrohir should have someone to hold him while he cried and guilt for coveting his brother this small comfort.

Glorfindel strode back though the makeshift camp of resting riders. His entire chest seemed to feel cold, shivers crawling across his back. He had never thought that this could happen. She was so gentle, so innocent. And she had brought so much joy to his friend's life.

He was glad now that he had managed to persuade Elrond against coming. His examination of the wounds would be delayed until they could be cleaned, and a little healing had taken place.

Although it would have been reassuring to have him here now - to know that all that could be done was being done. He had never seen any other suffer pain of this magnitude before. He knew that Elrond was Celebrian's only hope, having seen the terrible wound she had received - and deep down he doubted whether his friend would have this strength.

He did not know whether he had the strength. The laughing figure that had pulled him into a dance under the trees had gone. In her place was a shadow - a fragment. The years that previously seemed to have danced past Celebrian had now come to rest heavily on her broken body. Surely death would have been kinder than this.

Unknowingly digging his fingernails into his palms, Glorfindel stepped over a discarded bow to reach the twins. He had meant to scold the boys as he had done so many times before. They should have known the effect that their disappearance would have on their father.

They had just been sitting down at the table when the messenger had finally caught up with them. He had been able to feel his friend's irritation at the absence of his sons. It was not as if they, and most of the older elves in Imladris, did not know where they were. Indeed he had had great fun teasing two identically flushed elves about the delightful view from that particular terrace on many occasions. However Elrond had not normally looked upon lateness with a benevolent eye, and judging by the way that his eyes had flashed beneath lowered brows this would not be an exception.

Together they had listened to the news, together with Erestor flanking the Lord's left and right sides. He had not really listened to the exact words that the unfortunate messenger had chosen to relay the information, instead watching the impassive face of his friend. Elrond had taken the news with impressive calm, indeed he would have been surprised at his friend's self- control had he not seen the long fingers gripping the back of a chair so tightly that every joint had paled under the pressure.

Eventually the Lord of Imladris had stirred, his grey eyes suddenly dark, and turned to face him.

"I must tell my children." His face had clearly reflected exactly what he was thinking. How would he break this news to his twins and daughter? No amount of carefully chosen words would soften this blow.

"You must." He had managed to keep calm for Elrond's sake. For their sake. For he loved the family of the Lord of Imladris as dearly as he had loved his own. With a troubled expression the half-elf had nodded and turned, only to look back imploringly.

"Will you come?" The voice had held none of its usual force, instead echoing the tentativeness of an elfling asking for an unlikely favour. But he had agreed - although he would have given much to avoid the moment - for Elrond had clearly needed him there.

They had escorted Arwen in silence from the dinner table, trying to pay no need to the din of anxious whispers that accompanied their departure. And then, leaving Arwen picking at embroidery in the sitting room under Erestor's supervision, they had searched for the twins. But there had been no sign of the boys, and by the end the absence of the two fine horses from the stables had been a confirmation rather than a shock.

Elrond had stood in one empty stall in silence for a time. And he had been happy to wait for his friend, because he had no wish to voice the thoughts that were running through his head.

"They have ridden after them." Elrond spoke in the disbelieving manner with which he usually dispelled senseless ideas in council. "The two of them alone."

"They cannot have gone far. Let me ride after them." He had wanted to leave that moment. To place himself between the little elflings he had come to love so dearly and the unknown horrors that awaited them.

"I will go." That had been an Elrond he had not seen in a while. The bitterness and determination of the hardened warrior that had seen it all.

"No." He had spoken quickly on a flash of intuition. Elrond should not be there if the worst happened. He could not see that grief through his friend's eyes as well as his own. "You must stay with Arwen."

He had watched his friend hesitate, alternating between the need to comfort his precious Evenstar and the thought of the remainder of his family in pain and danger.

"You cannot leave her Elrond." He had spoken with confidence, hoping that Elrond wouldn't guess at his ulterior motive. But then Elrond knew as well as he what pleasure the orcs would gain in torturing his wife. Taking advantage of the moments hesitation he had begun issuing orders to gather a rescue party to ride immediately. It was not a decision that Elrond should have to make.

And before leaving them, Arwen a crumpled bundle in her father's arms, he had embraced his friend as well as he could and promised to bring the family home safely. But neither had faith in the mercy of the orcs.

He had meant to tell the twins of this - to let them know what grief their actions had brought to their father. But watching them resting on the grass, every muscle weak in defeat, he was unable to find the words to use against them. For now he was just grateful that they still lived.

Elladan sank down on the meadow grass by his brother's side. He was so tired. When had he last rested? He could no longer remember. But he could not rest now. The world in which he would wake up would be a cold and alien place over which he could have no control. A world in which he would be alone. But if he could just stay awake then maybe he could beg him to stay, to linger just a little longer.

