This story is set three years after my first story "Answers and Questions" and reading that story first may help you to understand the relationships between Elladan, Elrohir and Estel in this story.

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T.A. 2951

It was the first day of March and winter fought to keep its hold on the land.  However, the season had been mild this year.  While a thin layer of snow still covered the ground in patches, on this day the sun shone and the slight warmth in the air held the promise of an early spring as an elven patrol traveled through the rocky terrain east of Imladris.

Reports had reached the elven haven that several hill-trolls had recently taken up residence near the western entrance of the High Pass and were plaguing those journeying along the well-traveled route.  The patrol had been dispatched in the hopes of eliminating this threat.  So far, though, they had found no sign of the malevolent creatures as they continued their thorough search of the area.

The scouts remained ever vigilant, their keen senses fully trained on detecting any small sign of the beasts.  This was not a mission that they took lightly.  Even the most skilled and experienced of elven warriors were reluctant to engage in battle with the mighty creatures if it could be avoided.  While trolls were generally quite dim-witted, they were enormous, mighty, ferocious, and single-minded in battle, and their bodies were covered in an armour of thick, hard scales that was almost impenetrable by most weapons.

The warriors rode two abreast as the path now narrowed and the terrain became more difficult to traverse.  The two who took the lead both carried themselves with an air of authority and a noble bearing, and each was elven fair, but they were as different in appearance and manner as day and night.

The patrol’s leader was covered in a mantle of gold; from the long blond hair that hung freely down his back to the bright warmth of his elven light, he shone with an intensity that seemed to rival the sun.  He was tall, even by the standards of the Eldar, and while lean and lithe, there was a controlled power beneath his slim form that when released would unleash a most fearsome and formidable warrior.  Though his ageless golden-brown eyes missed nothing, and he was well aware of all that went on around him, he seemed at ease, almost relaxed, as the warriors made their way along the trail.

The second-in-command was as dark as his commander was light.  He wore a raiment of deep blue, and his long hair, black as midnight, was pulled tightly back in warrior’s braids. His body was illuminated by a soft and silvery glow, like the stars and the moon of the night sky.  Though he was extremely tall in the eyes of men, he was shorter than his commander, and broader in the shoulders and chest with greater musculature.  A cloak of tension seemed to surround him and he wore a somber expression as his silver-grey eyes warily surveyed the terrain.  Always vigilant, he guided his horse with his left hand while his right remained ever on the hilt of his sword. 

The two spoke not a word and their heads were turned from one another.  The tension between them was not lost on those who followed.  The lone human in the elven patrol cast a quick glance at the one who rode by his side.  The one beside him was identical in appearance to the rather morose dark-haired one who traveled in front, and, unusually, his mood seemed identical as well.

Deciding he could no longer bear the tension he felt around him, Estel whispered to Elrohir in jest.  “Are those two always like this when they travel together?  If so, then perhaps I should have heeded Elladan’s entreaty to remain at home.”

Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the trail ahead, Elrohir responded somberly. “Truly do I wish you had.”  Before Estel could respond, Elrohir continued:  “In answer to your question, well do you know that Elladan and Glorfindel do not always see eye to eye, but their disagreements are not usually this heated.”  Elrohir then turned his head to look intently at the young man.  “Fear for you is at the root of Elladan’s dour mood.”

Not wishing to be drawn into a somber discussion, Estel made another attempt to lighten the conversation.  “Why does it seem to me that I am always at the root of Elladan’s dour moods?”

Elrohir’s expression grew even graver.  “I do not jest, Estel.  There are many evil tidings in this dark time and the Shadow is ever growing.  Now word has reached our ears from Mirkwood that but a decade after the White Council rid Dol Guldur of Sauron’s evil, there are once again signs of a malevolent presence in the fortress.  There is talk that Sauron has sent several of his dark agents, the Nazgul, to reoccupy Dol Guldur and amass his forces.”  Elrohir could not stifle the shiver that ran down his spine at the mention of these beings of utter darkness.  “I do not think it a coincidence that hill-trolls have picked this time to migrate further south and begin plaguing travelers journeying through the high-pass.”

Elrohir paused for a moment and considered his next words carefully.  “Elladan is concerned for your safety on this mission, and well have I learned to trust my brother on these matters.  Many times have I seen in him some degree of the foresight of our father and rarely has his intuition proven incorrect.  This is not a matter to be taken lightly, Estel.” 

Estel looked at Elrohir directly, a hint of defiance entering his posture.  “I do not take the matter lightly, Elrohir, but neither do I take my duty lightly.  I have traveled with the elves of this patrol for well nigh on three years now.  I have fought alongside them and we have faced many a peril together.  While I understand that you and Elladan are concerned for my safety, I could not in good conscience remain safely at home while my brothers in arms face danger without my aid.”

Elrohir felt his blood run cold and true fear course through his body at Estel’s words. Though Estel knew not of his lineage, his words were hauntingly familiar, for Estel’s father and his grandfather before him each had made very similar arguments concerning their duty when faced with Elladan’s earnest warnings of dire consequences if they continued to engage the enemy.  A mere twenty-one years ago Estel’s grandfather had been slain by hill-trolls, and now, the still vivid memory of his tragic death hung around the twin sons of Elrond like a shroud of doom.  Elrohir could not escape the terrible sense that he was inevitably leading Estel to face a similar destiny.  

As was ever his nature, Elladan had not been compliant in allowing Estel the possibility of meeting his fate in a battle with hill trolls.  At first, he asked and then implored and finally ordered Estel to remain behind.  However, Glorfindel decided that he would lead the mission himself and as the commanding officer, he overturned Elladan’s order, allowing Estel his rightful place in the patrol.  Then, Elladan resorted to pleading with their father to prevent the young man from accompanying them, and nearly had he convinced Lord Elrond when once again Glorfindel intervened on Estel’s behalf, arguing that he was part of the patrol and should be included on the expedition.

Elrohir frowned as he thought over the events that had led to a heated debate and, now, tension between the patrol’s leader and the second in command.  As always, Elladan’s behaviour he could understand.  It was motivated in no small part by fear for the safety of the boy Elladan had sworn to protect and grown to love.

Glorfindel’s behaviour, on the other hand, remained an enigma to him, as often it did.  There were times such as this when Elrohir realized that despite having been raised as an elf, even he did not always understand the actions of the Eldar, his mother’s people.  For so many centuries now he and his twin had chosen to spend so much of their time amongst the Dunedain, the human descendants of their father’s brother.  They were a noble and honourable people, but also did they possess a more earthy quality.  They spoke their minds directly and never did their words need to be second guessed, nor were their actions ever shrouded in mystery.  Over the years, Elrohir found that he had grown to appreciate their open manner and frank honesty.

Elrohir shook himself from his thoughts with the realization that Estel was still watching him intently, as if waiting for some answer.  What more could he say?  He had warned Estel as best he could of his concerns.  All that was now in his power to do was to remain as vigilant as his twin and to keep his mind focused wholly on the task in an effort to protect, to the best of his ability, his beloved foster brother. 

Elrohir’s response was therefore resigned, but still tinged with worry.  “There is little purpose in pursuing this line of conversation now, Estel, for the decision has been made; you are with the patrol and you have not shirked your duty.  However, mark you now my words. You must remain ever vigilant, and remember well all that we have taught you.”

Estel, somewhat bemused by this earnest entreaty, gave Elrohir a small smile in an effort to reassure him.  “Of course, my brother.  You can expect nothing less of me.”

The brothers then spoke no more, and fell into an uneasy silence like Glorfindel and Elladan before them.  Each of the four, the elf, the man, and the twin sons of Elrond, kept their thoughts close, for each had much to think on, but all remained wary and alert as the party continued the uneventful search until the shadows lengthened and the sun began to sink below the horizon.

As darkness began to descend, the elves who had been scouting the surrounding terrain reported back to their commander.  These scouts were the swiftest, stealthiest and most experienced elves under Glorfindel’s command, and they moved on foot through the trees of the surrounding forest to speed their search.  Upon hearing their reports, Glorfindel spoke to the rest of the party.  “The scouts detect no sign of troll activity anywhere within a league of our current position.  We will make camp here for the night as the area is relatively secure and there is a creek nearby for fresh water.”

Glorfindel saw to the assigning of duties and most importantly to the setting of the watch.  As the other elves began to make the camp, he turned then to Elladan with a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.  “My young Lord Elladan,  you will see to the making of our evening meal.  We will not risk a fire this night, so I trust that you will not find the preparation of cold rations too taxing?”  Well did Glorfindel know how little Elladan cared for the making of camp meals.

With an exaggerated bow of deference and a flourish did Elladan respond.  “As you command, my Lord.”  Elladan well knew how greatly Glorfindel loathed being called “my Lord.”

With a nod, Glorfindel, now smiling outright, turned to Elrohir and Estel, who had been watching the scene with amusement.  “Will you two see to the care of the horses?”

Elrohir readily returned his smile.  “It would be our pleasure, Glorfindel.”

Elrohir and Estel led the horses to the creek to water, and as they brushed them down, Elrohir spoke, his voice light and teasing.  “Have you forgotten what day it is today, Estel?”

Estel looked to Elrohir, his expression confused and just a little concerned.  “I suppose I have lost track of the days.  Why?  Is today somehow significant?”

“Are you truly unaware that today is the first day of March and you are now twenty years old?  I understand that it is quite a significant year of age in the eyes of men.”

Estel was honestly surprised.  “Truly, I had lost count of the days and forgotten that today marked the day of my birth.”  Estel thought for a moment, and then turned earnest eyes to his foster brother.  “We need not mention this to anyone else.  I do not wish for everyone to make something of it.  It is not important.  Elves do not celebrate the date of their birth, so I need not either. ”

Elrohir could remember a time not so long ago when a very excited Estel would eagerly wake everyone at the first light of dawn on the date of his birth in anticipation of the celebration.  The cooks would prepare for him a meal of his favourite foods and he would receive small gifts from all the members of the household.  While the date of birth was not usually celebrated by the elves, it was important to Estel and his mother, so the peredhil family had made it their tradition as well.  With more than a little sadness did Elrohir realize that Estel had grown too old to be interested in the sweet pastries and small tokens of a birth day celebration.  Truly he was a man now.

After they had finished tending the horses and began their walk back to camp, Elrohir responded.  “You are right Estel, the date of your birth is not important and we would not want anyone to make anything of it.  I will say nothing of it when we return to camp.”  There was a twinkle in his eye and a tone in his voice that gave Estel cause for concern.

They found the others seated in a circle, clearly ready to began their meal of cold rations.  Glorfindel seemed to be good-naturedly goading Elladan about the quality of the food.  Elladan was wisely not rising to the bait.

Glorfindel warmly greeted the late-comers.  “Welcome back!  Come join us in a meal fit for kings!”  He said this with a wink in Elladan’s direction.

As some of the elves shifted to make room for them, Estel saw in the middle of the circle one of his favourite apple pastries with a small lit candle stuck in the middle of it.  Estel turned to Elrohir with a look of accusation, though Elrohir simply responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a mischievous smile.  True to his word, he said nothing.

With a smile, Glorfindel explained:  “I thought we could risk this small amount of light in order to properly celebrate the day of your birth.  Did you truly think that we would forget such an important event?  We all know how much your birth day celebrations have always mattered to you.”

Estel felt his face flush red,  and he lowered his head, whispering under his breath:  “Curse elven memory.”  As the quiet laughter around him grew in intensity at that softly spoken comment, however, he could not help but be swept up in the mirth as he raised his head and exclaimed: “And elven hearing!”

For a moment Glorfindel seemed deeply pensive. “Ah, Estel, we elves will ever be as we are.”  Then the smile returned to his face.  “Please do try the pastry.  I know it is your favourite and your mother is no where to be seen, so I will permit you to eat dessert first!  It may not be as fresh as the day it was baked, but it has been well preserved in baker’s cloth, so hopefully it will be at least edible.”

Deciding to join in the fun, Estel grabbed up the pastry and blew out the candle, making a wish as his mother had taught him to do as a child.  Also, as she had taught him, he told no one of his wish.  He ate the delicious pastry down quickly, for truly it was still quite fresh, without offering a share to those around him.

Glorfindel could not let that slight go by without remarking.  “Ai Estel!  Have we taught you no manners?”

Smiling broadly now, Estel responded:  “If this is to be my birth day celebration, then I shall do as I please.”

