Brother, where art thou?

Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author’s note:

Many thanks to my beta, Erulisse. 

Summary:

While doing a simple errand, Elladan vanishes without a trace.

Rating:

PG-13

Chapter 1:  Images and Fears

Elrohir jerked upright from his bed with a cry and looked around, panting rapidly. In the dimness he slowly registered the familiar surroundings of his room in Imladris and tried to get the trembling of his body under control. It was already past midnight and the full moon cast a pale light through the open window. The candles on his nightstand had long since burned down.

What had disturbed his rest? Trying to remember and collect his fraying thoughts he begun again to shiver, as the images of his dream crept slowly back in his mind. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs he tried to remember.

He sat bolt upright as he recalled his brother’s voice calling out to him in panic and fear. After reviewing what had awakened him, he wasn’t so sure anymore that he had been dreaming. The images stood so clear and sharp before his mind’s eye that he shivered even more, despite the warm summer night. He could still see his brother’s face contorted in pain and pale with fear.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, Elrohir closed his eyes and searched the bond that connected him with Elladan; a routine that was second nature to him. At first he couldn’t feel Elladan’s presence, causing him to nearly cry out again. His heart now thudding wildly in his chest, he tried to still his agitated nerves and concentrated harder. Now he could detect a faint glimmer, but nothing compared to the strong and sparkling thread they normally shared.

He let out a small sigh of relief. Elladan was at least alive, but that was it. Something terrible must have happened to him to reduce the light of the other elf to this faint flicker. With all his might he tried to reach his twin, to reassure himself that Elladan was still clinging to life and to send comfort but he failed miserably. He could not establish a real connection and, worst of all, he got no response.

Not able to stay in bed any longer, much less find sleep again, he quickly scrambled out of his large bed, picked up his night robe and rushed through the large room. Carefully he opened the door that connected his bedroom with that of his brother to look if he had only a bad dream or if Elladan was still not back home. The bed was empty. Elladan was still out there and his faint hope that his dream would mean nothing was crushed.

Elladan had been overdue for two days.  He had calmed himself by telling himself that this could have happened because of bad weather, blocked paths, or something similar that could cause a delay.  But he now knew that something had happened to his brother and that his brother had tried to reach him.  He must take action quickly.

While opening the door to the corridor he listened briefly. All was quiet and the long walkway was empty. His cry had not alerted anyone. Closing the door silently behind him, he turned to the right and hurried down the dimly lit corridor toward his father’s chambers. He forcefully suppressed the urge to run to the stables and hurry into the night. As he hastened past his father’s study he stopped, not surprised to see light there.

Obviously he wasn’t the only one, who could not find rest. Peering through the slightly ajar door, he saw his father standing on the balcony beyond the open door of his study gazing into the night. Fully knowing that his presence had been already noticed the younger twin entered the room and stopped beside his father. For some while they simply stood there, savouring in silence the other’s welcome presence.

Still agitated over the disturbing images whirling through his mind Elrohir could stand the silence no longer. Not sure how to voice his fears he finally whispered: “Something is wrong,” knowing that his father would know who he referred to.

Elrond didn’t look up. “He’s only two days late,” he said evenly never breaking his concentration. His stiff shoulders and worried face, however, betrayed his calm voice.

Elrohir sighed. “Ada, Elladan has cried out for help to me in a…dream and now I can barely feel him.” After saying the words he wasn’t so sure anymore, but the disturbing silence coming from Elladan was still screaming at him to act.

Shocked the Elf-Lord turned and looked at the younger twin searching not only the young elf’s eyes. He had also felt a disturbance in the bond he shared with his oldest son, but not with this intensity and his link wasn’t as strong as what the twins shared.

Seeing the open worry now on his father’s face, Elrohir tried to tell his father all he had experienced and felt a few moments earlier and the frown on the Elf-Lord’s face deepened.

Seeing Elrohir shiver he opened his arms and Elrohir moved only too willingly into the comfort offered. He would never be too old for this he decided in this instant and felt no shame. “We will wait until the morning and then we will search for him,” the Elf-Lord said eventually having made up his mind already.

Drawing back from his father’s arms, Elrohir opened his mouth to protest, but closed it quickly knowing that his father was right. Stumbling in the dark not knowing where to start would achieve them nothing. Besides he could not really help in this matter. His visions were always very vague and confusing.

He could neither point out a place to start the search, nor could he even tell what had befallen his brother. But one thing he knew with certainty: Elladan was in danger and needed their help – his help.

In spite of being unconvinced that waiting was the correct decision, he consented to his father’s suggestion. A bad feeling was spreading in his abdomen; a feeling that they were losing precious time by waiting. He hated this uncertainty, but most of all he hated waiting and doing nothing. Terrible thoughts were crossing his mind. Rolling these thoughts over and over would drive him mad.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Elrond laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. “In the morrow we will look after your brother and we will find him,” he tried to reassure the younger twin, with more confidence in his voice than he actually felt himself. Elrohir nodded and also looked into the night trying again to get a better connection with his brother. Seeing the first sparks of dawn he sighed. Soon they would be on their way to look for Elladan.

*Hold on, brother, we will find you and bring you home*, he thought but failed again to send this message across their bond.

He could not have known how wrong he was.

…………………………………………………………..

As Elrohir joined his father in the dining room a few hours later he looked pale and tired. He hadn’t slept a minute, his thoughts whirling around what could possibly have happened to Elladan. He had wished for the daylight to come much faster. Countless times he had tried to reach his brother but only silence had greeted his efforts. His anxiety had grown with every minute. The same thought tortured him over and over: that they had waited too long; that there was no longer any chance to help; if they had only arrived a bit earlier….

Walking across the room toward his seat he only perched on the edge of the chair and looked at his father. “Ada, we cannot wait any longer, something is completely wrong.”

Sighing, the Elf-Lord looked up. “Elrohir, please sit down and eat something, you ….,” he held up his hand to stop the younger twin’s protest. “I have already spoken with Glorfindel and Erestor. We can leave shortly.”

Elrohir nodded relieved and sprung up. He felt sick at the thought of eating one bite. No, he couldn’t. He hastened down the corridor toward his chamber to grab the bag he had packed earlier. Finally they could leave and discover what had befallen his brother.*Elladan, hold on, we are coming*, he sent along the bond, but was again rewarded with silence.

………………………………………………

The Elf-Lord looked after his youngest. He was as anxious to leave as Elrohir, but he wanted to be prepared. Running heedless into an unknown situation would achieve nothing; nonetheless he also could barely wait to depart.

After Elrohir had left his study the night before, he had summoned Glorfindel and Erestor to help plan the search. Both of his Councillors were immediately focused on the preparations necessary to begin searching for the older twin.

Elrond quickly inventoried the healing supplies he would bring with him.  He had the bad feeling that he would sorely need them, although he hoped that feeling was in error. He prayed that this time he would not learn that his worst nightmare had come to pass.

To be continued………

Brother, where art thou?

Chapter 2:

An unfriendly welcome

As Elladan rode through the gate of the little town named Adlen, a hundred leagues north of Rivendell, he instantly felt the hostility greeting him.

He inclined his head towards the two guards, only to receive dark scowls from the burly humans. Full expecting that the guards would stop him, he slowed his horse but to his surprise they did not call out to him. He felt their piercing gazes at his back, while he slowly entered the town.

The streets were full of humans tending to their business. He instantly felt uncomfortable as he looked at the grey buildings and decided that the whole town looked uninviting.

The people passing by looked either unfriendly, afraid, or didn’t acknowledge him at all. The dark-haired elf dismounted with a sigh to avoid accidentally colliding with people in the bustling crowd. He arched an eyebrow. What was going on here?

The elves had a history of good relations with these townspeople; through many years of trading with the little town.

He sighed again and shrugged his shoulders. He was weary and wanted nothing more then to complete his task and then return home. For weeks now he had been travelling to buy supplies for the winter which Rivendell could not provide for itself.

This was the fifth town on his route and he only wanted to do what he needed to do as quickly as possible. He only wondered why the town was in such bad shape. What had become of the supplies Rivendell regularly sent?

He was jerked from his thoughts as he nearly bumped into a man, suddenly standing there out of nowhere. He was about to apologize as the man snapped at him.

“Watch out, elf.” he hissed angrily. Narrowing his eyes, Elladan looked up surprised at the unfriendly tone.

“You got in my way, human, not the other way ‘round, but if I have hindered you, then I’m sorry,” Elladan said, not wanting to attract any further attention. He started to go around the man, who stubbornly refused to move aside, as another man, standing behind the speaker, forcefully grabbed the mane of his horse and yanked hard, causing the beast to whinny.

Elladan’s head snapped toward the other man and glared at himangrily. “Release him at once!” he said in a low voice.

The man was not at all intimidated, yet he released the mane and stepped closer toward the dark-haired elf. “You stand in our way, elf. We don’t want you here. I suggest you leave now and crawl back into the woods where you belong.”

Elladan´s anger rose. What had he done to deserve such ill-will? He took a quick look around and saw other men coming closer. He had no illusions on which side they stood.

Then he glared back at the man, now standing right in front of him. “I will leave when I’m finished here and not a second earlier. Now, move aside!” he growled with one eye constantly watching his surroundings.

As the man reached to grab the elf’s tunic, a yell came from across the marketplace. “Harad!” an old man shouted, “let the elf be and back off!” For long seconds the situation seemed frozen, as the two men contemplated what to do.

Finally they scowled at the old man, turned, and walked directly toward him. As they passed the old man they pushed him to the ground. “Be careful, old fool, or something will happen to you,” the older of the two hissed and within seconds they were gone.