"Your mother is in safe hands now." Glorfindel sat down between them, speaking in the artificially bright voice that meant that he was in too much pain to cope if he acknowledged it's existence. "Are you hungry?"

He was when he thought about it. His entire body felt like it was starved. He tried to nod but it came out as more of a slump of the head. Someone put an arm around him and let him rest his throbbing head on their shoulder.

"You are tired Elladan." The same artificially bright tones, the melody gone from the familiar voice.

He was. He could hardly keep his eyes open.

"Aye." It was more of a mumble than a reply.

"Do you have need of dry clothing?"

Why was he looking at someone's boots? He should lift his head, but he could not.

"We have dried." Elrohir's voice came hazily.

His brother may have but he had not. How could his own twin, his mirror image, be so much warmer than he? But he was not cold, the wetness of his clothes against his skin being comfortingly warm.

"Elladan?" It was a question. He should respond. But he was so very tired. Someone was patting down his arms, testing the fabric. "Aye, you are warm enough."

How could he be warm enough? He was soaked through. He could feel his undershirt clinging in a sticky film to his body. He would have protested but he was so tired.

He could hardly breathe.

He could not breathe.

Maybe it was best for them to sleep. Their sorrow was still to keen for any healing or counselling. And to have returned so soon they must have had little rest.

But this. . . was this sleep? The steady rhythm of breaths had slowed and faltered. They resumed in a struggling rasp before faltering again - and this time remaining silent.

Glorfindel lowered Elladan to the ground, the panic rising quicker than he would care to admit, and pressed an ear against his chest. The steady orchestra of life had fallen quiet, leaving only the heart to continue in a weak and feeble solo.

What had he done? What foul error of judgement had caused him to leave the child alone? Why had he not demanded that they immediately saw a healer? He knew Elladan - he had always known him. And he should have known that this would happen. It had been in his power to stop this and he had let it pass through his fingers.

No longer knowing whether he still breathed himself, Glorfindel tore off Elladan's clothing and armour, hardly noticing as he ripped his finger open on a sharp edge of metal. That could not all be the child's blood. . . there was too much there.

The sodden shirt was cut off easily enough, followed by bandages that did little more than spread the flow of blood. Stripping off his gloves he pressed down urgently on the wound, blood trickling out from between his fingers. That could not be his voice calling for help. He did not let his desperation show in that manner.

There was a sudden movement at his side. This was not the time for the second son of Elrond to rouse from his dazed state. He should not watch this.

"Elladan. . . Glorfindel he is not breathing!"

As if he did not know.

Glorfindel grabbed at the shaking hands and thrust them down to apply pressure on the wound. Thankfully the flow of blood was now slowing, but he was not sure how much time remained. Praying that Elrohir would be able to maintain his hold, Glorfindel tilted Elladan's head back and bent to breathe for him.

He could taste the salt of dried sweat and the bland earthiness of dirt. And the unique metallic tang of another's blood. The taste of battle - a taste that had remained present for years after Dagorlad.

Raising his head slightly he was relieved to feel the soft stirring of air against his cheek as Elladan managed to take a breath for himself. Sighing with relief Glorfindel sat back, just in time to catch hold of Elladan as he began to choke, bringing up gelatinous masses of dark blood.

This was not the way it should end.

Celebrian was smiling as she slept, expressions of joy and peace playing across her face as her half-lidded eyes danced in elven-dreams. She was relaxed and restful amidst the pillows, arms entwined with those of her husband as they lay sleepily together. Having woken a few minutes beforehand, Elrond stayed still, smiling a little as he watched his wife drift from slumber into the stillness of the morning. The nights were more peaceful now.

"Elrond?" Celebrian blinked her eyes open and smiled rather blearily at him, still slightly confused and disorientated from sleep.

"It is a fine morning." Elrond smiled at his wife and propped himself up on one elbow to lean over and greet her with a kiss. "You had pleasant dreams?"

Celebrian started slightly and looked at her husband suspiciously, her expression quickly changing to one of guilt. She had thought that she had been able to disguise her hopes and dreams, but they had never been able to keep secrets from each other. Sometimes she felt that she knew Elrond better than she knew herself.

"I have dreams. Dreams of happiness." Celebrian admitted, squinting in the early morning sunlight. She rolled over and brushed some tangled silver- blonde curls from her face before turning anxiously to her husband and speaking quietly, "Elrond, I do not think that I am dreaming of these lands."

She fell silent and looked down at the blanket, fingering the crocheted lace trim on the coverlet. She could feel Elrond breathing, chest moving up and down in time as he tried to think of words to say. Although she did not meet his eyes, she could imagine his dark brows drawn a little closer together, and his grey eyes rather troubled and distant.