Another round of merry elvish laughter followed that comment and truly did they make a joyous celebration of his twentieth birth day, with each elf taking a turn recalling a humourous event from the young man’s childhood, much to Estel’s chagrin.  Estel had to admit to himself though that he was deeply touched by their kindness.  He felt the warmth of love and acceptance radiating from the elves around him and for this moment, he was completely happy and content.

Amidst the merry conversation, Elladan slipped away, unnoticed by all save his twin.  He somberly joined the watch, though it was not his duty.  There was a shadow growing in his mind, a pulling on his awareness, a sign that he had learned to identify as a warning of a tragedy to come.  At this moment Elladan truly cursed his gift of foreknowledge, for little did it tell him other than that an ill event would befall them and soon, though he knew not what, or when, or where, or how.  As he vigilantly strained his keen senses, searching for any small sign that something was amiss, he vowed to himself that he would not let his guard down, not for an instant.  He would not fail Estel as he had failed Estel’s father and his grandfather before him.  Nor as he had failed his own mother.

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It was not yet dawn when Elrohir roused himself from his path of dreams.  More literally, he was pulled from the path to full consciousness by a sensation that all was not well.  His mind was heavy with a sense of restless worry and guilt.  Unfortunately, this had become an all too familiar sensation to him and he knew that it was not his own.

Upon waking, his first instinct was to look to the one who lay at his side.  Estel was safely in a deep and untroubled sleep beside him.  How innocent, almost childlike, he seemed in his sound sleep, Elrohir mused, though truly, while in the eyes of the Eldar he remained no more than a child, he was a man now as his people reckon the years.  His people.  The thought stuck Elrohir that the time was short when Estel would remain ignorant of his true identity.  Then his life would change forever, and likely his days would be harsh and full of hardship.  He realized with great sadness that Estel’s sleep may never be so untroubled again.

Tenderly, Elrohir pulled the blanket higher around the young man’s shoulders, and rising from his bedroll, he made his way easily through the dark to the source of his unease.  There, on the perimeter of the camp he found his mirror image, as he knew he would.  Even in the dim light of pre-dawn, he could see, or rather feel, that Elladan was extremely tense, as if straining his senses to their very limits in an effort to detect something that eluded all perception.

Silently stepping forward, Elrohir gently put a hand on his twin’s shoulder and spoke softly, almost pleadingly.  “Elladan, dawn is almost breaking, you must take some rest while you still can.”

Elladan did not turn to face his brother and he seemed to grow more tense at the softly spoken entreaty.  His voice seemed almost bitter as he responded.  “You of all people should understand that I can not rest.  Or do you too disbelieve me when I tell you that some ill will soon befall us?”

Elrohir moved to stand in front of his twin, and looking directly into the eyes that were a reflection of his own, he spoke earnestly.  “It should go without saying that I believe you Elladan, but if you do not take some rest, you will not be at your best to face whatever challenge lays before us.  You will be of no aid to Estel if you are half-dead from the exhaustion your constant tension and lack of rest has brought on.”

At the mention of Estel, Elladan’s face became a mask of grief.  “Just as I was of no aid to Estel’s father, nor his grandfather before him.”

Elrohir felt Elladan’s sorrow deeply and he pulled his twin into a tight embrace.  Pressing his forehead against that of his brother, he whispered words meant only for Elladan’s ears.  “The deaths of Arathorn and Arador were tragedies that no one could have prevented.  We both fought at their sides and did all that was in our power to protect them, but, sadly,  their time had come.  Ever do you try to carry the weight of all Arda on your shoulders my brother.  You can not master fate, Elladan, no matter how much you may so desire.  Some things are not in your power to control.  How ever will I convince you to let go your misplaced blame and lay down your needless burdens?”

Elladan remained in Elrohir’s embrace and his voice was still deeply laden with grief as he questioned his brother:  “Why then am I able to see tragedy before it happens, but I am unable to do anything to prevent it?  Why am I tormented by a foreknowledge that I can not put to any good purpose?”

“It is not our place to question the will of Iluvatar.  All we can do is accept gratefully that which we are given and trust that all is unfolding as it should.”  Elrohir could feel his brother’s tension ease slightly at his words. 

Now Elrohir released his twin to look in his eyes.  “I implore you again to take some rest.  I will take your place on the watch.”

Elladan tensed once more in resistance to his brother’s plea.  “Nay, this is my burden to bear.  This duty belongs to no one else.”

Gently Elrohir placed a hand on the side of his twin’s face.  “You are me, and I you.  I will be our eyes and keep our watch.  Ease your mind, if but for short time, and trust me to guard Estel, for I love him too.”  Elrohir’s tone was soft but his eyes held a firm resolve and Elladan knew that he had reached the point where his usually pliant brother would bend no more.

Accepting defeat, Elladan averted his gaze and bowed his head.  “Very well, I will try to take some rest, and though I do not think I will find it, there is none but you to whom I would entrust this duty.” 

With that Elladan returned silently to the center of the camp, and finding his bedroll prepared for him, he lay down to find what ease he could.  Elrohir, always true to his word, took his brother’s place and kept his ever vigilant watch until the light of dawn emerged from the east and spread across the early morning sky, painting it with a red glow.

With the lightening of the sky, the camp came again to life, and the elves of the patrol began to busy themselves with the preparations for yet another day of tracking trolls.  Through it all Estel remained asleep, and none of the elves had the heart to wake him, for truly it pleased them to see the young one sleep so peacefully.

Glorfindel found Elrohir on the camp perimeter, still keeping his watch.  “Does your young charge always sleep so soundly?  If so, I wonder that he has not yet found himself as a meal for wargs.”

Elrohir felt the need to defend his foster-brother.  “Do not underestimate Estel’s ever-growing abilities, Glorfindel.  He sleeps soundly now because he knows he is secure, but ever is he on the alert for signs of danger.  See how he keeps his sword close at hand as we have taught him?  I have seen him rouse himself from the deepest of human sleep to a state of full alertness in mere moments at the first hint of danger.  Grant him this peaceful rest, for I do not believe he will find it much longer.”

Raising his arms with his palms out in a placating gesture, Glorfindel responded with a smile:  “Peace, Elrohir, for I was merely teasing.  Well aware should you be by now of my penchant for vexing you and your brother first thing in the morning!”  At this Elrohir found it difficult to resist his desire to roll his eyes, an action that he had been told on several occasions was very un-elven.

Glorfindel continued, though his tone was more serious now.  “Well do I know of Estel’s abilities and great is my faith in him, for had it been otherwise, I would not have allowed him his place on this patrol.  Still, his mortal sleep is so deep, I can not help but wonder where he goes in his dream world.”

Clearly remembering the terrified screams of a very young boy, traumatized by the sudden loss of his father and practically the entire world that was familiar to him, in the throes of a nightmare, Elrohir responded somberly.  “At times, to some very dark places.”

Glorfindel, familiar only with the wakeful sleep of the elves in which he could walk the path of dreams as he chose, found nothing to say in response, for truly he could not begin to conceive of the idea of a nightmare.  However, as he looked around him at the elves of the party each performing the duties assigned to them, Glorfindel did find something to comment on.  “Elrohir, why are you on the watch?  It was not your duty.”

 Now Elrohir found it his turn to be at a loss for words as he did not wish to discuss Elladan’s misgivings with Glorfindel.  If his brother wished to speak more of it, that was his choice.  Thus, Elrohir settled for a response that was no answer.  “There is no harm in an extra pair of eyes to guard the camp.”

An ageless wisdom was reflected in Glorfindel’s eyes as he responded with certainty:  “Ah, so your twin is worrying yet again about Estel, and you, worrying yet again about your twin, insisted on taking his place in order to make him get some rest.”

Finding that he could no longer resist the urge to roll his eyes, Elrohir responded curtly:  “That would be an accurate assessment of the situation, Glorfindel.”  There were times such as this when the ancient warrior had the ability to make Elrohir feel again like a thirty-year old elfling, and at this moment he found himself inclined to agree with Elladan’s opinion that Glorfindel could be exasperating.  Suddenly, he felt true empathy with Estel and he could well understand what it must mean to be constantly amongst beings who are your elders by millennia.

Giving Elrohir a small smile and a knowing look, Glorfindel said no more on the subject as Elladan now approached them, seemingly much refreshed and more relaxed from even the small rest he had allowed himself.

Glorfindel greeted him warmly.  “Elladan!  It is good to see you in better spirits this day.  You, and the rest of the patrol, will be most glad to know that I have decided personally to take on the duty of making of our breakfast.  Might I suggest that you come along to observe, for you may just learn something.”  With a smile and a slight bow of his head, Glorfindel then returned to the camp to begin the meal preparations.

The brothers exchanged a glance as they watched his retreating form and then Elladan spoke softly to his twin.  “I owe you an apology for my previous behaviour and a thank-you, my brother, for truly I feel better for having taken some rest.  Always you know what I need, even if I may not know it myself.”

“You need never thank me Elladan, for when I act in your best interest, always I act in my own.  You have done no less for me on many occasions.”

Unusually, Elladan seemed to hesitate as he looked toward the camp.  Then he spoke with a sigh, a slight grimace marring his fair face:  “I suppose we must now return, for I seem to be due for a cooking lesson.” 

Elrohir could not stifle his laughter at the expression on his brother’s face.  “Do not look so downtrodden!  Are you not always telling me that we should embrace the opportunity to learn new tactics and skills?”  Sharing a laugh, the brothers returned to the camp to rejoin the others and observe the making of the morning meal.

As the elves of the patrol broke their fast, they enjoyed their last few minutes of ease before another long day of scouting and tracking, and soon they were joined by a rather sheepish looking Estel, finally roused from his sleep by the smell of food.  He endured the elves’ good-natured teasing about his sleeping habits with a smile, for truly he felt their love and acceptance.

Estel reflected that it had not always been easy growing up the only human boy in a realm of elves many centuries his senior.  Perhaps he would remain forever as a child in their eyes, for how could they see him otherwise?  Now, however, he knew he had reached an age where he would be considered a man amongst the Edain, and he felt  himself well ready to take on the responsibilities of an adult.  Through his experiences with this patrol over the last three years he had learned so much and gained greatly in his skills.  He had faith in his own abilities, and he was confident that in time he would be able to prove himself as a man to the elves of his patrol.  While he knew not what the future held, Estel now came to realize that if he was to spend the rest of his days in the service of his foster father’s realm, then he would be quite content.

Thus, with a soft smile Estel glanced at the elves around him, until his eyes came to rest on the eldest son of Elrond, and then his smile did falter.  Elladan remained his greatest source of discontent.  Estel remembered well his conversation with Elrohir on his first tour with the patrol and much had he thought over his brother’s words in the three years since.  However, despite Elrohir’s assurances of Elladan’s love, the elder twin remained ever harsh with him.  For the sake of the love they each shared for their brother, Elrohir, Estel had tried again to bridge the distance between them though Elladan continued to keep him away.  With a soft sigh Estel recalled the wish that he had made the previous night, that somehow he could find an understanding and a peace with his brother’s brother.

After the morning meal, Glorfindel met briefly with Elladan and Elrohir in private to discuss strategies for the search and the day’s duties for each member of the patrol.  Estel was included in the conversation, for they always took the opportunity to teach him, particularly concerning command decisions.

Once again, Elladan seemed restless and tense and he spoke insistently to Glorfindel.  “I wish to be included amongst the primary scouts this day for I am not content to sit upon my horse and wait to hear them report their findings.  If we are to engage and destroy these fell beasts then I wish to be amongst those who seek them out, not to wait passively for them to be led to us.”

Glorfindel regarded the elder twin seriously for a moment before responding.   “Ever are you hasty with your decisions, Elladan.  You would best serve the patrol by remaining with the warriors in the main party.”

Elladan tried to reason with his commander.  “My tracking abilities are second to none in this patrol, Glorfindel, and well do you know it.  My skills would be a great asset to the scouting party.”

Though his expression remained serious, there was a glint of humour in Glorfindel’s eyes as he responded.  “Your ability at tracking is not in question, it is your ability to move swiftly and silently through the trees that concerns me.”

With these words, Estel noticed that Elladan was now frowning outright and Elrohir was trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile beneath his hand.  Once again Estel was struck by the all too familiar sensation that he was missing an important part of the conversation.

Elladan’s short temper was clearly nearing an end as he responded testily:  “I was a mere eighty years old!  Are you never going to let me live that down?  Surely you understand that my abilities are much improved since then!”