With a displeased murmur, the gathered crowd disappeared and Elladan had the bad feeling that they were disappointed that nothing had happened. Patting his mount on his long neck, Elladan resumed moving and, crossing the marketplace, extended his hand, helping the old man back onto his feet. “Thank you,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

The old man shook his head and looked at the elf’s concerned eyes. “You should not linger here too long. The town is dangerous of late. Much has changed in the past two years and not to the better. The new leader Aduran is a tyrant and not very fond of strangers, to put it lightly. And watch out for his son, Harad. Aduran is a fool, but Harad is cold as ice and a life means nothing to him.”

Elladan’s concern increased. “Two men cannot harass a whole town. Why does no-one act against them?”

The old man sighed ever looking over his shoulder. “They are brutal and reckless. Everybody who has acted against them, has mysteriously disappeared, or been found at the river with a cut throat. No one knows who is secretly loyal to them. There are many traitors and spies all over.”

Elladan shook his head. He didn’t like the sound of this one bit. “But my kin supplies them with provisions for the winter,” he stated incredulously.

“Yes,” the old man nodded, “but Aduran and his son sell the provisions to the Easterlings and the people here are still hungry and not prepared for the winter.”

Elladan closed his eyes briefly. As soon as he was back at home he would look into the best way to deal with this situation, but for now he must complete his task. He would certainly not skip it because of a few over-agitated men. Before he could ask the man more he had disappeared. Elladan shrugged his shoulders and resumed his way.

He rounded a corner and stepped into a small alleyway leading to the stables. He heard hurried footsteps behind him. He whirled around, but it was already too late. A heavy wooden club connected hard with the side of his head, rendering him unconscious.

………………………………………..

As he awoke the first sensation he felt was pain; throbbing pain that pulsed in waves through his head. As he tried to open his eyes he felt warm blood trickle down his temple to soak into his tunic. With his eyes squeezed shut he tried to sit up, only to realize that his hands were bound behind his back.

Ungracefully he fell back and took slow breaths to dampen the pain in his head somewhat. After a while he opened his eyes again and tried to focus his blurred vision. He didn’t succeed and realized that the head wound was serious enough to worry him.

He leaned back and tried to relax, finding movement difficult with his hands bound. He was surrounded by darkness and it was cold. After the rushing of blood in his ears had quietened somewhat, he heard voices.

Straining, he tried again to search his surroundings, identifying the place as some sort of storeroom.  Despite his pounding headache he extended his senses to distinguish the spoken words.

“Are you mad, son?” an angry voice hissed. “You have nearly killed the elf and what do you think should we do with him now?”

“I don’t care,” the other voice responded. “I don’t want them in our town.”

“Neither do I, but now we cannot let him go. He would disturb our plans.”

“Exactly. We must get rid of him and quickly, before anyone asks foolish questions.”

Elladan swallowed and his blood ran cold. Their intentions toward him were now clear. He must escape somehow or he was dead. There was no room for questions or explanations now. But how could he achieve anything in his current state? He struggled wildly to loosen the bonds but without any bit of success. The only thing he gained was the increased pounding of his head.

Before he could think about what to do next the door opened and the two men he had heard stood in the door frame. The younger of the two was Harad.  He was one of the thugs he had met earlier in the day.  The other was most likely Aduran, his father and the mayor of this town.

“Look, he’s awake,” Harad exclaimed. “They are tough, as I said.” He leaned forward and to check the elf’s bound hands.

Quicker that a mortal eye could follow Elladan kicked out and smashed his boot directly against his captor’s knee. Harad stumbled back with a cry of pain. With both hands he held his quickly swelling knee and looked accusingly, despite his pain at his father.

“As I said, they are uncivilised and unbending.” The older man snorted and shook his head. “Get rid of him and take care of his belongings. No sign should indicate that he was here.”

Adruan turned on his heel and Elladan saw his last hope, to talk sense in someone with enough wit, leaving the storeroom.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you.” Harad said and hobbled nearer, still holding his injured knee. The lust to kill sparkled clearly in his eyes. Elladan swallowed. This man was definitely mad, and if no-one stopped him, his chances of survival ran thinner with every passing moment.

Before Elladan could think of how to escape this madman, he gasped as Harad´s boot connected hard with his unprotected ribs. He gritted his teeth as another kick crashed into his upper torso. Unable to defend himself with his hands bound behind his back, he curled up as tightly as possible to protect his body at least a little against the vicious blows. After a while, he had no idea of how long, his world exploded into pain. He could not hold on any longer and slipped into blackness.

The man realized that the elf didn’t move any more. He stopped kicking him and grabbing a fistful of raven hair, he lifted the bloodstained face. He snorted unwillingly, as he saw that the hated creature was still alive.

“Can you not die?” he spat and carelessly dropped the elf’s head back to the ground. He stomped out of the building, only to return a few minutes later with two of his companions on his heels.

“Is he dead?” one of the men asked, looking emotionlessly at the crumbled form on the floor.

“Not yet, but I think we’ll let him drown by throwing him off the pier into the river. We’ll let the river hide the body after the water had done its’ work,” Harad chuckled and smirked evilly.

………………………………………………………………..

When Elladan returned to awareness the next time, at first he couldn’t recognize where he was. The only thing he registered was the copper taste of blood in his mouth and that it was not yet dawn. His body ached so fiercely all over that the pain overwhelmed all other senses. He inhaled deeply to clear his foggy mind, but regretted this action instantly, as his cracked ribs protested vigorously.

Now he felt that he was being dragged over a wooden surface and through thick fog he could hear the ripple of water. Too tired and in too much pain to do anything he failed to notice, that the dragging had stopped. He lay there barely conscious and aware of his surroundings.

Suddenly he felt movement again and gasped as he was tossed over the edge of the pier into cold water. The cold activated his numbed senses and in growing panic he struggled wildly against the rope binding him. Without conscious thought he mentally cried out and sent a desperate message through the bond connecting him with his brother. *Help me, Elrohir*, he cried, never aware that no sound left his mouth.

His clothes were quickly soaked through and dragged him downwards. He didn’t feel the pain anymore as the lack of oxygen lulled him into a dangerously sleepy state. Eventually he gave in to the beckoning darkness, where no pain and cold existed anymore.

*I’m sorry, brother*, was his last waking thought.

To be continued………….

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse for beta reading this story and to Selene Aduial for her constant encouragement. 

Chapter 3:

Lies, nothing but lies

When the three elves rode through the gate of Adlen, the younger twin shuddered as he felt the unfriendly gazes the two guards standing left and right of the great wooden doors sent toward them. Knowing that Elladan must have passed this town on his way home, this was as good a place as any to start the search.

The hostile atmosphere of the little town flooded like waves along the streets. Elrohir’s concerns mounted when he saw the angry glares some inhabitants fired at him with no shame. He looked at his father and saw the same disbelief on his sire’s face. Glorfindel looked unimpressed, but Elrohir clearly sensed the tension behind the cool façade.

What was the matter here? Why were the people so hostile towards elves? Was his brother’s presence here the reason? Or had he been greeted in the same unfriendly manner? Elrohir couldn’t put the puzzle together and this unnerved him greatly. He narrowed his eyes. If they had harmed his brother they would have to answer to him. He looked up, when Glorfindel closed the distance between his father and himself. “Be careful, the atmosphere is explosive,” he murmured quietly.

Suddenly a blonde man stepped into their path, forcing them to stop. “Halt!” he called. “What business do three elves have in our town?” he demanded. Quicker than a mortal eye could follow, Glorfindel dismounted and moved to stand a close step away from the unfriendly man.

“Our business is not with you unless you are the mayor of this town. Now step aside.” Man and elf glared at each other, but only for a moment. Unable to hold the elf’s gaze any longer the man stepped back.

“Thank you, very much,” Glorfindel said brightly, making Elrohir cringe. And now, if you would be so kind, please tell us where we can find the town hall.”

The man glared at the elves again, but then waved his hand. “Down the street, the big house on the square,” he hissed and walked away.

After an overdone bow Glorfindel remounted his horse. Elrond only shook his head. Elrohir had kept silent, yet his patience and endurance was on edge already. As they rode down the street, Elrohir could clearly feel the gazes on his back. What was going on here? And much more importantly, where was his brother?

The younger twin hoped to get some answers from the mayor. Reaching the central square of the town, the three elves instantly recognized the town hall. It was an imposing building with polished white steps and a beautifully carved wooden door. The building seemed much too grand for the town. All of the wealth and power seemed to be concentrated here.

After arriving at the square they dismounted and walked up the steps, only to be stopped again, this time by a uniformed guard. “Halt!” he called, “what do you want?”

Elrond quickly stepped forward and grabbed the arm of his youngest to keep his rising temper in check. Ignoring the unfriendly tone the Elf-Lord stepped in front of Elrohir and faced the guard

“We seek an audience with the mayor of this town,” he said in a controlled tone. However, before Elrond had the chance to introduce himself or say anything more, the guard shook his head.

“He’s busy and cannot be disturbed.”

Elrohir´s level of patience was now reached. He grabbed the man by the front of his tunic and pressed him against the wall. The guard’s companion, standing only a food away started to help him, but as Glorfindel stepped forward and glared at the second guard he returned to his post.

“If you want to live another second, then go and announce us!” Elrohir whispered in a calm but threatening tone.

The man paled visibly and nodded. “All right,” he said with a shaky voice and an uncertain gaze at his partner. “Follow me!”

The uniformed man opened the great wooden door and gestured the elves inside. Once inside the guard was very eager to reach his destination. All lethargy seemed to have vanished. After placing his hand on his son’s shoulder the Elf-Lord looked at his younger twin. “We are here to gather information.”

Lowering his gaze Elrohir nodded. “I’m sorry, Ada”, he whispered, knowing that his agitated outburst would not help them. After Elrond had turned, Glorfindel laid a reassuring hand on the small of Elrohir´s back. He was as taut as the youngster and could understand his anxiety. Seeing the stiff shoulders of his Lord Glorfindel knew that Elrond was as agitated as his son. Despite the hasty pace the guard was taking, the three elves kept up with the man effortlessly.