"You may. . . you should. . ." Elrond faltered and broke off, swallowing hard as he quickly blinked several times. He had been expecting this, waiting for it. But now it had been spoken aloud he seemed left without words to speak. The responses that he had prepared and troubled over suddenly seemed inadequate and weak. He was a healer and had guided others through this journey many a time, but he had not expected to feel as it did now.

"Follow your heart, Celebrian. Choose wisely, but go where your spirit guides you." Elrond resumed rather more strongly although his voice was tight with pain, taking Celebrian's hand in his and squeezing too tightly. "You will always have my blessing."

Celebrian remained silent for a long while, staring at the clean white fabric of the nightshirt spread over her husband's chest. Then almost as if she were not really there ventured, "But what of Arwen and our boys? What of Ammë?"

Her mother would never return to her homeland. She had seen and done things that even Ages of sorrow and regret could not fully heal, and she still had desires that were undiminished throughout the long years. Her father would stay with her mother until the end, that Celebrian did not doubt, but to be alone. . .

"What of us?" Celebrian turned desperately to Elrond, blue eyes begging for a response that she knew that he could not give. "I do not wish to spend an eternity alone."

"I. . . we. . ." Elrond swallowed uncomfortably. His nose seemed to be becoming hot and stuffy and his throat was sore. He had anticipated this, prepared for the sorrow and grief, but now he felt blank and distant, as if he were a mere spectator watching from afar. He brought Celebrian's hand up to his face and pressed his lips to her fingers. "I must linger, but I shall seek you when I may."

He could feel her shaking although she made no sound, hot tears threading down her face to create damp patches on the pure white of the pillows. He wanted to tell her to stay, to have faith that things would become better, that her joy in this world would return, but he could not lie. Strengthening his resolve he added in a gruff voice. "You cannot linger when your spirit would leave, Celebrian. It will not listen to another's bidding for long. Not to me and not to our children. Even your mother does not have this power."

Celebrian fell silent a moment, thinking of Galadriel. If she departed these shores it would be farewell for an eternity, until the ends of the Ages. And although her mother revelled in her own strengths, she did not have the power to make things the way they were, and Celebrian suspected that this would finally do what millennia of wars and loss had not.

"The twins - they have made sacrifices, parted with things that they could ill afford to give. I cannot throw that away, Elrond." Celebrian stroked a half-curled finger along his cheekbone, hoping to offer some comfort through her tears. He needed her here, and she feared that if he lost another that he loved, he would close his heart and no longer allow himself to love and trust. But it was the twins that she worried for most. She had seen them sinking into darkness and despair, clinging desperately to the hope that it all had been worthwhile. "It. . . I fear I am all they have left to hold onto."

"Do not stay on their. . . not on our behalf." Elrond forced the words from his lips, hastily correcting himself lest Celebrian guess of his thoughts. It was a terrible thing to be jealous of one's own sons, but the thought that his wife considered them before him seemed to be festering inside him. "This gift is not theirs to take away."

Celebrian took a deep gulping breath, her body shaking with silent sobs. "But I have taken something that I should never have asked of them. It is not mine to give away."

~*~

The pass was almost impassable at this time in winter, gusts of winds blowing harshly down from Caradhras and piling the snow in great drifts. The snow was deep, even for the elves that had beaten the difficult path through the narrow cleft, and the even the horses were finding the going difficult. The travellers had stopped awhile, huddling around a small fire and sharing a flask of miruvor. All were wary, never forgetting what had passed on this narrow road just months before, and though they spoke quietly, they dared not call out or sing. Finally, as the last of the embers lost their glow and the wind seized on the ash and scattered it over the snow, they rose and prepared to depart.

"Galadriel?" Celeborn pivoted on one foot, looking around over the hooded heads of the elves of Lorien for any sign of his wife. She had been at his side just a minute ago, but he could catch no glimpse of the golden curls blowing out from under a hood of silver-grey. "Galadriel!"

Eyes darkening with anxiety, Celeborn sprang up onto a high boulder and looked around him, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. The snow stretched out pure and unsullied on either side of him, even the path that they had carved earlier being buried under the blown snow, and thankfully there was no sign of a disturbance.

"Galadriel!" The Lord of Lorien bellowed, his voice ringing desperately over the smooth snow, echoing off the sheer icy walls of the cliff. Below him he could hear the anxious mutterings of his guards, but for the moment the feelings of his people were not his first priority. He could not face this again, not so soon. Hand slipping to the hilt of his sword, fist closing around the cold metal of the ancient weapon, Celeborn surveyed the expanse of snow one last time, praying for something. . . anything.

"Galadriel!" Sighing deeply in relief, Celeborn leapt up onto the steep bank and ran lightly over the surface of the snow until he could gain a closer look at the thin figure that he had just seen passing down a steep incline.