Glorfindel showed no outward signs of anger but there was a steely resolve in his tone as he answered:  “Truly do I know that you have changed much since then, Elladan, but your rashness and your tendency to rush into danger without due thought and consideration has remained unaltered.”

Elrohir and Estel exchanged slightly nervous glances, for they were both knew where this discussion could be leading.  Over the centuries, Elrohir had seen this conversation played out many times as Glorfindel and Elladan often had differing perspectives and both had strong personalities that frequently clashed.  Estel, too, with his keen, quick insight and his natural intuition, was clearly beginning to understand the pattern of their interactions.

Elladan attempted to keep his temper in check, for he too understood the typical course of his dialogue with Glorfindel.  Ever would he take the opportunity to try to persuade, though in this case he believed it to be futile.  “I am not rash, I simply do not take years to ponder each decision I make.  Certainly, I have changed, and glad I am for it, but you, Glorfindel, have changed little since a time long gone.  Still are you ordering your patrols as you did two millennia ago!  You are never willing to try new strategies that may be beneficial to all.”

Glorfindel now seemed to be amused outright as he shook his head and answered with a smile.  “Ah, young one, never have I seen one amongst the Eldar who is so restless, so driven by the need for change.  Always do you seek to fix that which is not broken.”

While seemingly aware that this was an argument he would not win, Elladan, yet remained defiant.  “Ancient one, always do I try to improve where there are improvements to be made.”

In a tone that made clear the conversation was now over, Glorfindel responded: “Be that as it may, this is an ‘improvement’ that we will not make this day.  Your tracking skills can still be put to good use on the ground with the main patrol, Elladan.”

Thus, the day began much as the day before it, and as the patrol continued its usual search pattern, there was again marked tension between the leader and the second in command.  Also as in the previous day, there continued to be no obvious signs of troll activity through the noon hour, though all remained highly alert.  However, as the day wore on and the shadows were lengthening in the late afternoon hours, the whole party, including Estel, began to notice a change in the air, a sense of deep foreboding that hung around them heavily.

The scouts began to report back to their commanders that increasingly they were detecting the malevolent signs of large, ferocious beasts in the forests surrounding them.  There were scars upon the living woods; trampled bushes, broken tree limbs, and in some cases, giant mature trees recently uprooted from the places where they had grown in peace for centuries.  Also were they finding many fresh remains of such large forest animals as deer, wolves and even bears, all of whom had died of unnatural causes, gutted and desiccated, with little sign left of their previous existence but their bare bones stripped of all flesh and marrow.

As the sun was beginning its descent behind the horizon, Elladan signaled without sound a halt to the slow forward progress of the patrol and leapt gracefully and silently from his horse.  Motioning for Glorfindel, Elrohir and Estel to follow, he knelt and studied the ground beside the trail, and finding what he sought, he carefully moved aside some dense bushes to reveal enormous tracks made by the giant feet of what could only be a troll.  Having never seen one of the beasts live, Estel could scarce believe the evidence before his eyes of the mammoth tracks and the enormity of the creature to which such feet must belong.

Elladan spoke, his voice urgent, but no more than a whisper.  “So fresh are these tracks that I can still feel the heat of the foot that made the indent in the soil.”

Glorfindel promptly rose and without speaking, signaled for the patrol to prepare for the inevitable battle that was imminently to come.  Almost instantaneously, the well-trained warriors were ready to face the fearsome enemy that long they had sought.  Minutes passed and though the warriors remained in their alert battle stance, all was quiet.  Too quiet, Estel realized as he strained his senses to the forest around him, his sword ever at the ready.  Suddenly, Estel felt the ground beneath him shake and at first he thought that he must be experiencing some great tremor emanating from beneath the earth.  Then he heard such a great bellow of unadulterated rage, a seemingly unnatural sound so loud that he could feel it in his bones, and Estel realized with more than a little apprehension that they must have indeed found their quarry.

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Estel heard the beast before he saw it.  The horrendous, near-deafening bellows seemed so unnatural, he could scarce believe that such a sound could be produced by any living creature on Arda.  

He stood with the Imladris patrol in battle formation at the point where dense forest met the sharp up rise of the jagged mountains that marked the western side of the High pass.  The hill-troll’s monstrous roars reverberated off the steep rock walls of the mountains ahead of them, making it difficult for the patrol to determine exactly from whence the sound was originating.  Each step the mammoth creature took as it lumbered between the massive rocks caused the very ground beneath their feet to shake, further adding to their difficulty in locating it.

Despite the ear-splitting ferocity of the beast’s roar and the great tremours sent through the earth by the movement of its vast bulk, the patrol stood their ground steadfastly, each warrior fully focused on scanning the crags and caverns of the massive rocks.  The archers had taken to the trees, their arrows notched and their bows pulled taught, ready to fire with deadly elven accuracy at the first sight of the troll.

Then, with another mighty bellow, the creature stepped out from behind a particularly large formation of rocks and Estel saw for the first time a live troll.  His eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the behemoth before him.  It was colossal in size, with huge muscles rippling on its broad chest and enormous arms, and it stood upright more than twice as tall as the tallest elf amongst them.  Its skin, covered by dense, thick scales, was a grayish hue which seemed to blend in with the surrounding terrain.  Truly it appeared as if the troll had been born from the very rock around it.  It carried in its massive hands a mighty hammer, which if he judged correctly was almost as long as Estel was tall.

Through his many years of study, Estel had been well-trained in the theories of battle against all the fell creatures he might encounter, including, of course, trolls.  Facing the monster before him, that training seemed woefully inadequate.  Estel glanced at the weapon which he held at the ready.  So experienced had he become in battle that now his sword felt like an extension of his very arm.  Always when he wielded it he possessed a sense of power, and was ready for any challenge he might face.  At this moment, however, he felt as though he may as well have been brandishing a dinner knife.

Elladan and Elrohir flanked Estel closely, and Elrohir, as if reading his thoughts, whispered in his ear:  “Remember what you have been taught, keep your focus, and have courage.  All will be well, brother.”

Had the situation not been so dire, Estel might have found himself laughing outright as his mind worked furiously to recall all that he had learned about strategies for fighting these beasts.  The troll’s weak points, if such they could be called, were its eyes, inside its mouth and its neck, right under the jaw, Estel recalled.  He mentally sized up the enraged troll that was rapidly approaching and then he considered the length of his sword.  “If I could but reach its neck.” he muttered to himself.

The twins, of course, heard this whispered comment and Elrohir responded softly.  “Do not fear so greatly the beast’s size, for while it is strong and ferocious in its attack, so too is it clumsy, slow, and very dull of mind.  Use that to your advantage.”

The troll was coming ever closer.  With each lumbering step it took toward them, its blind rage seemed to grow in intensity and its ferocious roars increased in volume as it swung its huge hammer in an apparently random manner, shattering boulders and felling trees with each clumsy yet mighty stroke.  The archers released their volley with an accuracy which would have stopped most beasts dead in their tracks, but many of their arrows merely bounced off the troll’s hide as if impacting with rock, and those few which actually stuck in its flesh seemed to have little effect other than to further enrage the beast and add more strength to the fury of its attack.

The warriors began to spread out to try to surround the troll, in the hopes of bewildering the dim-witted beast and depriving it of an obvious target.  Estel, Elladan and a few others moved around to the left of the troll while Elrohir and Glorfindel where amongst those who started to fan out to the right.  

The troll’s ear-piercing bellows and the loud thud of each of its steps, as well as the crashing of trees and the shattering of rock created a cacophony of noise which made it exceedingly difficult to detect individual sounds, even to the acute hearing of the elves.  However, Elladan could feel that something more was amiss.  Pausing briefly he strained his senses and then turning to search the forest behind him, he declared urgently:  “Another of these fell beasts approaches from the north-west!”

Elrohir, sensing the same discordance as his brother, turned as well to listen.  “Nay, it approaches from the south-west!”

As if in answer, the party was suddenly inundated by a harsh chorus of vicious roars and noisy grunts that seemed to be coming from all around.  With the loud crash of falling trees, two more trolls emerged from the forest behind them.  Three trolls now surrounded the elven patrol.

Glorfindel ordered the party to regroup in the face of this new threat.  As the warriors moved to cover their now vulnerable backs, he spoke urgently to Elrohir.  “It seems as though we have been led into a trap, though I know not how.  Hill-trolls are even more simple-minded and beast-like than their stone-troll cousins.  Never have I seen a hill-troll employ such tactics.  It is as though some fell master adds strength to their will!”

The first troll, apparently emboldened by the appearance of its comrades, began to swing its hammer with even greater vigor at those who were now moving to regroup.  As it raised its weapon high for a particularly mighty stroke, Elladan, much to his horror, now understood who was the intended target of the strike. 

Estel, too, knew that he had become the focus of the troll’s wrath when he saw above him the enormous hammer descending with tremendous force.  Though the stroke was occurring in mere moments, for Estel, with quick reflexes born of his natural ability and intense training, time seemed to slow and with a calm clarity of thought he willed his body to move.  However, though he moved with a haste which could only result from the need to protect his very life, he also realized in that instant that he could not possibly move fast enough to completely escape the blow.

Suddenly Estel felt a solid weight impact against him.  Much to his surprise, however, the force was not followed by the painful sensation of the crushing of his bones, but rather a feeling of being propelled backwards.  With earth-shattering force, the head of the hammer collided with the ground where a mere moment before he had stood.  Breathing heavily, Estel looked up at the rather disheveled figure laying atop him.  With super-human speed, born from his inherent elven ability and his sheer terror, Elladan had saved Estel from the crushing blow of the troll’s mighty weapon.

The troll, still unaware of what had transpired, slowly lifted its hammer in anticipation of admiring its crushed prize.  It was confused to see nothing upon the ground but the deep indent caused by its own weapon.  Bending its mammoth body over, it studied the earth directly before it.  Now convinced that its quarry was not there, it again stood upright and shaking its large head in disbelief, it then scrutinized the hammer closely as if the object held the answer to this conundrum.

In the meantime, Estel and Elladan scrambled to their feet, both a little surprised that they remained hale and whole.  Quickly they assessed the situation.  While Elladan had pushed Estel out of the way of immediate harm, in his desperate bid to save the young man, he had unfortunately driven them both further from the rest of their party, and now a rather confused and very angry troll stood between them and the others.  Remaining silent, Elladan gestured to Estel that they should attempt to sneak around behind the beast while it was distracted in order to rejoin the group.

The troll saw a movement from the corner of its eye and, finally deciding to look around, it slowly turned its head to the side, catching sight of the two little creatures which were trying to skulk away.  Turning its huge body to fully face them and further block their path, the beast let loose a roar of pure rage at the realization that its prey had somehow escaped the attack.  No longer concerned with the other trolls and elves behind it, the enraged beast began to advance with a single-minded ferocity on the two who had denied it its prize.

The troll was now close enough to Estel and Elladan that they could smell its wretched breath and feel a spray of foul, slimy spittle upon their faces as the beast released its ferocious roar, and as it bore down upon them, they soon realized that they had become the whole focus of its wrath.  Sharing a quick glance, they did all that they could reasonably think to do in such a situation; they backed away from the approaching behemoth as rapidly as they were able.  Unfortunately, however, they were being driven closer to the rocky outcroppings of the mountains which marked the western entrance of the High Pass and away from the forest where the others remained.  They were being driven ever further from any hope of assistance.

The rest of the elven warriors were surely now fully engaged with the other trolls and with the addition to two more of the giant, loud brutes, the din and chaos of the battle had grown exponentially.  Elladan knew there was little use in trying to call out for aid, as he was unlikely to be heard above the noise.  Closing his eyes, briefly he sent a thought to his twin.

While Elrohir had not witnessed Estel’s near brush with death, he now saw the troll turning and apparently fleeing.  At this he was baffled, for while trolls were brutish and dull, they could never be described as cowardly; they were ferocious and single-minded in their attack and never would they abandon a battle, not even at their bitter end.  Turning to Glorfindel, he voiced his confusion.  “Why does that troll run from the battle?”

While remaining wholly focused on the trolls in front of him, Glorfindel still managed to respond with a hint of his characteristic humour.  “With the turn of our luck lately,  we can not assume that it is due simply to our good fortune.”

Again Elrohir paused briefly, and turning his head as if listening to something that the others could not hear, he then spoke urgently.  “Nay, it is not our good fortune, for Elladan and, no doubt, Estel, are the objects of that troll’s chase!”