Reaching another wooden door the servant knocked urgently. After a brief moment an impatient “Enter” could be heard.

The guard opened the door and bowed to the man sitting behind a massive desk. “My Lord, these three seek an audience,” he spluttered quickly.

Glorfindel could not get rid of the feeling that the guard’s behaviour was only an act. A sturdy grey-haired man rounded the desk and looked coolly at the three elves. “Well, then come in, but be assured that I have little time.”

Elrond stepped forward and hid his annoyance behind a perfectly calm façade. “It won’t take long, depending on how cooperative you are. I am Elrond, Master of Rivendell. This is my son, Elrohir and this is Lord Glorfindel.” As Elrond motioned toward Elrohir he saw a strange expression flitter over the older man’s face, but as quick as it had appeared, it was gone. The man stroked nervously through his hair. “I’m Aduran, the mayor of this town,” he answered unwillingly.

After an awkward silence, the mayor cleared his throat.  “What business brings three elves to my town?” he finally asked.

Elrond stepped closer and looked straight into the man’s eyes. “We are looking for my son. He travelled through this town a few days ago, but since then he has vanished without a trace. Perhaps you can enlighten us about where he went or what has become of him?”

At the mention of Elladan, Elrond saw the same emotion in the man’s eyes as before, and now he was sure he had not imagined it. This man knew something about the older twin. Yet the man stepped back and spread his arms dramatically. “You must be mistaken. No elf came through our town of late.”

“This cannot be!” Elrohir said. “He must have come here. The town lies on his way home.”

Aduran sighed again. “As I said before, no elf was here. Maybe he took another route?”

Elrohir wanted to protest but Elrond laid a hand on the younger twins arm. “But, Ada….,” Elrohir began again, but the Elf-Lord shook his head and turned toward the mayor.

“Thank you for making time for us,” he said and looked sternly at Elrohir, warning him to not attack the man again.

Aduran bowed. “I don’t mind. Always glad to be at your service,” he said quickly and with such a false smile on his face it made Glorfindel cringe.

At Elrond’s gesture Glorfindel and Elrohir turned and left the room. After the servant had closed the doors the three elves went down the corridor. When they were out of earshot Glorfindel grumbled. “He lies whenever he opens his mouth.”

Elrond nodded and received an astonished look from his son. “You are right. If Elladan was here, then we must find out on our own. Aduran hides something and I’m determined to find out what it is. I’m sure he knew exactly what we spoke of.”

While heaving a relieved sigh, Elrohir murmured. “Where do we start with our search?”

Glorfindel hold up his hand. “We must be careful. They have something to hide and we have no-one to trust. Maybe Elladan had stumbled over something he should not have seen.”

Elrohir stopped suddenly, overwhelmed with worry about his brother. The cold eyes of the mayor haunted him. What if they had harmed his brother to hide something? What if…?

Sensing his son’s distress and feeling no better Elrond opened his arms and Elrohir willingly moved into his father’s embrace seeking strength from the contact. Glorfindel straightened his shoulders. “Let’s go and bring some disarray to the mayor’s plans!”

………………………………………….

Elrohir was frustrated.  He leaned against a wooden balustrade and looked at the cold water of the little river meandering through the town. Throughout the day they had searched the town, questioning every person within their reach, but to no avail. His brother had vanished and by now he wasn’t so sure, if he had ever been in the town at all.

Had his feelings betrayed him? Was Elladan already at home while they searched here for nothing? No! He clearly felt that Elladan was in danger and needed their help. Also, the feeling that they were running out of time had intensified. He could still get no connection with his brother. Sometimes he had the feeling that the thread connecting them was vanishing entirely.

All of the people he had questioned today were either afraid to answer his questions or were altogether hostile. “Afraid? What or who were they afraid of?” he thought. He sighed and turned to go towards the stables to meet with his father and Glorfindel. Maybe they had discovered something useful.

In rounding a corner, he nearly collided with an old man. He quickly muttered an apology and trudged on. Then he felt the man’s stare at his back. He turned and saw the totally stunned expression on the old man’s face. “What is it?” Elrohir asked intrigued. The old man shook his head, as if he tried to get rid of a thought which had manifested itself and refused to vanish.

“It cannot be, are you alright, lad? I thought they…” he trailed off, still staring at Elrohir.

When the meaning of the words sank in, Elrohir grabbed the man by his shirt. “What did you just say? Why should I be not alright?” he asked. The grey-haired man blinked and shuddered, but refused to look away.

“I thought they had killed you, but….” Elrohir took a deep breath. “You are speaking about my brother, aren’t you? Where is he?” When the man didn’t answer Elrohir shook him by his shoulders. “Tell me. Tell me what has happened to him!” he yelled, frustrated by not getting the proper information.

When the eyes of the old man only widened in fear and looked past him, Elrohir turned and spotted his father and Glorfindel coming toward them. “What is the meaning of this?” the Elf-Lord said in a stern voice looking alternately between his son and the old man.

“Ada,” the younger twin called back, never releasing the shirt of the man. “He knows something about Elladan. He mistook me for him.”

As the two Elf-Lords reached the couple, Elrond narrowed his eyes and looked at the old man. “Is that true? You know something about my son?”

As the man still looked confused from Elrond to Elrohir and back, Elrond’s younger son sighed. “We are twins. You certainly have seen or talked to my brother, not to me.” Slowly the man seemed to understand and nodded.

Elrond laid a reassuring hand on the shivering shoulder of the old man and tried a weak smile. “Please, don´t be afraid and tell us what you know. We don’t mean you any harm. We are only trying to find my son.”

With a side-glance at Elrohir the grey-haired man took a deep breath. “He came into our town a few days ago. I saw him only briefly, as he had some trouble with Harad.”

Glorfindel shot Elrond a meaningful look. “What kind of trouble?” the golden haired Elf-Lord inquired. “And who is Harad?”

The old man snorted. “Harad is an idiot. He accosts people, only to have some fun and your son was the welcome victim that day.”

Elrohir eyes flashed dangerously, but before he could vent his anger anew, Elrond asked, "Why does the mayor not object to such behaviour?” He was barely able to contain his anger any longer.

To his surprise the old man laughed, albeit it was a bitter laugh. “Because Harad is his son, the mayor always affects innocence. But he is as bad as his son. Besides, they didn’t want anyone discovering their dealings with the Easterlings.”

Elrond shook his head unwillingly. The men’s business was their own. He would stop all of Rivendell’s aid to the town until all of the mysteries were solved, but for now he didn’t care. The only important thing to him now was the fate of his son.

“What happened on this day?” Elrohir asked, his worry rising with every minute he listened to the man’s tale.

“I warned your brother, because Harad is not easily rejected. Then our ways parted”. The man hung his head. “Later, a friend told me that they had captured the elf and dragged him away. Since then, I haven’t seen him.”

Elrohir trembled and turned toward Glorfindel and his father. “I think we will go and have another conversation with Aduran and especially with his son.”

“Indeed”, Glorfindel answered with narrowed eyes, “and this time I will squeeze the truth out of him.” Elrond only nodded. When Elrohir went to thank the old man for his information, his head shot up at a sound he heard. He looked at Glorfindel and his father for confirmation, and then he heard it again:  a painful whinny from a nearby stable.

Elrohir paled. “Celos,” he whispered and was already on his way to the stables. Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a glance and followed the younger twin. Reaching the stable-door Elrohir ripped it open and ran along the pathway between the boxes. As the two older elves arrived at the entrance they stopped dead in their tracks. Elrond coughed at the stench that greeted him. The stable was in a pitiful state and the poor occupants didn’t look any better. The roof was leaking, the boxes were dirty and the horses were uncared for.

As Elrohir reached the end of the long and gloomy corridor he drew back a curtain that covered the last box and let out a cry, followed by a sob. His brother’s horse stood there blindfolded and with a broad leather strap bound tightly around his muzzle, digging painfully into the sensitive flesh. Thick ropes bound around all four legs immobilized him completely.

The beast’s whole body was covered with angry red welts inflicted by a whip and many other marks of a brutal treatment. The poor animal shivered and swayed unsteady on his feet. Elrohir paled at the sight. He loved horses greatly and this was beyond any comprehension. An icy hand squeezed now around his heart. His brother was here, there was now no doubt about that now. And if they could be so cruel to an animal what could they possibly have done to his brother?

With tears in his eyes Elrohir patted the long neck gently. “Shht, my friend. Hold still, I will help you,” he whispered, opening the restraints with shaking hands. Glorfindel silently helped to free the poor animal.

“Be careful,” Elrond warned also shaken by the sight, knowing how dangerous a shocked and ill-treated animal could be. Yet the horses’ frantic movements ceased instantly, because he had heard the familiar voices.

When Elrohir removed the blindfold, the horse looked at him with big sad eyes and nudged him softly with his velvety nose. Looking around for water Glorfindel bent down and inspected something lying half hidden under an old blanket. He kicked a bale of hay to the side and revealed saddlebags and a tunic. Glorfindel reached out to grab the tunic having identified it as Elladan´s. Closing his eyes briefly, he handed Elrond the garment.

Elrohir took a deep breath while offering the horse some water. Elladan had been here and they had harmed him, of that he was now sure. His worst fear crept slowly back to the forefront of his mind: that he had come too late, or that his brother was lying injured somewhere and he had not come quickly enough to help him.

“So much for Aduran or his son not seeing Elladan earlier,” Glorfindel muttered. Hot fury mingled with cold fear coursed through his veins. What had they done to the young elf?

After they had calmed the horse, they provided him with more water and some hay. Then the three elves walked again down the main street toward the town hall, their grim expressions hiding their internal concerns and worries.