His wife was standing at the bottom of a hollow, facing the sheer wall of rock at the side of the pass. Her shoulders were squared and she was swinging her sword - a long curved mithril blade - with both hands, once again becoming accustomed to the weight and feel of the weapon. She had cast her hood aside, and her golden hair was being whipped by the wind, mingling with the fine white flakes of snow.

"Meleth-nîn." Celeborn leapt sure-footed from boulder to boulder until he was standing next to his wife and firmly removed the blade from her grasp before enveloping her in the warmth of his arms. "There is nothing that you can do."

~*~

"I had travelled that pass but months before." Erestor muttered quietly, not looking up from the map that was spread over the desk before him. Oblivious of the sudden stiffening of the other occupant of the room, he ran a finger back and forwards along the parchment, tracing a well-known path. "It was so peaceful, so beautiful."

It was early in the morning, and the study was yet quiet and empty save for two slender figures bent over their papers. Both were struggling to finish the preparations for a festival that neither wished to celebrate, for there seemed to be little light promised for the days ahead.

"There were flowers there, clouds of white flowers." Erestor spoke quietly and hoarsely. His lips were beginning to wobble against his bidding and the words and symbols of the map seemed to dance before his eyes. "I heard birds singing."

Glorfindel did not speak, and bent down to look more closely at the parchment he had been reading. Large quantities of fine golden hair fell like a curtain across his face, hiding what thoughts he may have from his companion. The hollow silence in the room was unbearable, the hurt and the pain of both elves weighing heavily on their shoulders.

"She was so kind and gentle. She is too small to wield a sword." Glorfindel was on his feet now, striding to the window with his back painfully stiff. Erestor knew that he should quieten, but the words would not cease their flow, now coming out more as a low mournful wail. "This was not her battle. She did not deserve this."

Glorfindel leant heavily on the window ledge, each breath coming in an unsteady gasp as he tried to control the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to focus on a thin spider's web lit silver by the dewdrops as it struggled against the wind, but it was a weak effort against the power of what he had seen. His mouth felt dry, and what saliva there was had the bitter metallic taste of stale blood.

"It is not right. . ." Erestor swallowed, uncharacteristic anger colouring his words. "If only I could. . . I wish. . ."

"Erestor," a firm hand gripped the younger elf's shoulder and squeezed, the great fatigue and sadness in the normally merry voice suddenly reminding the young counsellor of how very ancient his companion really was, "I understand, my friend. I know."

~*~

"I shall fetch some snowdrops," Celebrian's chewed on her lip as she looked around the prepared guestroom. She had always had an eye for detail and she wanted to make sure that her parents had everything they needed. It would be a long and hard journey from Lorien this late in the year. "Ammë is fond of them, and perhaps some extra blankets. . ."

"I shall check the towels." Arwen lifted a corner of the sheets and shook them out, sending a billow of air to the other side of the bed. Frowning a little in concentration she surveyed the bed and tugged at a corner of the blankets, straightening the chain of embroidered flowers on the coverlet. "Will you need help in the garden?"

"I will manage, my Arwen." Celebrian's face lit up with laughter as she turned to her daughter. All three children had taken their father's lead in sheltering and protecting her, and as a result she was finding it difficult to get even a minute to herself. "They are but a few yards from the steps, little one."

"The steps are icy, Ammë. Be careful." Arwen's eyes widened earnestly. "Are you sure. . ."

"Arwen." Celebrian rolled her eyes as she began laughing, and after a moment Arwen joined her in mirth. "You may always watch me from the window."

Still smiling, Arwen set the pitcher back down on the dresser and embraced her mother closely. Holding her closely, she smiled a little sadly and added tentatively. "I do not want anything to happen to you."

Blinking quickly, Celebrian touched her lips to her daughter's forehead. While Arwen had not spoken of such things, she could well guess what fears shadowed the young face. "Nothing shall happen to me, Arwen. There is still too much that I wish to see."

Arwen looked anxiously at her mother, wanting to believe but her eyes betraying her doubt.

"You have so much to look forward to, my child." Celebrian smiled brightly, thinking of the joys that still lay ahead of her daughter. "Someday you shall meet one who with whom you wish to spend all the Ages of this world, and then you shall find that he feels the same for you. You shall bind yourselves to each other, and then may you be blessed with children of your own."

Mother and daughter exchanged smiles, and Celebrian added softly, "I wish to be there with you, Arwen."

Arwen smiled softly at her mother, only a slight barely perceptible darkness in her eyes remaining. "You shall, Ammë."

Celebrian held her daughter once more, then turned to the door, eager to have the room perfect before dinner. Arwen stood still and silent for a few seconds, wondering. There had been a question that had been lingering unanswered for many long weeks, and although she tried to ignore it, it seemed to grow larger with each passing day.