“Then we shall have to give the beast another target!  Why does that brother of yours always court trouble?”  Shouting out some final orders to the warriors who remained in the battle, Glorfindel turned in pursuit of the retreating troll, knowing full well that Elrohir would be close on his heels.  He did not even attempt to order Elrohir to remain behind, for, with the safety of his brothers at stake,  he well knew it would be a waste of his breath.

As the troll continued its persistent chase, oblivious to everything but the objects of its pursuit, it swung its hammer in a frenzy of rage with no regard for the havoc it was wreaking around it, and Elladan and Estel found they were dodging not only its massive weapon but also the shattered rocks and broken branches dislodged by the beast’s mighty strokes.  Soon, however, their retreat came to an end, for they were now in a clearing with the steep craggily rise of the mountain at their backs and they could go no further.  Elladan, sensing that his twin was coming to their aid, drew himself to his full height and readied his sword, firmly fixing his gaze on the approaching troll.  Without turning to look at the one who stood at his side, he spoke with a firm resolve: “Prepare to dance, Estel.  Move now with greater speed than ever you have before, for we will flee no more!”

Upon seeing the little creatures with their backs to the mountains, facing him with their pointy sticks raised defiantly, the troll grunted in satisfaction at finding its prey exactly where it wanted them.  Surely it would only be a matter of a few strokes of its hammer and it would have its prizes.  However, as it started to swing its hammer down upon the head of its quarry, it roared in confusion at yet again finding its target no longer where it was supposed to be.

The more that Estel observed the troll fight, the easier it became for him to anticipate the beast’s actions, for truly neither its brain nor its movements were very swift.  He had learned that the troll’s mobility was hindered by its vast bulk and slow mind, and its attack was cumbersome and awkward.  He was able to dodge the attacks with ease and in the time it took the troll to lift its hammer for another blow, he found that he could get in one or two strikes of his own. 

Estel noticed that Elladan had adopted a similar strategy and the two began to work effectively to coordinate their attacks and baffle the dim-witted beast.  Often Estel had observed with a sense of awe the synchronicity of the twins actions and the unity of their attack as they fought together.  Always did each seem instinctively to know what the other would do next.  Now, he and Elladan found a similar rhythm in their fight against the troll and it seemed as though they were dancing around a near stationary object.  The problem they were now facing, however, was that their sword slashes had little effect on the beast’s thick, armour-like skin.

The troll roared its frustration at being ganged up on by these swift and clever little creatures.  They seemed to move in a blur around its legs like annoying insects, and truly the beast was becoming confused.  Then it heard a shout coming from behind and, turning its head, it was dismayed to notice the arrival of two more of these pesky little things.

Remembering what he had learned of the weak points in a troll’s hide, Estel knew that he needed to reach a higher point of attack.  Taking advantage of the beast’s distraction at the arrival of Glorfindel and Elrohir, Estel managed to scramble up a large jagged rock projecting from the side of the mountain and with a great thrust of his sword, he succeeded in deeply piercing the soft skin directly beneath the jawbone on the side of its neck.  As he saw the gush of blood and felt its warmth on his hand, Estel knew that he had thrust the sword upward through the troll’s neck and mouth and directly into its small brain.

Upon feeling the sword piece its skin, the troll’s eyes widened in disbelief and it raised one hand to touch the side of its neck.  The other hand continued to firmly clench its mighty hammer.  It tried to open its mouth to release a howl of anger and pain, but the only noise that escaped its lips was a small gurgling sound and a pathetic whimper.  Its body began to spasm and its limbs flail about uncontrollably in its throes of death.

Estel quickly jumped down from the rock, and seeking safety from the spastic movements of the beast in its death throes, he pressed himself into a small cave formed in the craggily surface of the mountain.  He did not wish to be anywhere near the giant when it fell.  Elladan, feeling a swell of pride at the courage, cunning, and skill that Estel had displayed, came to stand protectively in front of the young man.

What happened next, no one could have anticipated.  With one last great flail of its arm as it fell, the troll’s hammer impacted with the rock above the crevice where Estel and Elladan attempted to take shelter.  Elladan heard the mighty crash and felt the rock walls around him shake, and looking up, he saw a cascade of enormous rocks beginning to descend upon where they now stood.  Acting quickly, Elladan pushed Estel more deeply into the cave and attempted to shield the young man with his own body.  He felt the first crushing blow of a large rock impacting against his back, and then all went black, and Elladan saw, felt and heard no more.

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Dark.  Upon awakening, his first awareness was of the utter absence of light.  The darkness was oppressive and he struggled to open his eyes, though his eyelids felt heavy and his body ached, and he was quite tempted to give in to the almost overwhelming desire to surrender again to the blissful oblivion of sleep.  With a sense of victory, he finally managed to pry his eyes open, though little good it did him, for still he saw nothing before him but absolute darkness.

The air was hot and thick with dust that seemed to coat his lungs and hinder his ability to breathe.  Though his whole body felt sore, the most intense ache was in his head, which seemed to throb painfully in rhythm with beating of his heart.  Slowly lifting his hand to touch the side of his head where the pain was most intense, he felt a thick, warm fluid that could only be his own blood.  Though his mind grasped frantically for any trace of recollection, he could not remember how he came to be in this dreadful place.  In his pain and confusion, he felt his stomach begin to clench in panic. 

Willing himself to remain calm, he took stock of his situation.  He was laying flat on his back on firm, rocky ground.  Reaching his arms out to search around, he quickly came in contact with the cold, hard, rough surface of what could only be a cave wall.  He could also feel numerous rocks of various sizes scattered on the ground around him.  Suddenly, the memories of what had occurred came back to him in a flash:  felling the troll, seeking shelter in the cave, the earth-shattering crash, the torrent of rocks falling and Elladan pushing him out of the way.  Elladan!  What had become of Elladan?

At the recollection of what had occurred, Estel quickly pushed himself up to sit and immediately regretted doing so as he was overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness.  Steadying himself, he tried again to see around him.  This time he found that he could begin to decipher vague images in the gloom, and his eyes were drawn instantly to a faint glow emanating from a large wall of rocks but a few feet away.

Heedless of his own pain, he scrambled over to the source of the glow and there he found Elladan’s body, or at least what he could see of it.  Elladan lay on his stomach, with his head and chest completely covered by the rubble of the cave-in.  Only his legs protruded from under the rocks.

“No!”  Estel sobbed in anguish, for surely Elladan was dead, crushed under the weight of all that rock.  Tentatively, almost reverently, he reached out to touch the body laying prone before him.  His eyes widened in surprise when he felt not the cold rigidity of death as he was expecting, but rather the warm, if weak, pulse of life beneath his fingers.

“Could he yet live?”  Estel questioned in wonder, as slowly, with shaky hands, he attempted to extricate the body from the rubble.  He knew that he had to proceed with caution, as a hasty move could destabilize the pile and send more rocks crashing down upon them both.  With relative ease he removed the smaller rocks that covered Elladan’s back, and then he beheld a rather extraordinary sight.  Two large boulders lay propped together, each one supporting the weight of the other, directly above Elladan’s head.  During the cave-in, the two great rocks must have impacted together, forming, in effect, a shield against the tide of rocks.  There was but a finger width of space between Elladan and the boulders that were precariously balanced above him.

Quickly appraising the situation, Estel found himself in a dilemma.  He could see that the position of the boulders was unstable and they were straining under the weight of the rocks laying atop them.  Elladan had to be moved with haste, for this unsteady foundation supporting a ton of rock above his head could give way in an instant, crushing him completely.  However, all of Estel’s training and instincts as a healer told him never to move the body of one who might have injuries to the back or neck without extreme caution, for such movement could make the injuries much worse, leading to paralysis or even death.

Taking a deep breath and stilling his thoughts, Estel did the only thing he could think to do given the circumstances.  Placing his hands lightly upon Elladan’s back, with gentle pressure he felt along the length of his spine and neck.  Estel had seen Lord Elrond use this technique to assess the wounds inside a man’s body that were not visible to the eye and he knew that only the most skilled healers in Arda were gifted with such an ability.  Much to his surprise, he found that when he closed his eyes and concentrated, a clear picture of Elladan’s injuries formed in his mind.  He released his breath with a sigh of relief upon sensing that, while Elladan had several cracked ribs, there was no internal bleeding and his spine and neck were not broken.

Estel’s eyes snapped open as he heard the groaning of the boulders straining under the weight atop them.  There was no more time to spare, Elladan had to be moved.  Gently as he could, Estel began to pull the unconscious form out from under the massive rocks.  It was not a moment too soon, for finally the boulders succumbed to their burden and, with the sound of rock grinding on rock, the unstable foundation began to collapse, sending a fresh wave of rubble cascading down.  With all thought of caution lost in the urgency of the situation, Estel quickly grabbed Elladan and pushed him against the cave wall, shielding him from the flying debris. 

When the rocks had again settled and all was quiet, Estel was most relieved to find that neither of them had sustained further injury.  However, as more rocks had fallen and piled up at the cave entrance, the blockade between them and any hope of escape had grown thicker and what little space they had in their rocky prison had diminished.  Between the cave wall and the barrier of rocks blocking their exit there was scarcely room to move.  The second wave of rubble had sent even more dust into what little air remained and, despite Elladan’s soft glow, which Estel noted with concern was far too faint, the small cave was still oppressively dark.  As he struggled to move in the cramped quarters, breathe in the stale air, and see in the gloom, Estel was struck by the thought that they may as well have been in a tomb.

Perhaps they were.

Suppressing a shudder, Estel turned away from his gloomy thoughts and focused his attention on something he could, hopefully, do something about.  Kneeling beside Elladan, he attempted a more thorough examination.  In the darkness, he had to rely mainly on his touch and on his keen instincts as a healer.  He was greatly disturbed by what he found.  Elladan’s pulse was very weak, his breathing was shallow, and his heartbeat was irregular and slow.  While he knew already about the broken ribs, Estel found two other injuries that caused him the greatest concern:  Elladan’s left arm was twisted and bent in several places at the most unnatural of angles, and, even more worrying, there was a large lump on the front of his head, suggesting he had been struck hard in the rockfall.

For a brief moment, Estel felt utter despair.  Elladan was badly wounded, unconscious, his hold on life seemed tenuous and there was little he could do to aid him.  He had no fire, no bandages, no healing herbs and his only source of water was in the small flask that was secured to his belt.  Still, he could not allow himself to give up hope.  While life endured, hope remained. 

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Estel recalled with ease all that he had eagerly learned about the healing arts at his foster father’s side.  Opening his eyes with a new resolve, he decided to focus first on Elladan’s arm.  Gently running his hand down the arm, he was much aggrieved at the extent of the damage.  Never had he seen such a badly shattered limb, and there were numerous breaks in the bones down the whole length of the arm.  If the arm was to have any hope of healing properly, the bones needed to be set and held firmly in place to avoid further damage.  But what could he use as a splint?  There was nothing around but rock and more rock. 

Suddenly, Estel had an idea.  Both of their swords were long gone, buried under a mountain of rubble, but their scabbards remained secured to their belts.  It would have to do.  Estel carefully set the bones in place and then firmly secured the scabbards to either side of Elladan’s arm with long strips of fabric torn from his cloak.  Sitting back, he surveyed his work with a sense of satisfaction.  The splint was crude, but it would serve given the circumstances. 

He used more long strips of his destroyed cloak to tightly bind Elladan’s chest, securing the broken ribs, and then, with more than a little trepidation, Estel turned his attention to the lump on Elladan’s head.  Head wounds were always worrisome and difficult to assess, particularly when the patient lost consciousness. The injury might be little more than a minor concussion or it could indicate much more serious brain damage.  However, the fact that Elladan had remained unconscious for so long did not bode well. 

Truly, Estel was at a loss as to what to do.  Clearing his mind of conscious thought, he let his instincts take over.  He felt the need to touch Elladan, to try to share his strength with his ailing foster brother.  Tenderly, he pressed one hand against Elladan’s head, and the other he laid on the injured arm, and then he whispered in Quenya the healing chants he had oft heard Elrond speak over the most gravely injured in his care.  As he focused his whole attention on the chant and an image of Elladan’s broken body mending, he felt a tingling in his limbs, a warmth that spread down his arms and through his hands.  Elladan’s skin grew warmer beneath his touch and then, as suddenly as it had begun, the unusual sensation faded.