Not daring to stop the three elves again, the guards permitted their entry and hastened to announce the visitors. As the double-doors opened Aduran sprung to his feet, nearly toppling over the chair, he was sitting on. “Who the hell…,” he cried at first, but stopped when he saw who was striding briskly into his study.

“Where is my brother?” Elrohir growled, stepping closer to the now retreating man, until he was just a step away.

The man paled and cleared his throat. “As I said before, I don’t know who you are talking about!”

“Is that so?” Elrohir mocked. “Then I wonder what my brother’s horse and his belongings are doing in a stable of your town, when he was never here?”

Before Aduran had a chance to answer, a side door opened and a blonde man, a younger version of Aduran, started to enter. Elrond and Glorfindel whirled around.

Realizing quickly what was going on, the newcomer turned back to retreat the way he had come, but he was not quick enough to escape Glorfindel. He blocked the man’s way, seized his arm and whirled him back around.

“Don’t be so hasty, please stay with us. We have a lot of questions. You must be Harad, I guess?” Glorfindel demanded.

Unable to shake off the elf’s deadly grip, Harad relented and glared darkly at the elves. “Release me. I have nothing to say and certainly not to you,” he spat.

Glorfindel´s limit of endurance was now reached. He grabbed the human by his tunic and pushed him back against the wall. He squeezed his hand around the man’s neck, until he saw a flash of panic in the others’ eyes.

“If I were you, I would listen very carefully, because I will ask this only once. Where is Lord Elladan? What have you done to him?” Despite the fact that the man’s feet dangled a few inches above the ground, his arrogant stare did not falter and no answer was forthcoming.

Elrohir, still holding Aduran in place saw his father stepping closer toward Glorfindel. Elrond certainly disapproved of such actions, but he was also anxious to gain an answer at last.

“Where is he?” Glorfindel shouted and this time the man winced in beginning fear.

“Let him be, the elf is dead. They killed him,” a calm and clear voice suddenly sounded from the open doorway. Elrohir, Glorfindel and Elrond whirled around facing the new stranger, clearly not yet comprehending what the man had just said. In the doorway stood a young man with a pale face and blue eyes which were staring intently at the elves.

When the words sunk in Elrond staggered back. “No!” he whispered. Glorfindel reached out to steady his friend, suddenly uninterested in the wailing man on the floor.

Elrohir looked still unbelievingly at the young man. His heart refused to accept what his mind had told him. No, this could not be. He still sensed his brother’s presence! He was not dead. In too much emotional turmoil he sank to his knees, unable to activate their bond. After regaining somewhat of his composure Elrond knelt next to his son and embraced the shivering form.

After a look toward his Lord and the younger twin, Glorfindel walked across the room toward the young man and looked at him intently. “What do you know?” he asked shaken but determined to finally find out what had happened to Elladan. The young man looked from one elf to the other not knowing who he should address. Eventually he fixed his gaze on a neutral spot and began to speak.

“Two days ago in the early morning hours, I saw Harad and two of his men dragging someone down to the river. As I sneaked closer, I realized, astonished, that it was the elf I had seen the day before and….,” he trailed off, carefully looking up into Glorfindel´s impassive face, “he was in bad shape.” The young man couldn’t stand the elf’s gaze any longer and looked down again. With his voice barely above a whisper he said: “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to help him, because they would have killed me right away, along with the elf.”

Glorfindel´s voice trembled slightly as he addressed the young man again. “What happened then?” he asked, although he could imagine the answer.

Still avoiding the elf’s piercing gaze the youngster continued. “They bound him and threw him into the water. I’m so sorry, but the water is cold and injured as he was….. Later I came back, but found nothing, of course.”

As he finished, all was deadly silent, until Elrohir sprung up and stormed with a pained scream from the room. Thanking the youngster briefly Glorfindel helped Elrond back on his feet and with a last look toward the mayor with the promise to return, they headed after Elrohir knowing exactly where he was heading.

Reaching the river, they saw the young elf kneeling in the dirt at the beach with his face in his hands weeping openly, not caring anymore who witnessed his breakdown. Elrond’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces at the sight and he quickly headed down to comfort his despairing son. He knelt down and embraced his youngest, sharing his tears. Glorfindel remained at the bridge, his heart also broken, at the sorrowful scene in front of him but tears refused to come. He still harboured some hope that the eldest twin had survived.

Unsuccessfully his eyes travelled up and down the river bank, in a hopeless attempt to find a lifeless body. The surface of the river rippled innocently, as if not knowing what tragedy had taken place a few days ago. After a few days however it would be impossible to find any trace of a body anymore. The current must have dragged him off long before. After what seemed an eternity, father and son rose and joined the blonde elf on the bridge. Not caring in the slightest for the looks and gestures directed toward them, they headed toward the stables. Their grief wrapped like a cloak around them, they readied their horses and walked toward the gate, Elladan´s horse trailing behind them.

When they had crossed the threshold Glorfindel looked back. “Justice will come upon them. That I swear. They will not get away with it.”

Elrond looked at him with red rimmed eyes, barely able to hold the younger twin upright. “And what would that achieve? As much as I would appreciate this, it will not undo what has happened and will not bring Elladan back.”

Glorfindel didn’t respond, his lips pressed into a thin line. Had Elrond already accepted what had been said? Maybe this was another lie. He knew that grief was clouding the Elf-Lord’s judgment right now. As soon as they arrived home punishment would be dealt out. Aduran would not get away with this. He would make sure of this.

They mounted their horses and rode in silence for a while. Then Elrohir suddenly stopped his horse. With his eyes nearly black he looked at his elders. “I cannot leave like this. Perhaps he was able to loosen his bonds somehow and could escape the river. What if he is lying injured somewhere and needs our help. Maybe….,” he trailed off seeing the pained look on his father’s face.

“Elrohir, please,” the Elf-Lord said with tears in his eyes, “don’t torment yourself. You know as well as I, that under these circumstances he had no chance to survive.”

“No!” Elrohir shouted. “How can you say that? Have you already accepted his death? I can still somehow sense him. He’s not dead. I will turn every stone on this dammed riverbed until I’ve found him. As long as I haven’t found his body, I will not accept his death!”

Not seeing the shock on his father’s face he wheeled his horse around to return to the river. He intended to search along the riverbank as long as necessary until he found a body or other confirmation that his brother was dead. He knew he was betraying himself. The bond with his brother was so weak already that he could barely sense him, much less make a contact, but he would not give up; he simply could not give up. As long as he sensed something he would not quit his search and he would surely not leave this town without punishing the one responsible.

To be continued…………………………

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and Selene Aduial for beta reading this story.

Chapter 4:

The stranger

Isiwen looked sceptically toward the dark clouds hovering over the river. It will not take long before a storm breaks loose; she thought and hurried on to empty the fish traps her husband had laid out the day before. While bending over the third trap she sighed. Not much this day, but better than nothing.

They led a simple life here and she never complained, but the fish traps and their little vegetable garden were sometimes the only food supply they had. Then a smile crept back on her face, when she heard her husband curse loudly. Chopping wood was not one of his favourite tasks.

Picking up her basket she whistled a merry tune, yet she stopped dead in her tracks when she rounded a boulder and saw a body lying in the shallow water. For a moment she stood frozen, fearing that the stranger was dead and, at the same time, afraid that he was not and would jump up to scare her any moment. Then she shook her head angrily.

This poor fellow did not look like he was about to get up any moment, rather he looked as if he was in dire need. Quickly she crossed the distance to the motionless form while calling over her shoulder: “Maren, Maren come quickly!”

While she discarded her basket and bent down, the sound of chopping ceased and hurried footsteps, down the gravel path, could be heard. “Isiwen, where are you? What happened?” the young man running toward her called back, worry evident in his voice.

“I’m here, come quickly,” Isiwen answered, crouching impatiently beside the motionless body.

When Maren arrived at the riverbank he stopped and stared, shocked, at the scene in front of him. There, half-hidden in the shallow water, lay the body of a stranger. The body was face down so Maren could not detect any features.

Overcoming his initial shock, he kneeled next to his wife and tried, with an intense gaze, to detect if the stranger was still alive. “Is he dead?” he asked tentatively not able to see the stranger breathe.

“I do not know,” Isiwen answered and stretched a shaky hand out to touch the body.

After a pleading look directed at her husband, Maren sighed and together they dragged the body from the water onto dryer ground. The dark-haired young man looked dreadful.

His clothes were torn in many places and the visible skin was sickly pale, yet something looked out of place. The stranger was very tall and lean and he had long black hair plastered around his head.

Carefully Maren turned the limp body onto his back and after carefully brushing the hair aside to look at the face he gasped in surprise. “He’s an elf” he stated and looked aghast at his wife. Isiwen knelt already next to the young elf and searched for a pulse.

“Yes,” she answered, “and barely alive.”

“I wonder who he is and what has happened to him,” Maren mumbled, indicating the wounds that could be seen through the ragged clothes.

“Anyway,” Isiwen stated her old confidence back, “let us bring him inside and tend to his wounds. The poor lad is ice-cold.”

Maren smiled. Isiwen had always been a caring and gentle soul. To see someone suffer was nothing she could bear.

Carefully he lifted the lithe body into his arms and turned toward the house. The poorly filled basket forgotten, Isiwen hurried after her husband.

Running past him, she opened the door to the small cottage to allow her husband to enter with his precious burden. While she was rustling about to gather the needed items, Maren lowered the cold and stiff body of the elf carefully onto the only bed in the little house and began to remove his clothing.

Isiwen hurriedly gathered her herbs and set a kettle over the fire to boil some water. When Maren removed the shirt of the stranger by cutting the remains away he gasped again.

The elf’s upper body was covered over and over with bruises and cuts. Letting out a deep breath he carefully touched along the ribs and could easily locate many cracked and a few broken ones.

He looked at his wife, as she appeared at his side with the steaming bowl and many herbs to clean the wounds. “I´m no expert, but these are no battle wounds. It looks as if someone has beaten him!”