"Ammë," Arwen said slowly, her serious tone prompting her mother to turn around and look at her, "When you first came home, why would then not let me see you?"

"My Arwen," Celebrian walked slowly to her daughter's side and gently brushed her fingers along one of the stray dark curls that tumbled down across her forehead, "It is not for you to know."

~*~

It was quiet in the chambers of the chambers of the family of Imladris. Elrond had departed to spend a few hours with his papers, much to Glorfindel's disapproval. Arwen was in the kitchens, overseeing the preparations for the Midwinter Feast. She had not expected to know what to do, but it seemed to be natural, a lesson taught by years of watching her mother. Both Elrohir and Celebrian lay silently on their beds, one slumbering peacefully and the other staring blankly at the wall. Out in the too tidy hallway a single sword stood propped against the wall, the only break in the lifeless monotony of what should have been a busy family room.

Celebrian woke suddenly, blinking sleepily as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Although she felt that she no longer needed to rest during the day, Elrond was apt to insist that she went to lie down for a number of hours in the afternoon if she wished him to accompany her to the singing in the Hall of Fire in the evening. Someone had opened the window above the blanket chest, and the cold breeze had woken her earlier than she had become accustomed to. The sun was still quite high in the sky, and she could not have been sleeping for longer than an hour at most. Shivering a little, Celebrian pulled her shawl around her shoulders and padded softly over to the window, drawing it shut. She had never felt any but the most biting cold before, but since it had happened little things like drafts and frosts had begun to bother her.

"Ammë, I am sorry! Did I wake you?" There was a light padding noise as Elladan dropped down off the window ledge, and he hurried over to his mother's side, providing her with unneeded assistance as he pulled the window shut with a bang. "I wished only for some air. I thought not. . ."

"I am well, Elladan." Celebrian narrowly avoided laughing at her son's concern as the elder twin roughly tried to settle the shawl closer around her. While the child's heart was in the right place, his hands were hardened and callused from long hours spent with the sword, and he had little idea of when snug became tight. "I am quite comfortable, my child."

Smiling reassuringly, Celebrian stepped back a few steps to survey her son, automatically reaching out to finger a loose and fraying button on the collar of Elladan's shirt. She had not known that her eldest son still sat with her as she slept, but surprised though she was, the thought was comforting. "You grow thin."

"I am well." Elladan said stiffly, not quite meeting his mother's eyes. "I train hard. It is my duty."

Celebrian looked at him in silence a moment, her own misgivings rising rapidly. It had always been important to Elladan to live up to expectations and fulfil his duties. To be a good captain, a good heir - a good son. Sometimes she wondered whether he acted for himself or for the sake of the person he felt that he needed to be. The person that he felt that those he loved wanted him to be. Sighing inwardly, but wisely keeping her sorrow to herself, Celebrian touched her fingers to the soft cloth of his shirt and spoke quietly, "Do your duty, Elladan, but do not forget that which you owe yourself."

Elladan shifted uncomfortably, looking as if he would gladly flee but for the steadying touch on his arm. Eventually he sighed deeply and spoke reluctantly. "Everything is different now."

Clenching his fists, he scowled at the floor, thinking furiously. He did not doubt that his mother would be distressed to hear of his recent activities, but she did not understand, not truly. She had always been someone that he could talk to when his own desires conflicted with those required of an elf of his standing, but this was different. Nothing else seemed to matter any more. The things that had worried him in years gone past now seemed small and insignificant, and he was almost ashamed to have let them bother him.

"I did not expect this of you. I would not have asked for it." Celebrian bit her lower lip slightly and reached upwards to gently brush a few strands of dark hair behind her son's ear. "You will always be my son, and I will always love you, no matter what choices you make."

"I did not do what I did because I am your son," Elladan frowned deeply and looked at his mother, eyes dark with badly disguised hurt. "I did it because you are my Ammë."

Elladan glared at himself in the mirror, dark eyes meeting their reflection in an equally uncompromising gaze. It was another perfect day for the Midwinter Festival - there had been a storm overnight, but now it was calm and the valley was covered in a blanket of fresh white snow. The frozen trees were glinting silver in the sunlight. He had risen at dawn to welcome the new day out on the mountaintop, and all had been quiet and pure and peaceful.

He knew that he need not have climbed for those hours to find silence. It was just as quiet here in his chambers as it had been out on the windswept cliffs. Last year there had been singing and laughter as they had struggled to get ready in time. Today he could not even hear his twin moving in the neighbouring room. He would have asked his brother to join him, but he was afraid of that he might do if he was refused.

Frowning, Elladan tied the last braid painfully tightly and turned to the garments that he had set ready. He should find a woollen shirt if he was to spend the afternoon out in the forest. The winter felt colder this year.