Elladan’s condition seemed to improve almost instantly.  His elven glow increased in intensity and his pulse and breathing became more steady.  His eyes began to flutter under his still tightly closed eyelids and he took on the appearance more of one who was in a deep sleep rather than one hovering on the brink of death.

Estel, suddenly feeling very tired and drained of all energy, sagged against the cave wall and watched Elladan’s seemingly miraculous transformation with the greatest relief and more than a little wonder.  In all honesty, he knew not what he had done, if in fact he had done anything at all.  Truly, it was of little importance to him, all that mattered was that Elladan would live.  Overwhelmed by his exhaustion and relief, fear and joy, Estel wept, and soon, no longer able to resist his body’s demands for rest, he slipped into a light sleep.

Slowly, Elladan dragged himself back to consciousness.  Once awake, however, he wished he was not, for his whole body seemed to be in pain.  In particular, he was aware of his aching arm, his sore chest and an intense throbbing in his head.  He was lying on the hardest, roughest surface he could imagine and as he opened his eyes he saw nothing but blackness before him.  Attempting to sit in order to gain a better understanding of his situation, Elladan was rewarded with a fresh wave of pain for his efforts and releasing a groan, he again lay himself down on his most uncomfortable bed.

He heard movement and then he could barely discern in the darkness the worried face of Estel hovering above him.  “Lie still, Elladan.  You are badly injured.  How do you feel?”

Elladan could not suppress another groan at what stuck him as one of the least intelligent questions he had heard in a while.  “I have faired better.”  Speaking was difficult, for his dry throat felt as though it was covered in a layer of dust and his voice sounded surprisingly weak and frail to his own ears.

He felt a hand slip beneath his neck, providing him firm but gentle support, and a flask was placed to his lips. “Take some water, it will help.” 

 Estel spoke to him with a tone of  authority that Elladan had never before heard from the youth and he gratefully accepted the proffered water, savouring the cool liquid as it quenched his thirst and cleared his throat.  “My thanks, Estel.  Truly I do feel better.”

So great was Estel’s joy at seeing Elladan awake and lucid that he spoke with a jovial familiarity that normally he dared not use to address the elder son of Elrond: “Welcome back to the world of the living Elladan!  I regret that I am unable to offer you better accommodations.”

At the mention of their current surroundings, Elladan voiced the question that was foremost on his mind.  “Where are we?  What has happened?”

Estel frowned in concern as he questioned:  “Do you not remember?   

Elladan shook his head and instantly regretted the action; first, because Estel was unlikely to see the gesture in the dark and, second, because the movement caused his head to throb in a most unpleasant manner.  “Nay, I fear that my recent memories are a bit hazy.”

“We are trapped in this cave behind a wall of boulders due to an unlucky series of events involving an unfortunate choice of shelter on my part, a dying troll’s errant hammer and a large number of falling rocks, from which you saved my life, yet again, and for which I am most grateful.”

With this brief explanation, Elladan’s memories of battling the troll returned with clarity, and his thoughts quickly turned to concern for the youth’s welfare.  He scrutinized the young man more closely in the near-dark, this time noticing with his keen sight the dark stain that could only be blood beginning on Estel’s temple and running down the side of his face.  “You are wounded,” he stated with concern.

Only now did Estel remember his own injury and he reached up to touch his temple, finding that the blood had already dried and the wound had closed.  “It is a mere scratch, nothing to worry about.”  Estel replied dismissively and, attempting to turn Elladan’s focus away from himself, he added:  “Not like your injuries.  Truly you gave me a scare for a while.”

With that, Estel proceeded to describe what had occurred since he had awoken in the cave; the position he had found Elladan in, the second cave-in and the nature of his injuries.  He avoided mention of how he had healed Elladan, for he knew not what to say.

As Elladan listened, his eyes grew wider in disbelief and he exclaimed in wonder:  “How is it possible that I live?”

Estel, feeling emboldened by their circumstances, murmured under his breath, knowing full well that Elladan would hear him.  “No doubt it is due in no small part to your stubborn nature and your hard head.”

While Estel had gained greater confidence in his own abilities as he spent the last few years on patrol, ever had he remained soft-spoken and deferential, and Elladan found himself smiling a little at the youth’s new-found boldness.  Pausing to inspect the make-shift splint, Elladan also had to admit to himself that Estel’s ingenuity under extremely difficult circumstances was impressive. 

However, Estel had avoided answering the question to his satisfaction, and so Elladan pressed the issue.  “Perhaps it is, but I suspect that even my ‘stubborn nature’ must have had a little help, for as you describe it, my condition was grave.  You had no medical instruments, no healing herbs, not even so much as a fire to boil water and yet you seem to have pulled me from the brink of death.  What did you do?”

Estel knew Elladan well enough to understand that he would not let the subject drop without a satisfactory answer, and so, accepting defeat, he described as best he could what had taken place.

 “You have done this?”  Elladan could not conceal the wonder in his voice.   

Feeling his face flush, Estel lowered his eyes and responded softly: “It was no more than I have seen your own father do on many occasions.” 

The two fell silent.  Once again, Estel was overcome by a feeling of deep exhaustion, and he succumbed to his need to sleep, leaving Elladan to his thoughts.  

Elladan found his mind sifting through his memories of Estel’s childhood.  Ever since Arathorn had died when Estel was but an infant, Elladan had sought to protect the boy from all possible harm.  Still he felt acutely the guilt of Arathorn’s death and truly he did not believe his heart could bear to face again the untimely death of one of his human kin.  Always he had pressed Estel to improve his skills, for Elladan was well aware that his very life could depend on the stealth of his step and the accuracy of his aim.  Perhaps, though, he had been too harsh on the boy at times.

Now he was beginning to understand that while he had ever diligently scanned the horizon, he had missed what was directly before him.  Truly Estel had proven himself fully on this mission.  Not only had he shown impressive courage, quickness of mind, and ability in battle, he had displayed level-headed fortitude under pressure and amazing ability as a healer.

Elladan thought again of how Estel had healed him.  That degree of skill he had seen only in his father before.  He had known, of course, that Estel displayed a natural talent for healing, but never had he grasped the full extent of the boy’s gift.  Truly, his hands were the hands of a healer, and perhaps, as Elrond had oft foretold, the hands of a king.

As Elladan gazed upon the sleeping youth with a new found respect, the dismal cavern seemed to grow brighter.  Much to his amazement he saw on Estel’s head a magnificent white winged crown, bejeweled and glowing, and there before him in the image of a young man was a vision of the kingdoms of men restored to their former glory and of all that was pure and good in men.

The vision was gone as quickly as it had appeared and again the cave was dark.  Elladan sat in silent contemplation, deeply in awe of what he had seen.  The vision had left him with one gift; he understood now with deeper clarity than ever before his purpose.  Truly the days grew darker and he knew that a time of great challenge lay before them all.  In the darkest of times, in the shadow of the greatest evil, he now knew with certainty his place, fighting alongside the best of men, and in particular, at the side of one great man destined to be king.

Feeling slightly dizzy, Elladan was drawn from his thoughts back to their current predicament.  He could feel that the air was growing thin and stale.  It was becoming ever more difficult to draw breath.  Little good would his vision do him if they were both to perish in this dismal place.

Calming his thoughts, he focused his mind on reaching out to his twin.  A slight smile graced his lips as he felt his brother’s strong and healthy fea.  The smile faded, however, when he also sensed Elrohir’s desperation.   Elladan whispered words too softly for Estel, still deep in sleep, to hear: “I know you are coming for us brother, I but ask that you move with even greater haste, for I fear that if we do not soon taste fresh air, this cave will surely become our tomb, and all our efforts to keep hope alive will have been in vain.” 

This chapter caused me the most difficulty, though I don’t really know why.  Please review and let me know what you think.  I love to hear your reactions and opinions.

Elrohir arrived at the clearing as the sun was slipping behind the trees in the west.  He was just in time to witness Estel piercing the neck of the troll with a mighty upward thrust of his sword.  Elladan, looking truly proud and impressed by Estel’s abilities, came to stand protectively in front of the young man as the dying troll began to flail about erratically.  While Elrohir too felt a surge of pride at Estel’s skill and courage, his heart soared indeed to see the same feelings mirrored on his twin’s face.  Perhaps his stubborn brother was finally beginning to recognize what had long been before his eyes.

Elrohir was quite literally shaken from his thoughts by a tremendous, earth shattering crash.  His soft smile was quickly replaced by an expression of utter horror as the troll’s giant hammer impacted on the rocky mountainside above where Elladan and Estel stood and a great torrent of rocks descended upon his twin. 

“NO!”  As absolute terror replaced rational thought, Elrohir began a mad dash towards the collapsing cliff wall.

He had barely taken the first step, however, when he found he could run no further.  Held fast in Glorfindel’s strong arms, Elrohir struggled frantically, desperate to reach his brothers.  In response, Glorfindel tightened his hold and spoke urgently:  “Do not add yourself needlessly to the casualties!  There is naught we can do to stop those boulders!”

Truly Glorfindel was right, as usually he was.  Already Elladan and Estel had vanished behind an enormous pile of rocks.  Even with elven speed, there was not time to save them.  His desperate sprint would only have served to put himself at risk of being crushed as well.

As the avalanche soon subsided to a trickle of shifting rocks, the dust began to clear and all grew eerily silent.  The darkness of night had now settled completely over the small clearing in the woods.  Glorfindel released his hold and Elrohir sank to his knees.  He turned haunted, almost hollow eyes on his commander, his voice nearly devoid of expression as he spoke:  “I can no longer feel him.”

Struck by the emptiness reflected in Elrohir’s eyes, Glorfindel paused briefly before he responded, a slight tremor in his voice.  “Do you believe him dead?” 

Closing his eyes and releasing a shaky breath, Elrohir attempted to bury his fears as he shook his head and started to reply with more certainty than he felt.  “Nay, he is not dead.  He can not be, for surely I would know.  I feel nothing at all, nothing but darkness where normally I sense his presence.  I fear that he is gravely injured.  I know not of Estel.”  As he spoke these last words his resolve faltered and his voice was little more than a sob.

“Then hope remains,”  Glorfindel responded firmly as he turned to assess the situation and survey the damage. 

What he saw left little hope in his heart.  The landslide had displaced large masses of earth and rock and now a thick wall of stone covered the cave where Elladan and Estel had stood mere minutes before.  To further complicate matters, the troll had unfortunately fallen across the cave entrance and now its massive, rock-covered body served as a further blockade between them and any hope of rescuing the two, if indeed either did still draw breath.

Glorfindel frowned.  He and Elrohir could not clear the debris unaided.  The body of the troll was far too large for them to move on their own;  it would have to be hacked into smaller, more manageable, pieces and each piece hauled away separately.  With that accomplished, they would still have to remove an enormous pile of heavy boulders.  The task would take the two of them a very long time.  Too long.

Glorfindel’s heart constricted with grief at the realization that they would have to  withdraw from the cave-in.  As much as the thought of leaving Elladan and Estel trapped amongst the rubble pained him, he had a responsibility to all under his command and he knew not how the rest of his patrol fared against the other two trolls.  With great sadness he realized that his main objective now was to minimize the number of lives claimed by this ill-fated mission.  He could not remain here, engaged in a near futile attempt to rescue two who may well already be dead, while twenty elven warriors under his command required his aid and his leadership.  Hopefully, they could dispatch the trolls with haste, and then he would be free to return with a whole patrol of able-bodied elves to aid in the rescue effort.

Drawing a deep breath, he turned to look at Elrohir.  The son of Elrond was already attempting single-handedly to remove an enormous boulder from the pile.  The expression on his face was a mix of firm determination and utter desperation as he strained under a burden that was far too heavy.  Glorfindel was well aware of how this decision would be received.  In most circumstances, Elrohir was quite content to take orders; however, he could become most defiant when the safety of those he loved was under threat.   

Glorfindel spoke to him with firm authority:  “Elrohir, we must return now to the battle.  We know not how the others fare.”

For a brief moment, Elrohir simply looked at Glorfindel as if he had grown another head.  Then he responded, his voice harsh and angry.  “Surely you do not mean to abandon my brothers?  I will not leave them!”

Glorfindel’s voice remained even, but he fixed upon Elrohir a gaze of such intensity that few could meet without averting their eyes.  “Well should you know that I would not abandon them, not if any small hope remains.  You also know well that the two of us will have little effect against this mountain of stone.  We must enlist the aid of our brothers-in-arms, yet they can not come to our aid until all of the trolls are vanquished.  We must go now to complete our duty.”