“And then tried to kill him,” Isiwen said with sorrow in her voice indicating at the deep bleeding imprints on the elf’s wrists, inflicted from a rough rope.

Maren shuddered. He had met elves only on a few occasions. His cousin was a ranger and they often met with the firstborn. A year ago he was present at such a meeting and remembered clearly his awe when he had looked at them; strong and wise, but also gentle and caring. He had always felt uncomfortable around these ancient beings and now he had one in his house.

With a sigh he began cleaning and binding the wounds. It proved to be a tedious task, because every cut looked infected but at least had stopped bleeding. Maren doubted that much blood was left in his pitiful looking body.

A chill ran down his spine as he felt the much-too-low body temperature. He was by no means a healer, and he knew nothing about the healthy state of an elf, but this didn’t look or feel healthy at all.

The shallow breathing and the frantic pulse indicated clearly the bad condition the elf was in. And if he thought he had by now seen all that had been done to the elf, he shook his head again, when he removed the torn leggings. Both legs were broken and in dire need of setting.

Now he was at a loss. He had absolutely no idea how to do this. Certainly he would do more wrong than right. But what option was left to him? After taking a deep breath and receiving a reassuring nod from his beloved he took up an herb-drenched towel and carefully cleaned the dirt from the breaks.

This took him nearly half an hour and he was drenched in sweat when he finished. Already he dreaded the next step. With utmost care he laid his hands on the left and right of the broken bone and quickly straightened the leg to align the bones.

Isiwen quickly placed two wooden sticks next to the break and bound them tightly to keep the leg immobile. They repeated the process on the other leg.

Not knowing if he had done anything right Maren´s hands began to tremble. He shuddered inwardly as he imagined the pain he was causing. Now he was very grateful that the elf was unconscious. He did not know how much time had passed until all wounds were cleaned, the cuts closed and the bones hopefully rightly set.

What frightened him most was the total lack of response from the still body. No moan, no jerking away, no other sign of life. With shaking hands and weary to the bone, Maren leaned back in the chair all the while looking at the dark-haired being.

Who could he be? He studied the bruised face. How old may he be? He shook his head, it was impossible to guess.

He tucked an extra blanket around the pale body, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His wife had fallen asleep an hour before at the kitchen table.

When he woke up again he blinked in surprise when he registered it was already morning. He had only closed his eyes for a moment. Guiltily he looked at their guest and recognized, relieved, that the elf was still breathing.

Wincing while he tried to sit up straight he heard the soft rustling of his wife making breakfast. Isiwen stepped behind him, planted a kiss on the top of his head and massaged his stiff shoulders. “Good morning, love. Have you slept well?” she asked teasingly.

When Maren only groaned she smiled. “I have already changed his bandages and while doing this I discovered a big bump on his head.” Maren nodded. “No wonder he is unconscious. I hope it’s not a serious head injury, because the limits of my healing art are widely overstepped by now.”

Isiwen smiled again. “You have done well. If he survives, he owes you his life.” Maren nodded, shocked by the mere thought. He must survive. He had to. Elves were not supposed to die.

He stood and stretched his muscles and gratefully received the cup of steaming hot tea Isiwen offered him. Again he looked at the elf. “I only wish we could do more for him.”

Isiwen nodded. “He looks so young and certainly someone is missing him,” she said stroking the pale cheek.

Maren laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Now we can only rely on his will to live. I have heard elves have amazing healing abilities.”

Isiwen nodded. “Yes, hopefully he is not too far gone already.”

……………………………………

Over the following days nothing changed. Isiwen and Maren continued to change the bandages and tried to feed their patient some broth, but the elf remained unconscious and unresponsive.

Almost every wound refused to heal properly. The couple was at a loss. What was wrong? Why could they not detect any improvement? On the contrary, the elf’s condition grew worse with every passing day. He had lost much weight and his skin looked almost transparent.

“We must do something, or I fear we will lose him,” Isiwen stated with tears in her eyes and nearly frantic with fear. Maren nodded equally frustrated over his inability to help.

“You are right. I will try to reach a ranger’s camp. They will know what to do.”

Torn between the wish to help the elf and worry for her husband Isiwen breathed heavily. Yes, the rangers would know what to do, or could contact one of the firstborn. Knowing that this was the best course of action she nodded.

“Be careful and make haste”, she whispered while helping her husband to get his belongings, and ready his horse for the journey. She was less than happy to be alone with their patient, but there was no other choice.

As Maren mounted their sturdy horse and waved goodbye, Isiwen knew that it was at least a two days ride to the next ranger station. Calling for help and the ride back, she would be at least five days alone with the stranger.

Inwardly she hoped that he would not awake. Then she shook her head. If he would wake she could ask the questions so long delayed. Maybe she could do so much more then.

Winding her shawl tighter around her she returned to the little hut and closed the door firmly against the chill wind suddenly coming down from the mountains.

Adding a few logs to the low burning fire she sat again next to bed, but the stranger looked the same as ever; pale and unresponsive, unmoving and unconscious.

“Please hold on lad, do not die on me. Help is on the way,” she whispered more to still her agitated nerves than to her patient.

To be continued………

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 5:

Despair and a bit of hope

Elrond sighed when he looked at the pale face of his younger twin sitting forlornly on a stone bench in the garden. Once it had been one of the twins’ favourite places while thinking and talking, but now it was only a cruel reminder of the empty place beside him.

For three weeks now, he had tried to find any sign of his missing brother. He had spent countless days of searching but never finding; countless days of hoping, only to have those hopes crushed mercilessly again and again.

Last week he had searched alone, abandoned in his misery. He hadn’t started out alone, of course. At the start, the search parties had included many of the inhabitants of Imladris, along with a small group of their friends.

Even Elrond had ridden out with the search parties in the hope that his presence could help them achieve something and that he would be able to channel some of the sorrow which was choking him into something more constructive.  But even his presence was to no avail.

But since those first searches, many had given up and returned to their day-to day lives. Not so with Elrohir. He could not quit. There was no day-to day life without his brother and so he continued to search. But the bitter truth could not be denied any longer.

Elladan had vanished.  Each day the remaining hope had dwindled and both the father and the son had slowly but surely succumbed to grief. Elrohir was no longer sure if the weak connection he still felt was real or imaginary, conjured up by wishful thinking.

The Elf-Lord knew and feared the condition Elrohir was slipping into. The younger twin had begun to fade and nothing, including his own healing skills or his steadfast love for his child, could do anything to stop this process. If they did not find Elladan any time soon, Elrohir would die and never know what fate had befallen his brother.

Elrond sighed again. He had failed to save his oldest, and now it seemed that he was powerless to save his younger son also. In fact, he barely had the strength to hold himself upright. This uncertainty grated on his nerves. Never knowing what happened to your child would drive you mad sooner or later.

Elrohir had lost hope, but Elrond could not. He clung to this hope as if it was his lifeline, but his mind had already accepted what his heart could not.

He sat down beside his son, but the offered comfort didn’t reach his distressed child. Nonetheless he wrapped an arm around the slim shoulders and drew the younger twin to his chest. Elrohir didn’t react; he looked ahead with unseeing eyes.

……………………………………………..

After several days of travelling, Maren finally reached the camp of the rangers. His mare nearly stumbled into the clearing from exhaustion. His condition was not much better. He could barely hold himself upright in his saddle, but he could not give in, not yet, now that he had reached his goal.

He awkwardly dismounted and noticed the commotion his sudden appearance had caused. To his great relief he spotted his cousin Dargost running toward him.

When the ranger had reached the farmer, he stretched out his hand to steady the swaying figure. “Valar´s sake, Maren, what has happened to you, you look terrible.” Surrounded now by many intrigued faces Maren tried to catch his breath, forced a smile on his tired face and returned the forceful hug his cousin was crushing him into.

“Well met, Dargost. Don’t worry, I´m only tired. But I have a very important message for you…..”

Dargost released the slightly smaller man and looked him up and down with open worry. “I think this can wait, until you have rested a bit….”

Seeing the protest in Maren´s eyes, as well as the total exhaustion of the young man Dargost held up his hand to forestall any further discussion.

“Nothing can be so urgent it cannot wait a few moments more. Come.” he demanded, and steered his cousin toward the campfire. Knowing that he would reach his goal quicker by complying Maren sat down and gratefully accepted a mug of hot tea and some bread and dried meat that was pressed into his other hand.

To satisfy the stern looks from the rangers who had settled around him he complied again and took a careful sip and a heartfelt bite. From the corner of his eye he saw that someone was taking care of his horse for which he was grateful.

“Better,” Dargost grumbled as he sat across from the young farmer. “Alright, now tell me. What is so urgent that you nearly killed your horse and yourself?”

Redirecting his gaze at the ranger and finally having the needed attention, Maren sighed, suddenly not knowing how to start. Never one for long words and hoping that the news of the elf´s disappearance had reached the rangers by now, he decided on a blunt question. “Is your troop searching for someone?”

Dargost narrowed his eyes. For many days they had searched for the eldest son of Lord Elrond and had nearly lost hope. But how could his cousin know of this?

Deciding to be honest about the issue, Dargost took a deep breath. “We have been searching for Lord Elrond´s son Elladan for nearly three weeks,” he answered while intently searching the face of his cousin and was surprised to see the tired face of the young farmer light up after a moment’s contemplation.

With shaking hands, when he realized who they had cared for these last few weeks Maren gripped his cousin’s hand. “Assuming that we speak about the same elf, then you can quit your search. Isiwen and I have found him or, better said, he has found us.”

Now it was Dargost who looked bewildered. When the murmurs of his fellow rangers had died down somewhat he looked up.

“And he’s alive?” he nearly whispered with new hope in his heart.

Maren´s enthusiastic expression sobered quickly and Dargost´s heart sunk again. “That’s the reason for my haste. He was alive when we found him, albeit barely, but now he’s dying.”