He moved his hand across his chest, grimacing as it revealed a faint purple mark where there had once been a deep and jagged tear. The wound had healed well. The scarring had faded now, leaving just a darker shadow close to his heart. The healers said that it would disappear in time.

"Elladan." There was a sharp knocking on the half-open door and his father's voice called out his name.

"Come in," he sounded rather more eager for the interruption than he would have liked to appear. His loneliness and sorrow were as private as his pain, and he had little intention of sharing them, even with his father.

"Greetings." Elrond strode into the room and hesitantly reached to embrace his son. He had not been in here for longer than he had remembered. The carved wooden animals that had once wandered across the dresser and window ledges had been crammed untidily into a drawer. A selection of knives and a well-used sharpening stone were resting on the bedcovers.

"Greetings, father." Elladan gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement then, on impulse engulfed his father in a rough hug. "Ammë?"

"She is resting now." Elrond said reassuringly. He had stayed with her until she was sleeping peacefully before seeking out his children. "She was singing in the Hall of Fire."

"Good." Elladan would have grinned at the note of pride in his father's voice had it not seemed inappropriate. His mother had always loved singing the traditional songs of the Midwinter Festival, and it would have hurt to him to think that she had missed a rare chance to laugh and smile.

"Yes." Elrond said stiffly.

Father and son looked at each other for a few moments. Neither had released the other from their embrace.

"She will get better, Ada." Elladan said firmly, his eyes daring his father to disagree. There was a minute of silence before he spoke again, his apparent confidence betrayed by a slight quaver in his voice. "You have healed her."

There was a pause.

"Have you not?"

"I. . ." Elrond's eyes strayed to the thick cloak that was draped over the back of a chair, then turned to his son with an expression of confusion.

"You are going out." Elrond gripped Elladan by both shoulders and looked hard at him. "I had thought that we would talk."

"It is Midwinter's Day, Ada." Elladan said softly, looking at his father. "Remember. . ."

"The Festival. . ." Elrond paused, glancing guiltily towards the doorway. His people needed to see him there. They had little hope left. But his sons perhaps had the more urgent need. Elrohir's spirit was breaking. Elladan had become someone that he did not know.

"I shall go." Elladan grabbed a cloak - a blue one, and fastened the brooch with practised fingers. He seldom wore the grey one now, even though the blood had washed out without stain. "Stay with Elrohir, he needs you."

Elrond paused, looking back at the darkness that shadowed the doorway to Elrohir's chambers and turned to his elder son. It was not only Elrohir that needed him. "Elladan. . ."

"I must hurry, Ada!" Elladan called behind him, his long legs making quick progress down the steps to where his sister was waiting. His voice sounded a little tauter than usual - perhaps attributable to the speed at which he was moving, but to all eyes he appeared unconcerned. Just another young elf- lord hurrying to the duties that he had been assigned. "I am late!"

~*~

The singing and dancing of the Midwinter Festival was long over by the time that anyone dared disturb the peace and privacy of the family's chambers. Alone and unanswered on the terrace, Erestor tentatively pushed the door open. The rooms were dark and cold, candles unlit and the fireplaces empty. His boots were caked with snow from the long trek through the valley, and although there was nobody to greet him or take his cloak, Erestor wiped his feet with excessive care.

It was unnaturally quiet in here, especially for a place he had come to associate with laughter and light. Each door was shut, plunging the corridor into a musty darkness. There were empty vases on the tables.

As he reached the end of the house where Elrond's sons had their chambers he paused by a door that swung slightly open. He had intended to enter and try to bring some cheer to those of the family that remained here, but when he tried to move, something held him back. He had not noticed at first, but through the crack of the door he could see Elrond sitting on the edge of the bed together with his youngest son, a comforting arm wrapped around the child's shoulders. Neither were without tears.

Swallowing hard, Erestor swiftly drew the door shut and hurried away, leaving the silence of the family home as smooth and deep as it had been before his coming.

~*~

"But I should have been there, Ada! I should have been there!" Elrohir gulped in air and smeared some tears across his cheek with the side of his fist. "If we had gone with her. . . if we had left a little sooner, then maybe, maybe. . ."

"Hush. Hush, child." Closing his eyes tightly, as if in pain, Elrond gripped his son's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Do not speak of such things."

Elrohir looked at his father, unconvinced. He had thought long and hard on such questions. He has played with them in his mind until they threatened to consume him. He had seen beams of light and shade circling his ceiling, shadows lengthening and then creeping back, the moon waxing and waning. He still had no answer, but he was close. He must be close.

"But these things have happened, Ada." Elrohir said blankly. "There must be a reason."

Elrond moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, his spirit weary. He was a lore master, and he too found the quest for reason a temptation it was hard to ignore. But one could not think that way forever. Sometimes things just were.