Elrohir did not flinch as he continued his defiance, the fire in his voice not yet quenched.  “Go if you must, but I shall not.  I will remain and do all that is in my power to reach my brothers.”

Glorfindel’s expression softened and he lay a hand gently on Elrohir’s shoulder.  “I am afraid that your power alone is not sufficient against this obstacle, young one.  With Elladan and Estel buried amongst this rubble,” here his voice faltered, “you are the only hale healer remaining amongst us.  Though I hope it is not so, others may need your skills.”

With these words, Elrohir bowed his head and lowered his eyes at the realization that his brothers-in-arms, elves he had fought with for many centuries, may too be in need of his aid.  

Seeing that his words were having an impact, Glorfindel continued:  “Even now we are losing valuable time.  Let us put an end to this conflict quickly that we may focus wholly on saving all who can be saved.  Come with me now, and soon we shall return in force to move this mountain.  Then we will not cease our labour until we find your brothers.  This I swear unto you.”

Again, Elrohir hesitated, his heart torn.  He knew that somewhere amidst this great pile of rubble lay Elladan and Estel, trapped, injured, possibly dying, perhaps dead.  How could he simply turn away?  As he surveyed the devastation before him, though, he had to admit that Glorfindel spoke the truth.  They could not possibly move this massive mound of rock by themselves in time to save his brothers, if indeed they could be saved at all.  

With a new resolve, he sent a clear thought into the void where normally he sensed his twin: ‘Hold fast, for I will soon return.  Nothing will keep me from you.’  With that, he turned and sped from the clearing with great haste, his desperation adding a swiftness of step that he had never before achieved.

So fast did they run that in mere minutes they arrived again at the site of the battle.  Quickly assessing the situation, Glorfindel was most relieved to see no apparent injuries amongst the remaining members of his patrol.  The same could not be said of the trolls, for one already lay dead, felled by the skill of his elven fighters. 

The second troll, however, fought on with an intensity that Glorfindel had never before seen in its kind and the elves had been forced to adopt a defensive position as the beast rained savage blows down upon them.  Of course, all trolls were ferocious fighters, but this one’s behaviour seemed different to Glorfindel’s experienced eye.  Its actions were far more deliberate and calculated than a typical troll attack, which, while always vicious, was usually more or less random, fuelled by the beast’s blind rage and its lust for the kill.  This troll seemed determined to systematically eliminate all who stood before it and, though the skilled warriors dodged its strikes with elven speed and attempted their own counter attacks, nothing could deter it from its purpose. 

The troll had never felt such hatred.  Other beasts were there for it to kill, usually to eat, sometimes merely for the pure pleasure of killing.  However, now it attacked with one single purpose in its dull mind:  revenge.  These little creatures with their sharp blades fought back with a skill to which the troll was unaccustomed, but it took no notice of their strikes, so great was its anger and its grief.  These things had just killed its brother, and it was determined to avenge its kin, even if that meant its very death.

Elrohir joined in the fray without hesitation.  There was no time for reflection, time was of the essence and his brothers’ very lives could be at stake.  As he danced about the troll’s massive legs, repeatedly slashing at its thick hide, so great was his desperate need to fell the beast that he paid little heed to the mighty hammer blows crashing around him.  The troll was nothing more than another obstacle between himself and the possibility of rescuing his brothers, an obstacle he intended to eliminate with the utmost haste.

Thus, the troll and Elrohir clashed in battle.  They were as different as any two on Arda could possibly be:  one, swift of mind and body, lean and lithe, fair and good;  the other, dim of wit, bulky and slow, fell and evil.  However, though they knew it not, the disparate beings had one thing in common:  both fought fearlessly and with deep passion, for each fought for the sake of their fallen brother.

The troll released a monstrous roar of anger.  Two more of the little creatures had joined the attack against it; one that shone like the sun it so loathed, and one that slashed at its hide with a speed and strength it had never before seen.  Though two more would normally not have mattered to it, with their arrival the others fought as well with a renewed vigor and now they seemed to swarm around its legs.  It would first have to kill the annoying, nasty little one that kept repeatedly nicking at its thighs, the beast decided as it raised its mighty hammer with focused aim on one particular target.

Elrohir continued to hack at the troll with all of his considerable strength, though he was well aware that his best efforts were having little impact.  The troll’s thick scales formed a very effective armour and though he was succeeding in drawing thin lines of black blood, he knew the cuts were shallow, merely surface wounds.  He had to find a weakness in the beast’s hide.

Suddenly, he sensed the change in the air as a heavy object came hurtling down toward his head, and his instincts, finely honed through many centuries of training and experience, took over as he dropped immediately to the ground and rolled between the troll’s legs, just barely avoiding the massive hammer as it impacted with the ground.  Elrohir frowned as he mentally chastised himself for his inattention to the beast’s weapon.  That had been too close.  He could not save his brothers if he himself were dead.

As he looked up at the back of the troll’s legs from his position on the ground, a thought struck him suddenly.  In order for the beast to be able to bend its knees, the skin directly above the joints would have to be thinner and more supple.  With great speed, Elrohir again took up his sword, and with all the strength he could muster he pushed the sharp tip of the blade forcefully through the back of the beast’s knee.  His suspicion had been correct, for the skin was much weaker at the thin crease of the back of its knee joint, and his sword sunk deeply into the flesh as black blood gushed from the wound.  With a strength borne of urgency combined with the deftness of his skill, he sliced though the tough, thick sinews that held the great beast’s knee.  Withdrawing his sword rapidly, he quickly repeated his actions on the other leg.

The troll felt the blade piece its leg deeply, and it roared its rage, but it cared not about the intense pain.  These little creatures had to die, it had to avenge its brother, and it tried to raise its hammer again for another blow.  However, much to its confusion, it could not take a step.  Suddenly its legs buckled beneath it and the troll found itself falling face first toward the ground.

“Run away!” was all Elrohir had time to shout as he fled with great speed as far as he could from the floundering troll.  He desperately wished to avoid a repeat of the tragedy that had befallen his brothers and he was most relieved to see that the others had responded to his vague warning with the greatest haste.  All were a safe distance from the massive beast when it fell.

The earth shook with tremendous force as the enormous body impacted on the ground with a mighty crash.  Though it would never again stand upon its feet, the troll continued to roar ferociously and lash out with its arms, frantically trying to grab and crush with its huge hands any of the little creatures that dared venture too close.  The elven warriors, however, wisely kept their distance from the frenzied fallen beast.

Elrohir, however, was moved by pity for the mighty troll.  Though the beast was completely and utterly evil, it had fought bravely and with a passion that, oddly, he found he could somehow understand.  No matter how evil, no creature deserved to suffer like this.  While the troll continued to fight, its movements were growing slower and weaker as its blood drained from the wounds.  Elrohir easily jumped upon its massive back and avoided its futile attempts to grab at him as he sunk his sword deeply into the beast’s neck, putting an end to its pain.

Glorfindel immediately rallied his warriors around him.  After a quick confirmation that none had sustained any grievous wounds, he related to the rest of the patrol the tragic circumstances in which they had left Elladan and Estel.  With great haste, they returned again to the quiet, dark, place where the two were entombed in a massive pile of rock. 

With an efficiency borne of many years of command, Glorfindel quickly organized the rescue efforts.  Some elves undertook the most unpleasant task of dismembering the body of the troll which blocked the cave, while others, working in pairs, arduously began, boulder by boulder,  to move the mountain of rock which lay between them and the ones they sought.

Elrohir tackled the boulders with an intensity born of his desperation and his fear. Still he could not sense the presence of his twin, and it worried him greatly.  Nothing would now prevent him from reaching his brothers.  He would not cease his search until he had found them, even if it meant removing every rock from the cliff.  If he found Elladan and Estel dead, at least then he would know with certainty their fate.

As he strained with Glorfindel to lift a particularly large boulder, he gasped and nearly dropped his burden at the sudden return of a very familiar sensation.  It was as though a dim light had penetrated the darkness in his mind.  Turing eyes full of hope on Glorfindel, he exclaimed in wonder:  “He lives!  Elladan is alive!” 

Quickly, though, his expression darkened again when he sensed the weakness of his brother’s fea.  “He is very weak and he struggles for breath.  Glorfindel, we must double our efforts!  He is running out of fresh air and I fear we shall not reach him in time!”

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Blood smeared on the rock.  Elrohir paused from his labours just long enough to cast a brief scowl at his bleeding, swollen hands.  The palms were covered with cuts and his nails were cracked and torn from many hours of digging and scraping the rough surface of the heavy rocks as he strained to lift them.  He was quite certain that his hands would pain him greatly had they not become numb long ago. 

None of that mattered, of course.  The cause of his distress was not so much the state of his hands as the fact that the blood was making them slick and the lack of feeling prevented him from getting a firm grasp on the boulders, hindering his progress.

With a frustrated sigh, Elrohir continued his ceaseless labour.  The sky was beginning to lighten and become tinged with the red of dawn, but he did not notice, nor did he care.  He knew not how long he had persisted, but the incessant noise of rock grinding on rock had become his constant companion as he moved one heavy boulder after another.

A loud crack resounded through the clearing as a particularly large boulder slipped from his grasp, pinning his fingers beneath it, and he released such a curse that he earned a look of mild surprise from the ancient balrog slayer toiling at his side.  Carefully, Glorfindel helped to free his fingers from under the rock, but, as Elrohir tried again without pause to resume his work, he was stopped by a gentle yet firm grasp on his hands.

After a quick examination of the damage, Glorfindel spoke, looking him steadily in the eyes:  “You will be glad to know that your fingers are not broken, , but you must take some rest.”

Shaking his head in resistance, Elrohir tried unsuccessfully to remove his hands from Glorfindel’s unyielding grasp.  “Nay, I can not stop now.  Elladan still lives, but he grows ever weaker.  I know that we are close, but time is short.  There is not the time to rest.”

Glorfindel responded firmly:  “We have all been working to the fullest extent of our endurance to remove these boulders, but the others, at least, are willing to admit their limitations.  You have laboured throughout the night without taking so much as one moments rest, and now your exhaustion is becoming dangerous. At times such as this, you can be as stubborn as that brother of yours.”

With a sudden sharp tug, Elrohir succeeded in freeing his hands.  “While I appreciate your concern, I will remind you that your brothers are not the ones trapped amongst this rubble.”

Looking resigned, Glorfindel attempted a compromise:  “Will you at least grant me the time that it takes to wrap your hands?  You will be able to gain a greater hold on the rocks if you are not bleeding on them.”

Elrohir had to concede the truth in those words.  He dipped his head slightly in acceptance and sat wearily upon one of the nearby boulders, offering his torn hands palm up to Glorfindel.  Sitting for the first time in many long hours and feeling the firm but comforting pressure of the bandages being wrapped around his wounds, he realized how deeply exhausted he was.  

He sighed in frustration.  Though Elladan was likely only a few paces away from where he now sat, he may as well have been in Valinor.  His twin was close, that much he knew, but, despite all of their tireless efforts, still there remained a wall of rocks dividing him from his brothers.  If only he could know with certainty where they lay amongst the massive pile of rubble.

Drawing in a deep breath and clearing his mind of his worry, Elrohir tried to focus wholly on locating the presence of his twin.  As he reached out with his senses, he felt an unusual tugging on his mind, as if an invisible chord was drawing him near.  Without a word, he stood abruptly, the unfinished wrapping dangling loosely from his hands, and he began to walk with sure steps toward the source of the pull.

He stopped in front of a rather nondescript pile of boulders.  Though they appeared the same as all the rock around them, he could sense heat emanating from the very stone.  Smiling broadly, Elrohir turned to meet Glorfindel’s questioning look.  “Come quickly and help me!  They are right here!”

Elrohir directed the elves who came with haste to his aide.  “Lift these rocks, but do so carefully.  I believe that we are very close!”

With the utmost care, they began to remove the boulders, starting at the top of the pile and working down.  As a few of the larger rocks were removed, they found, much to their astonishment, that a small crevice of open space remained between the rock pile and the surface of the mountain.  Though seeing the gap in the rock gave their hearts hope, it was difficult to believe that two people could live for so long with such little air.