……………………………………………..

A few days later Glorfindel looked at the dark clouds hovering over the Bruinen with a frown. He sighed. The weather was as depressing as the mood of Imladris´ inhabitants. Nature seemed to somehow reflect the despair that the elves felt in the once happy valley.

His heart ached, as did that of his Lord and friend, but he could not change what had happened either. The twins were as dear to him as if they were his own sons. He loved them, had taught them all he knew about history, battle arts and other important matters of life. He had laughed with them, cried with them and he had helped to hide many secrets they did not want their father to know.

He had not lost hope yet, but every day he came closer to it, receiving only negative reports from the still searching patrols and rangers.

Elrohir would fade and Elrond would leave for Valinor. All the power he possessed could not stop this family falling apart. He took a shuddering breath, when he thought about the last weeks of searching.

They had followed every lead they could find, had asked countless people, elves and men alike. They had turned nearly every stone at the rivers edge, but for naught.

They had found nothing...no sign, no word, no clue.

He shook his head unwillingly. It was not his way to give up so easily, but right now he was at a loss, he did not know how to go on.

Still lost in his thoughts he looked up when he heard hoof beats in the courtyard.

Narrowing his eyes, he blinked in surprise when he saw a ranger named Dargost coming straight for him, waving. Dargost was a level-headed man, reliable and a well-liked guest at the Last Homely House. Never had Glorfindel seen him so agitated.

Only a few steps before the golden warrior, the man jerked his breathless mount to a stop and dismounted quickly.

“Mae Govannen, Lord Glorfindel,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I must speak with Lord Elrond!”

Glorfindel looked at the ranger thinking.  Surely Dargost knew the state Elrond was in and he would not dare to bother him with something unimportant?

“I think we should not….” Glorfindel began, but was interrupted rather vehemently by a hand’s wave of a very impatient looking man. Only long years of trust and understanding let the man speak thus to the high Lord in front of him.

“Please forgive me, my Lord, but I think we should.” Not able now to restrict his emotions any longer Dargost added quickly:

“We have found Elladan!”

Glorfindel thought that the air had suddenly changed into something solid and unmoving. He stared at the ranger, momentarily not comprehending what he had heard. He had so desperately wished to hear these very words. Could it be true? Taking a deep breath, he briefly closed his eyes.

When he had regained his composure, Glorfindel lifted his head and looked into the ranger´s grey eyes. “Is he alive?” he asked with an unsteady voice.

The ranger’s face sobered. “He’s badly wounded, but yes, he’s alive.”

Glorfindel sighed. All the accumulated tension of the past weeks left him. Still looking intently at the ranger, he let a tiny smile creep onto his lips.

“Thank you for bringing this good news so quickly, but I think I should break the news. Will you wait until I call for you?”

The ranger smiled. “Of course, my Lord. I need a break anyway.”

Glorfindel nodded and headed toward the house to find Elrond.

…………………………………….

Elrond sat at his desk, not really seeing the papers in front of him. He tried to distract himself with work, as always, when he was worried, and it didn’t work, as always.

An hour ago, he had looked in at Elrohir who was lying unresponsive in his bed, the body still and the soul slowly fleeing from a life he could not bear.

He looked up unwillingly, when he heard a knock on his door. Could they not leave him alone? Could they not grant him a minute to himself?

In his desperate state he didn’t realize how ridiculous his thoughts were. For days he had spoken to no one, had hid himself in his study. No-one had dared to approach him.

Silently the door opened and Glorfindel slipped inside.

The Elf-Lord regretted his thoughts already, when he looked in his friends pale face, but something was in these intense blue eyes, that he could not identify.

Slowly Elrond rose behind his desk dreading Glorfindel´s next words. They looked at each other for a moment, until Glorfindel broke the silence.

“Elrond, Dargost one of the rangers in the search parties arrived a few minutes ago and he brought good news. They have found Elladan and he’s alive!”

Elrond stared at Glorfindel the same way the golden haired elf had at the ranger before. Disbelief and overwhelming joy played on the Elf-Lord’s face. As the Elf-Lord faltered, Glorfindel quickly moved forward to steady his friend.

“Is it really true?” Elrond whispered.

“Yes it is”, Glorfindel smiled and released slowly his hold, “but we should ask Dargost. I barely have more information”.

Elrond could only nod, his throat constricted by his overwhelming emotions.

………………………………………………

Dargost inclined his head toward the dark-haired Elf-Lord, after Elrond had bid him to report. He was a bit nervous, knowing what grief had befallen this family after the disappearance of the young elf.

“Several days ago my cousin Maren arrived at our camp and reported, that he and his wife had found an unconscious and badly wounded elf at the riverbank near their cottage. They have taken care of him, but weren’t able to improve his condition, so they decided to contact us.”

“The whole camp was in an uproar, when we realized it could only be Elladan, for whom we had searched for so long. I travelled back with my cousin, to make sure, that it was really your son. Afterward I came here right away.”

When the ranger had finished Elrond swallowed, trying to sort out all the information. If Elladan had been unconscious this long then his condition must be very bad. But this was not a surprise to him, seeing the state Elrohir was in. The important thing right now was only that Elladan was alive.

“How badly is he injured?” Elrond asked the most urgent question in a now controlled tone.

The ranger sighed. “I have only briefly looked at him, but Isiwen, my cousin’s wife told me, that his injuries were severe and he has not woken since they found him.”

Exchanging a quick glance with Glorfindel, Elrond nodded, already running a list in his head of the supplies he would need.

He addressed the ranger again. “Would you show us the way to your cousin’s cottage?”

“Of course, my Lord, that is what I’m here for,” he answered, with a forced smile. The young elf was not home yet and there were many things that could still go wrong.

Elrond nodded again in gratitude and squeezed the ranger’s hand firmly. “Thank you so much.”

“It was a pleasure for me to bring this good news,” Dargost smiled and returned the firm squeeze of the hand.

Struggling to hold his emotions in check, Elrond bowed and lowered his eyes, to regain his composure. After a few minutes he looked up again.

“I will make a few preparations, and then we will leave early in the morning.”

Knowing that he was dismissed, Dargost bowed and left.

“And I will come with you,” Glorfindel said, and left quickly following the ranger, to forestall all protests from Elrond.

“Very well,” Elrond murmured with a tiny smile, he had expected nothing else and then he left his study.

He walked directly to his sons’ shared room and slipped silently inside. He sat on the bed’s edge and looked at the pale and unmoving figure of his youngest.

He planted a kiss on the forehead and sighed relieved when he felt a slight stirring. Elrohir was not yet too far gone to be called back.

“I will be back soon, my son, hopefully with your brother,” Elrond whispered, placing an extra blanket over the prone form and leaving as quietly as he had come.

To be continued………

 Happy New Year to you all

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 6: 

Anxiety

Isiwen nearly dropped the plate she was carrying, when she heard a low moan. Quickly setting it down on a shelf, she then wiped her hands on her apron, turned and strode through the little room to the alcove containing the only bed. Carefully she sat on the edge of the mattress and took a slender hand between her own, rubbing the back of it gently.

“Wake up, Master elf. Don’t be afraid. You are safe here,” she said softly. As another low moan could be heard, she repeated her low, spoken request while searching the pale face intently and at last, to her joy and surprise, the dark-haired elf slowly opened his eyes. What she had long hoped for she dreaded now. What should she say? How would he react to her, to his surroundings?

All anxiety, however, was gone as the eyes regarded her. Instantly she was taken aback by these intense eyes, albeit she winced in sympathy, seeing the pain and confusion that clouded the gaze. Instantly she was lost in those eyes. Never before had she seen such a gaze.

When the elf croaked something, she didn’t understand. She quickly poured a glass of water and held the cup carefully to the dry lips. Lines of pain crossed the fair features, as she lifted his head a few inches, to aid the swallowing.

With a sigh the elf sank back, but his gaze cleared somewhat. Again Isiwen was overwhelmed by these eyes. Letting his eyes wander over the unfamiliar surroundings the elf´s gaze settled on her again.

“What happened?” he finally managed to say. Only slowly the young woman realized that the elf had now spoken in her language, which came as another surprise to her.

Despite her curiosity and a little fear Isiwen smiled. “I don´t know what happened to you, but my husband and I found you down by the riverside nearly dead. You are in our cottage now. I’m Isiwen.”

The elf listened to the words, but Isiwen had the vague feeling that he did not fully comprehend what she had said. Vague and most disturbing images were swirling through his mind about floating in numbing cold water with bound hands and feet; desperately struggling and fighting against the current.

He recalled immense pain in his lungs as the lack of oxygen had forced him to struggle even harder to return to the surface of the water. He also remembered overwhelming panic at the sensation of drowning.

He dimly remembered the sharp rocks he was tossed against, but they had at last worked to his advantage by somehow cutting his bonds so that he was able to surface and take another desperately needed breath of air.

“Thank you,” he answered finally. “I’m Elladan.”

Isiwen inclined her head. “You are welcome, Elladan. I’m glad that you finally awoke.” The elf nodded, too exhausted to uphold the conversation any longer. Isiwen tugged the blanket around the slim shoulders. “Sleep, and the next time you awaken you will feel better.”

She sat there until the elf had closed his eyes and the even breathing told her that he had fallen asleep, and then sat there a bit longer contemplating the brief conversation. She had never before seen an elf much less spoken with one and was again deeply touched by this fascinating race.

She thought about eyes in which you could get lost, a melodious voice, and the ever-present touch of melancholy.  All of these things touched at her heart. Shaking her head to get rid of this drunken-like state she rose casting a last glance at the elf to make sure he was still comfortable and asleep.

Silently she did her housework not willing to disturb her sleeping guest. Already she dreaded the dawn-hour when it was time to change the bandages. She feared that there would be no improvement again.