"Sometimes things happen, Elrohir, terrible things. We cannot prevent them." Elrond sighed deeply and lowered his gaze to the ground. "It does not make it our fault."

Elrohir remained silent a little while longer, shadows of grief and sorrow flickering over his face. Although he was almost motionless, Elrond could see his eyes and mouth - seeming to fumble for some appropriate emotion - and for some strange reason he suddenly remembered one day when the twins had yet seen only five summers. They had climbed to the top of some small hill not far from the valley and they had cast themselves down onto the lush green grass. The sky had been dazzlingly blue and wisps of clouds had been blowing lazily across the sky. The boys had lain on the ground for hours watching the sky, and he had watched their faces, their expressions changing as quickly as the shapes of the clouds as they had argued, giggled and teased. Now though, there was little joy in his son's eyes - fear, pain, dark memories. . . and then suddenly the carefully controlled face was shaking, quivering, crumpling.

"Ada." Choking with the intensity of his grief, Elrohir flung himself at his father; heaving great sobs of a sorrow so intense that Elrond's own heart seemed to be breaking. "It is not fair."

There was little left to say.

~*~

"It is Midwinter's Day, Elladan." Glorfindel said kindly, glancing sidelong at the half-elf as he checked the stringing of his bow. "I did not expect you to come."

They were alone on the training field, almost knee deep in the drifts of snow that had blown into the bottom of the valley. Although the captains of the Imladris Guard met at this time each week to train, none were expected to come today. This festival was one of the high points of the year for the elves of Imladris and they would be celebrating far into the night. He had come here to be alone.

"You are here." Elladan said stubbornly. He did not meet his mentor's eyes, instead taking each arrow in turn and fixing it with a fearsome glare before returning it to his quiver.

Glorfindel sighed and cast back the hood of his cloak, allowing golden hair to cascade down his back. "I had little to celebrate."

Elladan grunted a response, concentrating completely on the target and the bow in his hands. He had come here to be alone, foolishly assuming that Glorfindel would be celebrating with his father as he always had done. The coming year promised little hope of light for any of them.

The arrow whistled as it shot through the frosty air.

"Good." Glorfindel nodded curtly as the arrow thunked satisfyingly into the centre of the target. There was so much he needed to say, but curiously he was left without adequate words. "Perhaps you wish to celebrate with your mother. . ."

A second arrow joined the first in the centre of the target, then the half- elf fixed him with a hostile stare.

"No."

"No?" Glorfindel glanced quickly at Elladan and fitted an arrow to his own bow. It had started snowing in earnest again. Fine flakes blew here and there in the breeze, and the greyness of the sky threatened more before nightfall.

"No." Elladan repeated, blinking some cold flakes of snow from his eyes.

Glorfindel released his arrow, wrinkling his nose in disgust as it landed a few inches off target. He had warned Elrond not to speak to his sons too soon. Neither were yet ready to hear what they knew in their hearts.

"You did well this afternoon." Glorfindel spoke lightly. To his surprise Elladan and Arwen had managed the speeches and traditional dances with skill and every semblance of ease. "I am grateful."

Elladan glowered at the snow beneath his feet, fists clenched tight as he tried to control his temper. Another arrow slammed into the target before he turned to face Glorfindel and spoke coldly and deliberately. "Why would you care?"

His dark hair was speckled with snow now and was hanging limply across his face. His face seemed too pale, but his eyes were bright with rage.

"I am one of many that live in this valley." Glorfindel spoke gently. He did not want to fight the boy. Not now. "We are all grateful, Elladan. We know. . ."

"No!" Elladan whorled back to face the row of snow-covered targets and drew back an arrow with a shaking hand. "None of you understand! Not one of you!"

Glorfindel did not attempt to argue, merely letting his bow hang loosely at his side as he watched Elladan's arrow fly into the snowy depths of the forest. He had time enough.

The next arrow went into the forest too. So did the next. The silence over the valley increased, the wind drowning out the sound of distant singing. The falling snow had covered any sign of their coming.

"Ada. . ." Elladan's voice faltered and broke. His whole body was shaking now and he lowered his bow to his side as he struggled to regain self- control. An arrow dropped from his hand, landing deep in the snow. "Ada said that. . ."

He turned his face down towards the snow, damp hair falling like a shadow across his features. His chin was shaking and tears were streaking unbidden down his cheeks. Droplets of warm salty water fell to the frozen ground close to where the red tail feathers of an arrow were just visible above the powdery snow.

Glorfindel was at Elladan's side before the first sob broke the silence.

~*~

The Lord and Lady of Lorien strode down the hallway in silence, each consumed in their own thoughts. Neither had wished to linger for formal greetings and had neatly dodged the surprised counsellor that had tried to welcome them. They had not changed from their journey, and their cloaks and hair were sprinkled with snow. Celeborn's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, gripping it perhaps more tightly than he realised as he approached the doorway of the Hall of Fire.