Soon, however, much to their great relief, they began to detect the faint sound of voices, though the words were indistinguishable over the noise of the grinding and scraping of rock as the excited elves continued to break down the barrier of stone.  Elrohir peered anxiously down into the growing gap in the wall of rocks, and finally he could distinguish the familiar glow of his twin in the dusty gloom.  Feeling suddenly like a giddy child, he called out joyously:  “Elladan!” 

As Elladan looked up in response to his name, Elrohir’s elation quickly turned to worry when he saw the weariness and pallor of his brother’s face.  “How do you feel?”

Elladan had heard the question twice now within the span of a few hours and it seemed to him no more astute upon the second asking.  His voice was frail and scratchy, but also tinged with a hint of humour as he responded:   “I have fared better, though obviously I yet live.”  He felt weak and tired and his whole body ached, but so great was his joy at seeing his twin again that Elladan could not resist the opportunity to tease, and hopefully put his brother’s mind at ease, as he smiled weakly and added: “I know you are never one to act in haste, Elrohir, but truly you did take your leisure on this occasion.”

 Elrohir could not help but smile in response.  “You certainly are one to talk my brother!  You lie there and leave the rest of us to do all the work!”  Though he knew that Elladan’s smile and jest must mean that all was relatively well, still he had to give voice to his greatest remaining concern.  “And what of Estel?  How does he fare?  Better than you, dare I hope?”

Elladan was about to answer when he was interrupted by a second voice, which sounded almost as tired as his own.  “Do not worry, Elrohir.  I am fine, though I do believe I would feel much better out of this dreary cave.”

Elrohir’s smile broadened at hearing Estel’s voice.  “Then lay back and take your ease, my brothers, and very soon we shall have you free.”

With much lighter hearts the elves carefully removed the few remaining boulders which stood between them and Elladan and Estel.  Finally, Elrohir could get a better look at the state of his brothers, and he observed them with the eye of an experienced healer.  He was most pleased to see that Estel was relatively hale given the circumstances.  He was tired and dirty, of course, and there was a small and superficial cut on his temple, but he was not in bad shape, all things considered.   

Elladan, however, did not fare so well.  His left arm, his chest, and his head were tightly bound in a fabric that appeared to be the remains of Estel’s cloak and his face was drawn and pale.  Frowning with worry, Elrohir held out his hand to his twin, offering him his support. 

Elladan too studied his brother with concern.  He saw his own weariness mirrored on his twin’s face and he was dismayed by the state of Elrohir’s hands.  However, he was far too tired to refuse his brother’s offer of aid, and he wrapped his good arm around Elrohir’s waist, leaning on him heavily as they slowly made their way around the rubble and out of the cave. 

After a few paces, the exhausted brothers sank to the ground.  Elrohir, mindful of Elladan’s injuries, wrapped his arms around his twin in a loose embrace, and spoke softly, “Elladan, it is so good to see you.  I will admit that for a while I began to lose hope.  When I could no longer sense your presence, in my heart I feared the worst.”

Trying to ease his brother’s worry, Elladan responded lightly:  “Have you so little faith in my stubborn nature, Elrohir?  You of all people should know that I would not give up so easily!  An avalanche of boulders is no match for my hard head, or so Estel informed me.” 

At the mention of the young man, Elladan suddenly grew deeply pensive, and he added in a much more serious tone:  “Truly, though, I owe my life to him.”

Elrohir looked over at Estel, who was being tightly wrapped in Glorfindel’s cloak, before turning again to Elladan.  “What did he do?”

Elladan looked down at the ground as his thoughts turned inward.  “He healed me.  He brought me back from the very brink of death with his touch.  Often you have urged me to open my mind to Estel, and I know now that I should have followed your advice.  I have underestimated the young man’s abilities.  In truth, I have been misguided about a great many things.”

Elrohir’s eyes widened in wonder as he spoke in a whisper:  “He healed you with his touch?  Is he really the one for whom we have waited so many generations of Men?  Though I have wanted it to be true in my heart, I have scarce allowed myself to believe it.  As you well know, father believes it is so.  Perhaps there are times, Elladan, when we should take greater heed of our father’s wisdom.  He did not name the boy ‘Hope’ without reason borne from foresight.”

“Truly not,” responded Elladan distractedly, for he seemed far away in his own thoughts.

Elrohir was about to question him further when Glorfindel approached, looking Elladan over with a critical eye.  “We will make camp right here in this clearing, though some distance away from the cave-in, of course, where it is relatively secure.  Already the forest feels brighter without the taint of the trolls.  Your bedroll is ready.  You need rest, and perhaps some of your father’s pain relieving tea.”  This was spoken in a tone that brooked no argument.

Helping his brother to stand, Elrohir again supported him as they slowly made their way over to where the bedrolls had been laid out.  After settling Elladan and checking over his injuries, Elrohir then turned to Estel, who was already nearly asleep.  Gently, he placed a hand on the side of the young man’s head and his eyes fluttered open in response.  Though Estel smiled at him, Elrohir could sense that he now carried his own burdens. 

“How do you feel?”  Elrohir enquired.

“Weary,” came the mumbled response.

Smiling warmly, Elrohir took a closer look at the head wound to assure himself that Estel was in no danger.  Then, after carefully cleaning and bandaging the cut, he spoke softly:  “Sleep now, little brother, and later we shall speak more.”

Estel nodded in agreement as his eyes again slid shut.  Soon he was fast asleep.

Elrohir then turned his full attention to his twin.  After giving him some medicinal tea for his pain, he carefully unwound the makeshift bandages and thoroughly examined each injury.  He was quite satisfied that, with time, Elladan would heal completely.  As he rebound the wounds with a proper splint and bandages, he could not help but be amazed by Estel’s healing abilities.  What Estel had done was remarkable and quite likely had saved Elladan’s life.

As Elrohir gently tended him, Elladan remained awake, but he spoke not a word and seemed to be deeply immersed in thought.  When he was finished his work, Elrohir sat back and studied his brother intently.  Ever had his twin been as familiar to him as he was to himself, but Elladan was somehow different now.  It was as though a burden had been lifted from Elladan’s shoulders, only to have another added; as though he had been granted many answers, yet left with many questions. 

Frowning in confusion and concern, Elrohir put a hand on Elladan’s shoulder and, feeling the need to communicate with his brother, spoke, his voice tinged with worry.  “You are changed,” was all he could think to say.

Elladan looked at him absently as he responded.  “Changed?  Perhaps I am, but then again, perhaps I am not, for nothing has truly changed, and yet many things are different.”

Again Elrohir frowned.  “I do not understand, Elladan.  It is unlike you to speak in riddles.”

Sensing his brother’s concern, Elladan pulled himself fully from his thoughts and gave Elrohir a reassuring smile.  “Do not worry, I will be fine.  I do not mean to speak in riddles, I merely have much to think on.  We will speak of this again another time, and I will give you a clear answer when I have one to give.  What I need most now is rest, and soon I will be back to my charming old self.”

Elrohir’s worry eased a little with his brother’s smile, and though he was well aware that he had been given no answer, he knew that eventually Elladan would share with him his thoughts, as always he did.  He managed a somewhat mischievous smile of his own as he responded:  “If you fall asleep now and wake up ‘charming,’ then I will surely know that you are changed!”

Elladan managed another weak smile at his brother’s jest, but said nothing in response.  As the medicinal herbs were taking effect and providing him some relief from his pain, his weariness and his need for healing sleep was overtaking him. He found himself being pulled irresistibly to the path of dreams.

Pulling the blankets higher around his twin’s shoulders, Elrohir spoke softly.  “Sleep well, my brother.  The rest will do you much good.”

“And you too.”

Elrohir knew that familiar voice and he responded without turning around to face the speaker.  “I wish to remain awake, Glorfindel, at least for now, in case my brothers need me.”

“Both of your brothers sleep soundly.  You, too, need to rest, after you allow me to tend to your hands, of course. You can be woken easily enough if you are needed, though I do not believe it will be necessary.”

Glorfindel spoke with that tone again, and Elrohir knew there was little point in trying to argue.  Honestly, he found the thought of taking some rest to be quite appealing.  He would not sleep, of course, but merely lay down to appease Glorfindel while remaining awake to attend to his brothers should he need to.  With a slight nod of acceptance, he once again offered his injured hands to Glorfindel’s care. 

After he had finished cleaning and wrapping the wounds, Glorfindel gently yet firmly placed his hands on Elrohir’s shoulders and guided him to lay back on his bedroll. He spoke softly:  “Sleep now, child, for you are much in need of rest.  Do not worry about Elladan and Estel, they will be well attended.”

Elrohir cast another glance at each of his brothers before he allowed himself to contemplate all that had recently transpired, for he too had much to think on.  In a short while, however, he found his thoughts beginning to drift and wander, and, though he had no intention of sleeping, his exhausted body and mind betrayed him.  Before he realized what was happening, he was firmly pulled into his path of elven dreams, and all three brothers slept, side by side.

With this chapter, this story comes to an end.  I have more ideas, both for a prequel and a sequel to “Day and Night,” but I would very much like to hear your thoughts on this final chapter, so please leave a review.  Reviews are always greatly appreciated and highly motivating. 

The prequel is likely the one that I would write first, as it would introduce Elrond and Gilraen, two other characters whom I find utterly fascinating, and take a look at Elrond’s relationships with his sons (perhaps a little different than you are used to) and Gilraen’s relationships with them all.

I am sure that most of you reading this are aware that Elladan translates as “elf-man” from the Sindarin.

Finally, I would like to thank my beta reader--my husband.  He first introduced me to Tolkien’s world, for which I am grateful, and without his constant encouragement and support,  I am quite certain that none of my writing would ever have seen the light of day. 

A wonderful aroma drew Elrohir from his path of dreams.  Blinking his eyes into focus, he looked around, slightly confused.  Judging from the position of the sun in the sky and the lengthening shadows, it was now late afternoon.  His face flushed slightly with his dawning realization that he had practically slept the entire day away. 

Turning his head to the right, he saw Elladan, with his eyes tightly closed, still deeply asleep beside him.  Elrohir reached over to gently touch the side of his brother’s neck in order to reassure himself of his condition.  With a sigh of relief, he found that his twin’s breathing was deep and even and that he was merely in a healing sleep.

On his other side, Estel slept lightly and restlessly.  He moved around a lot, muttering softly to himself, and a frown marred his young face.  Elrohir was deeply saddened by the realization that even in his sleep he now seemed weighed down by care.

Upon sitting up, Elrohir could see that the others had set up camp and caught some game, and that the source of the delicious smell that had woken him was a pot of stew which bubbled merrily on the campfire.  Though, no doubt, Glorfindel had still set a careful watch, with the elimination of the threat of the trolls he had allowed the comfort of a fire and some warm food.

The aroma drew his attention to a feeling of emptiness in his stomach, and Elrohir realized that it had been long indeed since he had last tasted food.  With one more concerned glance at his brothers, he stood and joined the others around the campfire, gratefully accepting the proffered bowl of stew.

He was well into his second helping when he was joined by Glorfindel, who was smiling brightly.  “It is so good to see you finally awake and, by the looks of it, eagerly filling your belly!  I am sure, though, that all present can understand your desire to eat so heartily, considering the amount of time you spent in sleep and the quality of the meal.” 

Feeling quite content now that he was rested and fed, and, most importantly, now that his brothers were safe, Elrohir returned the smile and responded in a jovial tone: “Who could resist a meal as tempting as this?  I believe I taste your skill in its creation, for no one else could produce a stew so savoury!”   

Elrohir quickly grew more serious again, however, as he continued with a slight bow of his head:  “Clearly you were correct, as usually you are, my captain.  Truly, I was far more weary than I was willing to admit.  How did Elladan and Estel fare while I slept so soundly?”

Glorfindel responded with a reassuring smile. “Worry not, for your brothers too remained asleep for the duration of your rather lengthy nap, and the rest will do them both much good as well.”  Turning his gaze to look at something just behind Elrohir, he then added:  “Although, now it appears that one does stir, and we will soon be joined by another who could no longer resist the temptation of my cooking.”

Following Glorfindel’s gaze, Elrohir saw Estel approaching the campfire.  The young man’s mood seemed somber as he sat at Elrohir’s side and accepted a bowl of stew with no response but a slight nod of his head.  He kept his eyes directed toward the ground, as if in deep thought, and he began moving the food around with his spoon without taking a bite.  

Elrohir frowned in concern.  The youth had always had a healthy appetite and truly he should have been famished by now.  He watched him play with his food for a while and, when he was quite certain that Estel had no intentions of actually eating any, he placed a hand gently on the young man’s shoulder as he asked:  “Estel, what say we take a short walk, if you are feeling up to it?”