Many times she looked out the window of the little hut hoping to see her husband return with help, but every time the silence of the wood surrounding the house greeted her.

Despite the promising moment that morning, the elf grew restless again. He moaned and thrashed in his sleep. Quickly she sat on the bed again and tried to catch the flailing limbs and sooth the agitated elf with whispered words of reassurance, but to no avail this time. He obvisiously battled against unseen foes and haunting memories she had no chance to chase away.

Isiwen’s worry mounted again. These movements would not help to improve the elf´s condition, but she had not the heart to restrain the fragile looking body too hard. With gentle hands she gripped his wrists and spoke soothing words again hoping to reach the dark place the elf was trapped in.

After her patient had stilled somewhat and seemed to have settled a bit, Isiwen took care of the wounds again and shuddered when she saw there was again no improvement. All of the cuts and scratches were still red and looked angry. ‘This should not be’, she thought. ‘Even a human would have shown some healing by now.’

Surely she was doing something wrong. Now she regretted her slim-to-none knowledge about the race of the firstborn. Did they not have miracle healing abilities? Or was this a fairy tale, like so many others?

She sighed, frustrated at being so helpless. Something was not right. That night she really feared for the elf’s life, because his fever rose to incredible heights and he lost consciousness again.

Tired and desperate beyond measures she pleaded: “Maren, please hurry. I cannot bear to see him suffer any longer.”

……………………………………………….

Many miles away Elrond, Glorfindel, the Ranger Dargost and ten of Imladris’ Guards urged their horses forward, in a hurry to reach their destination in time. For hours they had been riding without rest, the landscape flowing by. Dargost desperately tried to keep pace with the elves and their swift mounts.

He had not complained until now, but he knew that he could not keep up with this pace any longer. His horse would stumble and break a leg or he would be smashed against the next branch, so weary he was by now.

When the golden-haired Elf riding in front of him finally called a halt at nightfall, an audible sigh could be heard from the human. He could not have gone one mile further.

Not aware of the human´s predicament, Elrond started to protest. With a quick look at the ranger, Glorfindel brought his steed alongside that of his Lord and touched his forearm lightly bringing the dark-haired elf and his mount to a complete halt.

“Elrond, we must take a break. It serves no-one, if we stumble into an abyss at night in these mountains, and the horses are exhausted too. Let us rest until dawn and then continue.”

Only now the dark-haired Elf-Lord registered the tired features of the man and the lowered heads of their mounts. With a guilty look toward the ranger, who was clinging with shaking hands to his horse´s mane and an apologetic pat to the neck of his panting and tired horse, the Elf-Lord nodded reluctantly.

“I’m sorry. You are right, my friend.” Seeing the trembling of the ranger’s frame his guilt mounted. Laying a comforting hand on the rangers shoulder he tried to smile. “I´m sorry my friend, but…..”

Breathing deeply the ranger waved the apology away. “I’m the one who is sorry for slowing you down.”

“Never mind,” Elrond smiled. “We will rest until dawn.”

Glorfindel heaved a great sigh of relief, as did his warriors. He was as eager as Elrond to reach their goal, but he was also responsible for their safety; and racing along a mountain pass on a moonless night was not something he would allow, regardless of the reason.

Like his Lord, he was grieved that they could not reach their destination faster.  He let his warriors set up camp and assigned the watch.  Although he did not “order” everyone to rest, all those who were not otherwise assigned began to unroll their bedrolls and rest for the night.

Elrond was too restless to sleep.  After many fruitless attempts to coax his friend at least to lie down and rest, if not sleep, Glorfindel sighed and lay down himself, knowing he would not be able to find rest this night either.

At first dawn the golden warrior awoke from a restless sleep and looked around, surprised that sleep had at last claimed him. After they had all had a chance to break their fast he looked around and sighed when he spotted his friend impatiently waiting for them to depart.

Elrond had, of course, not slept a minute and Glorfindel felt a pang of guilt. Was he not also anxious to finally find out if Elladan was still with them?

No! He was as agitated and excited as Elrond but he must also consider the lives entrusted to him, including the Elf-Lord himself. If they met trouble on the way he would be rested and ready.

All these thoughts however left his mind when Elrond looked at him impatiently; his eyes were pleading and his body was as taut as a bowstring. Knowing that nothing could delay the Elf-Lord any longer, Glorfindel gave the signal to depart.

No sooner than the golden warrior had announced their departure, Elrond jumped on his horse to resume the dead race toward their destination with the hope in his heart that his worst fears would not be realized. Dreadful images had crossed his mind throughout the night and they had all ended in the same way. He would come too late...too late to save his sons.

 To be continued……………..

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 7:

Hope and sorrow

After hours of hard riding the cottage of his cousin finally came into view just as the first rays of the sun crept over the mountains. Dargost, riding at the front of the small group, let out a sigh of relief at the welcome sight. He was bone-weary, shaking almost as badly as the previous day from the exertion, but grateful nonetheless that they had arrived at their destination.

Now the uncertainties and many questions would be answered. Looking toward the Elf-Lords while dismounting he could sense that they were ready to burst from anxiety now that they had reached their goal.

Before he had the chance to say something, the door of the little cottage flew open and Maren ran toward him, immense relief on his face. Maren had returned the night before from the ranger’s camp and had been anxiously awaiting their arrival since then.

After greeting Dargost, Maren looked nervously toward the elves standing in his little courtyard. He hadn’t dealt with elves before, and certainly not with so many. Nonetheless he forced an uncertain smile on his lips. “Welcome to my humble home. I’m very glad you are here. I’m Maren,” he said and bowed before the Elf-Lords and guards cringing inwardly at the nervousness colouring his voice.

Easily sensing the uncertainty Elrond smiled back while inclining his head. “Thank you for your friendly welcome. My name is Elrond and this is Lord Glorfindel.”

Acknowledging the golden-haired elf and the guards in the background the young farmer nodded back. “You are very welcome,” he said a little calmer now, “please come inside, our time is running short.”

Maren took a step back and swallowed, seeing the intense emotion of worry and concern that crossed the hark-haired elf’s face, but as quickly as the emotions had showed they vanished under a mask of indifference. After lowering his eyes at the piercing gaze Maren carefully raised his head, afraid that he had offended his guests in some way.

After another swallow he noticed that Lord Elrond exchanged a quick look with the golden-haired Elf and said something to him he couldn’t understand. Not knowing how to ease the built-up tension and before the situation could get any more awkward the door of the little house opened again and a young woman appeared at the doorframe.

Relieved that the immediate attention was drawn from him Maren sighed and turned; grateful for his wife’s appearance. “This is my wife Isiwen,” he explained quickly and the young woman bowed after she had reached her husband’s side. “Welcome my Lords”, she said not intimidated by the many gathered elves, “but can we skip the pleasantries? I think we should hurry. The lad does not look good.”

Despite his worry and concern Elrond could not help but smile over the word “lad”. Elladan, if it really was Elladan, was certainly three times older than all of the humans combined in this house. Nonetheless he liked the young woman from the beginning. After Glorfindel had signalled the guards to wait and settle down; the Elf-Lords followed the couple when they turned toward the house. Entering the house Elrond hesitated on the threshold.

“What is it?” Glorfindel whispered, not expecting the sudden stop and nearly bumping into his friend. Elrond sighed. “What if it is not Elladan, what if….?” he trailed off. He felt suddenly too uncertain to proceed. Maren and Isiwen had vanished already into the little hut not hearing the whispered exchange.

Glorfindel smiled inwardly and squeezed his friend’s shoulder lightly. “Well, you will never find out by standing here.”

Nodding and scolding himself for acting foolish, Elrond took a deep breath and quickly crossed the threshold. For many days now he had wished for nothing more than to reach this place and now he was hesitating to take the final steps.

Once inside the one- room house, he let out a gasp when he saw the pale figure on the only bed and realized that it was indeed Elladan. All of his hopes had been fulfilled but also his worst fears. The young woman had not exaggerated with her announcement. Elladan’s appearance looked awful.

Overcoming his shock, Elrond quickly crossed the room and sat carefully on the edge of the mattress, Glorfindel stepping up to stand at the headboard. The human couple quickly cleared the little space knowing that they could not help anyway. Nonetheless they hovered nearby in case something would be required from them.

Elrond’s worry rose, when he saw the closed eyes in his son’s much too pale face. Elladan didn’t recognise their presence at all. The healer reached out to touch the young elf’s forehead, but again hesitated briefly, fearful that the scene in front of him would vanish and he would wake from a dream.

When he finally touched the hot skin, he felt the presence of the younger elf, albeit his life energy was pulsing weakly and his bond to the living world was strangely disturbed. Knowing what his son needed the most, the Elf-Lord closed his eyes and poured as much healing energy as possible into the weak body.

Isiwen and Maren, standing at the bed´s edge watched in awed silence. Never before had they seen something similar. The young woman took a fearful step back, nearly bumping into her husband standing right behind her, as the natural glow of the elder elf grew brighter and intensified until a radius of light surrounded both father and son.

Glorfindel having seen this many times before quickly stepped forward and laid a reassuring hand on Isiwen´s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid”, he said softly, not to disturb his friend, “it’s all right.”

Not really convinced, but nonetheless overwhelmed by the display of elven power, Isiwen nodded and watched enraptured.

Elrond faintly recognized Glorfindel´s words and shuddered inwardly. Nothing was under control. The state of his son was deteriorating with every passing minute. For long moments the Elf-Lord tried to locate the true core of the problem, obviously not only caused by the severe, but not life-threatening wounds.

When Glorfindel saw the shivers that ran through the dark haired elf’s body, he instantly realized that something was amiss. He crossed the room and laid a steady hand on Elrond’s shoulder to offer comfort and strength.

After endless minutes the tension in the room had reached a peak. After some time Isiwen had to close her eyes, assaulted by the ever intensifying brightness. A moan from the young elf exploded into the silence.