"She is inside?" As her husband hurried the last few steps towards the open doors, Galadriel slowed her pace, lingering just out of sight of the entrance. She could wait here, out of sight. She would be free to hope for the best, free to believe that the things that she had seen would not be realised.

If she moved just a few steps further she would know. She would be forced to accept whatever had happen. She would either be overwhelmed by relief or face her worst fears.

"Galadriel," Celeborn called softly, extending a hand towards his wife who had halted a few steps behind him, "Come. She is here."

They were all there, the whole family, sitting silhouetted against the glow of the fire. They were exchanging gifts, all smiling as one of the boys lifted up a quilt embroidered with sparkling threads. It had been a long time since he had spent Midwinter with his family.

"Is she. . ." Galadriel faltered slightly as she walked slowly forwards, finally coming to stand at Celeborn's side as her husband wrapped an arm around her waist. "She is not. . ."

She had anticipated this moment. She had prepared herself as much as she could. The Mirror showed many things, some which were, some which had been and others that were yet to come. But powerful though it was, the Mirror did not obey, and she did not know truly what had happened. She could not even guess at what her daughter had suffered.

"There," Celeborn said softly, nodding towards a small group sitting near the fire, "She is there."

He had thought about this meeting. It had seemed so difficult from a distance, imagining the worst, training himself to expect the most grievous sorrows. But here was his daughter, smiling and laughing as she sang. She was gently swinging her husband's arm in time to the music as they sat hand- in-hand. She was not dancing as she should be perhaps, and the notes of her laughter sounded weaker, but suddenly the problem of how he should react did not seem a problem at all. She was his daughter, and he would greet her as he always did - with a hug and a kiss.

"I. . . I. . ." Suddenly overcome by tears, Galadriel turned sharply from the doorway, hiding her face from her husband. She had waited so long for this moment, and she had tried to prepare herself for the worst in any way that she could. But now. . . "I cannot."

"You cannot?" Celeborn's fair brow furrowed, and he turned to make after his wife's running footsteps but before he could move, his daughter had seen him.

"Adar!" Celebrian called joyfully, her voice becoming choked by tears as she ran towards her father, and she buried her face in his shoulder, clinging tightly to his body. "Oh, Adar, you came!"

It was early yet in the morning, but neither the Lord nor the Lady of Imladris slept. They had not risen together, and neither had aimed to seek the other out, but somehow they both found themselves standing quietly together on the frost-silvered balcony, looking out over the pale expanse of the valley. The silence was thick in the still air, and neither one was looking at the other, instead watching the water gush in white and silver streams down the waterfall at the end of the gorge.

"I do not ask you to stay." Elrond said at last, his voice rough and tuneless. "I would not have you stay to fade from pain and despair."

There was a stiff silence, and Celebrian pulled her hand free from her husband's arm with a hint of annoyance. The least that he could do was have faith in her ability to face up to the struggles ahead of her.

"I may not have the strength of my mother, nor a power equal to you, Elrond Peredhil." Celebrian clenched her fists stubbornly, and looked challengingly at her husband. "But I am no coward. I shall not abandon hope merely because I do not know what the future holds. I do not fear pain and despair!"

Elrond did not reply, but placed his warm fingers over the back of his wife's cold hand. She had never been one to stop fighting before she was ready - like her mother but for the fact that she battled for others rather than herself - but she was not speaking as if it were a fact. More as if she were hoping that is she repeated it loudly enough and firmly enough it would be true.

"It requires faith to struggle onwards towards an uncertain future," Elrond paused and stared unseeingly out over the valley, blinded by the cold tears that flowed unbidden from his eyes, "but in the end, you show your courage in accepting that it is time."

Celebrian closed her eyes a moment, turning her face down to the frost and tiny icicles on the smooth wood of the balustrades. Slowly she turned to her husband, gaze lingering on one fraying piece of thong pulled taut around a star-shaped fastener on his boot, before meeting his eyes.

"I shall have my spring, and my summer." Celebrian said resolutely then sighed deeply, tears pooling in her eyes and slipping silently down her face. Hesitantly she turned back to her husband, eyes pleading for understanding and her face shining with relief beneath her tears. "But it is already time."

And far above from the quiet couple, high in the thick canopy that roofed the green hallways of Imladris, a single leaf dropped free and drifted softly and silently through the still air. It fell past halls and council chambers, past the sheer rock walls of the gorge and the through the bare skeletons of the trees at the riverbank, down into the gushing icy waters of the Bruinen. There it was overwhelmed and tossed and turned as it was washed around stones and over rapids, but a splash of blood red amidst the whites and silvers rushing down towards the sea.

THE END