Estel looked up sharply, suddenly pulled from his thoughts.  He seemed to consider Elrohir’s suggestion carefully before he nodded his head slightly in acceptance.

As the two stood to leave, however, Elrohir hesitated and glanced in Elladan’s direction.  Glorfindel had been observing all with an interested eye and, understanding the source of Elrohir’s reluctance, he spoke:  “Go and take your walk, as long as you remain within the perimeter of the watch.  Worry not about Elladan.  He will be in good hands while you are gone.  I will see to it.”

Casting Glorfindel a look of gratitude, Elrohir guided the young man into the surrounding woods.  Throughout his childhood, Estel had always sought solace in the forests of Imladris whenever he had needed comfort or simply the opportunity to think. As he was clearly troubled, it seemed fitting that they should walk between the trees now.  They walked together in silence for a while, though they had not gone far when Elrohir stopped Estel with a hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to sit on a large fallen log.

Looking at him directly, Elrohir spoke earnestly: “Tell me what troubles you, Estel.”

Estel looked down, gathering his thoughts, before he responded.  “I assume that Elladan told you what happened in the cave?”

Elrohir answered softly:  “We did not speak much of it, but he told me a little.  He told me that you healed him.”

Closing his eyes at the recollection of his ordeal in the cave, Estel spoke, a slight tremor in his voice:  “I do not understand what happened.  At first, I nearly gave up hope.  I was trapped in that dreary dark place with Elladan in dire need and no healing supplies to aid me.  I knew not what to do for him and I feared for his very life.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Estel continued:  “Then, suddenly, the answer came to me.  It was not so much a conscious thought as an instinct, a knowledge which flowed from a source deep within.  Since I was a little boy, ever have I sought to learn all that I can of the healing arts, and I would watch our father at his work whenever I was able, but never did I think myself capable of such ability.  To heal with a touch belonged in the realm of mighty elf lords and was far beyond anything I could hope to achieve.”

Again Estel paused briefly, a look of bewilderment upon his young face.  “I do not understand how I was able to heal him with my touch.”

Placing a hand on Estel’s shoulder, Elrohir responded with a hint of awe:  “It is a gift, Estel, a very special gift that has been granted to you.”

At this, Estel raised his head to look at Elrohir directly, his eyes pleading for knowledge.  “But who am I to be given such a gift?”

Sighing in frustration, Elrohir carefully considered his answer to this dangerous question.  What could he now reveal to Estel?  Though much needed to be said, there was very little that he felt able to say. He had sworn to his father never to speak to the youth of his true lineage, and it was the charge of Elrond alone to reveal that truth. 

Suddenly, he recalled the conversation he had had with Elladan but a few days before, and he found thereby a response of sorts, though he well knew it was not the answer that Estel sought.  “Recently someone else very dear to me posed a similar question, and I find that I must give to you the same answer that I gave to him:  it is not our place to question the will of Iluvatar.  All we can do is accept gratefully that which we are given and trust that all is unfolding as it should.”

Estel frowned at these words.  Yet again Elrohir had skirted around the heart of the answer to the question which plagued him once more:  who was he and what was his place?

Seeing this reaction, Elrohir felt moved by pity for the young man, and he deeply wished that he could help Estel unravel the mystery of his past and his future, but unfortunately it was not his place to do so; at least, not at this time.  “I am truly sorry Estel, for I can tell you no more, though I do believe that father will have a great deal to discuss with you upon our return to Imladris, and it is my dearest hope that your questions can finally be answered.”

Estel continued to frown, but said nothing in response, for well had he learned over the years when a subject was closed and he would gain no further information from his brother.

Elrohir, wishing to lighten his little brother’s mood, placed his arm around the young man’s shoulder as he continued in a much more jovial tone:   “Father will be very pleased and most proud of you when he hears of the bravery, cunning, and skill you have displayed here, Estel, for I will be sure to tell him of every detail!” 

Feeling his face flush slightly, Estel smiled a little as he responded:  “Perhaps you need not tell him everything.  He need not know that I destroyed my cloak to wrap Elladan’s wounds and used scabbards to set his broken arm!”

Still smiling brightly, Elrohir shook his head.  “Nay, I will be sure to include that detail, for it shows your ingenuity and your ability to be creative under pressure!”  Then his smile faded slightly as he grew more serious again.  “Truly you are a gifted healer, Estel.  Father will help you learn to channel your gift and use it reliably, and you will be able to do much good with your skill.”

With a bow of his head and a smile, Estel responded humbly:  “For that, I would be most glad.”

Then, for a time, the brothers spoke no more of what had occurred in the cave or what was to come upon their return to Imladris.  Rather, the conversation turned to much lighter matters, and once again, Elrohir was able to ease Estel’s mind as they sat and talked merrily of many things until the fading light of evening gave way to the soft glow of twilight.

Elladan had begun to rouse himself from his sleep soon after Elrohir and Estel left the clearing.  His first conscious sensation was of the pain that seemed to course through his body in rhythm with the beating of his heart and he was half tempted simply to return again to the peaceful path of dreams.  However, he was also aware of the presence of another nearby and he could not resist the desire to open his eyes and greet the one who was faithfully at his side.  To his surprise, however, it was not his twin, but rather Glorfindel who knelt beside him, a cup of steaming liquid in his hand.

Glorfindel smiled slightly at the look of disappointment on the other’s face as he offered the cup to Elladan and helped him to sit.  “I have prepared for you some more of your father’s medicinal tea.  You have slept so long that I judge the effect of the last draught to have worn off by now.”

“You judge correctly,” said Elladan weakly and, for once, he did not protest, but rather gratefully accepted the cup and Glorfindel’s assistance as he quickly consumed the bitter pain-relieving brew.  As he began to lie back again to await the tea’s effect, however, he stopped himself and looked around with concern.

Glorfindel, understanding the source of Elladan’s worry, gently placed a hand on his chest and eased him to the ground as he told him:  “Your brother and Estel have just now left for a walk, for I believe they have much to discuss.  You need not worry, for both fare much better than you, of that I can assure you.”

Satisfied with that response, Elladan remained on his back as he waited for the herbs to take affect.  Though he lay down, however, he was unable to relax, for his mind was heavy again with thoughts of all that had occurred.  He needed time to think, but he was restless and overcome by a desire to get up and move, to try to take some action to ease his distress.

Soon, the pain had receded greatly and he felt well enough to sit up with little difficultly. Again, Glorfindel was at his side.  “How do you feel now, Elladan?  If you are hungry, I have prepared a most delicious meal.”

Casting Glorfindel a look of exasperation, Elladan responded, slightly testily.  “Nay, I thank you, but I do not wish to eat.  What I desire most is solitude.”  Suddenly, and as impetuously as always, Elladan stood, swaying only slightly as he added:  “I wish to take a walk.”

“You want to take a walk in your condition?”  The expression of utter disbelief on Glorfindel’s face at that statement struck Elladan as rather humorous, for rarely did he have the privilege to witness such a sight. 

Elladan allowed a slightly pleading tone to enter his voice.  “I can no longer simply lie here, Glorfindel.  If I do, I think I shall go quite mad.  I have most certainly spent more than enough time lying around during this past day already.”

Shaking his head, Glorfindel responded:  “I can not believe that I even consider this, but I will allow you to take a very short walk on one condition:  I will come with you.”  Before Elladan could even open his mouth to argue, Glorfindel added in a tone of finality:  “It is the only way I will allow it.  Your brother would surely have my head if I permitted you to go wandering off alone in your state.”

Looking resigned, Elladan responded with a sigh.  “Very well, then, come along.  We will not go far.” 

With that, Elladan turned and slowly began walking.  However, much to Glorfindel’s surprise, he headed not towards the woods, but rather towards a large outcropping of boulders on the side of the mountain.  Stopping him with a hand on his shoulder, the elf lord asked incredulously:  “You have a broken arm, cracked ribs and a bump on your head and now you wish to climb rocks?”

“I do not wish to climb the mountain, Glorfindel.  I simply wish to get a better view of the surrounding terrain.”

“Ever does your gaze turn to the horizon, young one,” said Glorfindel quietly with another shake of his head as he studied the cliff wall toward which Elladan continued to walk.  Finding a relatively easy path up to one of the larger boulders, he followed closely behind his charge, ready to catch him should he drop where he stood.

The short climb was gradual and easy, but still Elladan relied heavily on Glorfindel’s assistance as they carefully made their way up.  Soon, they sat side by side atop the boulder overlooking the forest to the west.  Much to his displeasure, Elladan found that the small exertion had taken its toll far more than he would care to admit, and his need for action was quenched, at least for a time.

For a while neither spoke as they sat, each deep in thought, until finally Elladan gave voice to one of the many questions which plagued him.  “Why did you insist, against my objections, that Estel be included on this mission?”

Glorfindel weighed his answer carefully before turning to look at Elladan directly.  “Your objections were borne from the warning of your foresight.  You knew that the path ahead would be treacherous and fraught with danger, and, fearing for Estel’s safety, you sought to protect him from harm.  In truth, your fears did prove valid, for you both have endured great pain and hardship on this journey.”

Raising a hand in order to forestall the words of a rather bemused looking son of Elrond, Glorfindel continued:  “It is my experience, Elladan, that unfortunately there are times when the hard road is the only way to reach an important destination.  Though you have devoted much attention to teaching Estel, perfecting his skills, and trying to keep him from harm, never have you allowed yourself to truly know him.  Say what else you will, but your experiences here have enabled you each to learn a great deal from the other, though the course to true knowledge was difficult, as often it is.”

Elladan could not resist a slight smile at those words.  “I would say that ‘difficult’ is most definitely an understatement.  But then again, you were not the one who endured a mountain of rock descending upon your head!”

Glorfindel returned the smile.  “Nay, ‘tis true.  I was merely required to remove said mountain from atop your head!”

As suddenly as it had appeared, Elladan’s smile faded and he bowed his head as he pondered Glorfindel’s words.  His mind returned, as often it had during the course of the past day, to his vision of Aragorn crowned and the nobility of the kingdoms of men restored.  Again turning to face Glorfindel, he spoke softly.  “You do speak the truth, though.  I have indeed learned much from this trial, and not only about Estel, but also of myself and my purpose.”

At first, Glorfindel did nothing but look at him with an intensity that seemed to pierce him through, and, though he knew better, for a fleeting moment Elladan could swear that the ancient elf lord was able to read his hidden thoughts.

Then Glorfindel’s expression softened and he turned his gaze away as he responded, a hint of sorrow in his voice.  “Ever have you walked in two worlds, Elladan.  Even your very name highlights the dichotomy of your being.  Your father did not choose to call you ‘Elladan’ lightly.  Though it pained him, he could not deny the truth of it, for your name cleaved to you from the moment you came into this world, screaming and strong of will, or, as your mother would tell it, even before, judging from the strength of your movement within her womb.  Ever since you were but a babe, you have charged through your life, restless and driven by the need to control and change the world around you.”

Elladan bowed his head and did not speak, for the truth of these words weighed heavily upon his mind.

Glorfindel continued, his voice earnest and tinged with melancholy as he spoke:  “We each have our role and our place.  Long have elves dwelt in Middle Earth, content to live very much as we have always lived, but the end of our time here draws near.  You know that the shadow grows and a time of great darkness is upon us.  Very soon, as elves count the years, all we who dwell still upon these Hither Shores will face our final challenge and the fate of Arda will be indelibly decided.” 

Glorfindel now turned again to look at him directly, and there was a depth of sorrow in his eyes that Elladan found he could not completely comprehend.  “So too, Elladan, do you and your brother and your sister face a challenge, and so too will your fates be finally decided.  As you well know, the time will soon be upon you all when you must make a decision, a choice which once made can never be revoked.  Your decision, whatever it may be, will have many repercussions and affect many lives, for the better and the worse, though I can say no more of it, for your path is not open to me and no one can make this choice for you.”

Elladan said nothing in response, for he was at a loss for words and his heart was conflicted, filled at once with deep sadness, but also with great hope.  Moved by empathy, Elladan lay his right arm around Glorfindel’s shoulders, and they sat together in silence for many minutes as they watched the sun begin her descent into the west, and as, in one final blaze of glory, she painted the sky in brilliant hues of red and orange and gold before she finally succumbed to the inexorable force which drew her to her rest, and day yielded to the night.