When Isiwen looked again toward the bed, the light around the two dark-haired elves had diminished somewhat, and she could see how the younger one struggled to open his eyes.

When he had managed this task with great effort, he blinked, obliviously not in the slightest bothered by the still bright light the other elf emanated and looked confused at the very familiar figure, looking down at him.

“Ada?” Elladan whispered.

When the glow was reduced to the natural light, the Elf-Lord smiled. “Yes, it’s me, Elladan”, he said and touched the pale cheek lightly.

Before the young elf could say anymore, Elrond laid a finger lightly over the older twin’s lips. “Shht don’t speak. Rest now and regain your strength.”

To weak to respond, Elladan closed his eyes and was asleep instantly. With a last look at his sleeping child, Elrond rose and swayed, steadied only by Glorfindel´s quickly extended hand. With a thankful smile toward his long-time friend, he turned and addressed his silently listening audience.

“Isiwen, Maren, thank you for taking care of him and keeping him alive so far. I’m deeply in your debt.”

Isiwen blushed lightly and Maren shook his head sadly. “No, my Lord, it was an honour and a matter of doing what was right for us. But obviously we couldn’t help much.”

Drained from the healing touch the Elf-Lord sighed and shook his head. “It is not your fault that his condition is so bad. You had absolutely no power to do anything against it.”

Isiwen’s head shot up and she looked confused towards the dark-haired elf. “What do you mean? To tend to his wounds and care for him was not enough?” she asked fearfully, hoping that she had not overlooked something.

Sensing that Elrond needed a brief respite to regain his strength, Glorfindel stepped forward and took up the explanation. “The life of an elf depends on the wholeness of body and soul. Both are in a sensitive balance. If something disturbs this balance then the elf’s life is at stake. An Elf can die from severe wounds as well as from grief.”

Not relieved in the slightest the couple nodded nonetheless. “Will he recover?” Maren asked with a hushed voice. To ease the tension somewhat Elrond tried a small smile. “There’s a long way ahead of him, but yes, I think he will recover.”

When Elrond turned to return to his son’s bedside, Glorfindel caught a glimpse of his friend’s face and knew that the words he had just uttered had only been spoken to set the humans’ minds at ease. Elrond was far from believing that Elladan would recover.

Maren followed the Elf-Lord and sat quietly beside him. “Can we do naught for him?” he asked silently.

Elrond looked at him thankfully, despite the helpless offer. “No, here I have neither the right supplies, nor is he in his familiar surroundings. Nonetheless, I fear that I must stretch your hospitality for a bit longer. Elladan won’t be able to travel for the next two days and we will have to make some preparations.”

Maren inclined his head. “Stay as long as necessary. It would be an honour to us,” he said, relieved that he could offer some sort of help at least. Elrond nodded gratefully. “Thank you very much. I will not forget this.”

In the meantime Glorfindel had left the house and advised the guards to make camp nearby, after he had answered many anxious questions concerning Elladan.

After thanking Dargost, the ranger bid his cousin and the others goodbye and left before nightfall. He was eager to return to the rangers to deliver the good news that their search could be stopped.

……………………………………………………………….

Erestor jerked from his slumber, when he heard a painful moan from the young elf lying in the bed beside him. He leaned over the younger twin and renewed the damp cloth he had placed on the elf’s forehead.

Then, pushing a strand of wayward hair out of Elrohir’s face, he caressed the pale cheek gently.

“Shht, young one, hold on. Your father will find and help your brother. Hold on just a little while longer.” The soft spoken words calmed the younger twin somewhat, although his restlessness, obvious distress, and even pain remained.

Erestor felt utterly helpless. The only thing he could do was sit here idly and wait - wait to see if Elrond was able to rescue Elladan and with him Elrohir, or wait until the younger twin slipped past their ability to call him back. Elrohir had cut his connection with the outer world by now. He could only hope that the words he spoke just now were the truth.

He leaned back with a desperate sigh and hit the armrest of the chair rather angrily with his fist. Why was this family so plagued with sorrow? After Celebrian´s departure, Erestor had doubted that Elrond would ever overcome his grief.

After many sorrow filled years it had happened, but the only reason that Elrond was still living in Imladris was his children. Erestor shuddered as he tried to imagine, what would happen to the Elf-Lord, if he had to watch his sons die.

One thing was clear. If Elladan died, Elrohir would follow him soon and no power on Arda could prevent this. All the power the Elf-Lord possessed was nothing in the face of fate.

Erestor sent a fevered prayer to every Valar listening, asking that Elrond be successful, and that the twins could be reunited soon.

 To be continued…….

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 8:   

Going in cycles

Over the following two days, the wounds Elladan had sustained, barely healed despite the proper treatment his father provided. The dark-haired Elf-Lord was puzzled and so engrossed in his worry, that he didn’t waste a second to think of any other reasons that might be responsible for the older twin’s poor healing progress.

Uncounted times the Elf-Lord had cleaned and bound the numerous bruises and cuts on the younger elf’s upper body and taken care of the difficult breaks, but even the healing plant Athelas seemed ineffective.

Elladan was always semi-conscious at best, barely acknowledging anyone. Pain wracked his body every time he was awake. Elrond almost feared to drug his son further and he felt that putting Elladan into a healing trance might mean his son would never reawaken. He was on the edge of desperation.

The worst thing for him was to see one of his children suffer. All his illusions, that all would be well when he had found his son, had disappeared like mist in the morning sun. He didn’t know what state was worse. Not to know what had happened to his child, or sitting before him and being unable to help.

He sighed. His thoughts were going in circles. He had overlooked something important, something that he knew was simple and obvious, but his tired mind could not come up with the solution.

The Elf-Lord leaned wearily against the doorframe and looked unfocused into the distance, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned towards the worried face of Glorfindel. “I don’t know why I’m not able to help him. His physical state isn’t that bad and yet with every passing hour he is slipping farther away.”

Glorfindel squeezed his friend’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes, when he realized that Elrond was trapped in his reeling mind. “Perhaps it isn’t his physical state that prevents his recovery?” he asked in a low voice.

Elrond head jerked up. “Elrohir!” he breathed. “Elladan has lost his connection with him. He cannot reach him. That’s the reason why he is fading. Elrohir has shut down!”

This was, of course, nothing new. Elrond knew that the connection between his sons was disturbed, but he had only just now realized that it was far worse than he had thought. Elrohir must have cut the bond completely when he began to fade and thought his brother dead, and therefore Elladan could not sense his brother any more. And that was the paradox of the situation:  Elrohir was fading because he thought his brother dead; and Elladan could not recover because he got no response from Elrohir.

Glorfindel nodded, hoping that they had reached the right conclusion. “Then I think there is only one option left for us. We must hurry and bring them together”, Glorfindel answered knowing that they would face the same problem as two days before. Elladan´s condition had not really improved.

As if reading his thoughts, Elrond answered his face sobering. “There is no possibility to move Elladan on horseback.” The worry for his sons still clouding his sharp mind Elrond looked helplessly at his friend.

Now it was Glorfindel who showed the ghost of a smile. “Then I will send the guards home to fetch a wagon. I’ve made preparations already.”

Smiling gratefully, Elrond nodded, thanking his friend silently. “Yes, this could work. But we must be quick for I fear we have not much time left.”

Confident that he could leave the preparations to Glorfindel, Elrond went back into the house and recognized with guilt the sleeping young woman on the sofa, bereft of her own bed for over three weeks now. He spread a blanket over her slender body and stirred the dying fire to new life, sitting before the hearth on a low stool.

Lost in his thoughts he jerked his head up, when he felt he was being watched. Seeing Isiwen still asleep he turned his head and to his great surprise saw Elladan awake, looking at him.

Quickly the Elf-Lord rose, walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. Gently he took a pale hand into his and gazed intently into his son’s face. With joy he realized that his son’s eyes didn’t look so glazed this day, but seeing the pale and hollow cheeks, he was still greatly concerned. “How do you feel, my son?” he asked.

“Not good,” was the whispered response and that statement shocked the healer more than the unhealthy appearance of his son did. Elladan never willingly admitted how he felt or that he was in pain, yet he didn’t even try to hide the obvious this time. Before however Elrond was able to answer, the older twin’s eyes widened and his breathing grew ragged. “Elrohir, where is he? I can’t feel him,” he asked desperately.

The Elf-Lord’s pale face turned to a shade of grey. What he had only feared before, he now knew for certain. Elrohir had finally cut the bond. Their connection was no longer disturbed, it had ceased to exist. With a great effort Elrond forced a mask of serenity onto his face. “Do not worry, Elladan. He’s at home and waiting for you. Tomorrow we will leave,” he answered at the same time knowing how hollow this statement sounded.

The expression on Elladan´s face told the Elf-Lord that, despite his bad state, the older twin had clearly looked through his attempt to calm him. But, too tired to respond he closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

After speaking to Maren and again thanking him for the offer to stay another night, Elrond took up his vigil over his son and prayed that Glorfindel would return soon.

……………………………………………………..

Elrond awoke when someone gently touched his shoulder. He blinked confused, not realizing that he had fallen asleep. “I have made breakfast, if you would like something,” Isiwen said with a smile and gestured toward the small table.

Elrond nodded gratefully and rolled his shoulders to loosen the knot that had manifested there during the night. “Thank you. I will join you in a few minutes.” The Elf-Lord rose and leaned over the bed and was relieved to see Elladan awake. He was still far too pale, but his eyes didn’t look as glazed as the days before.

“Good morning, my son,” he said, kissing the older twin’s forehead. “How do you feel?” Instead of an answer, Elladan grabbed his father’s hand. “Ada, Elrohir is not simply waiting at home, right? Something is wrong with him. Otherwise I should have been able to feel him. But I cannot. Please Ada, tell me what happened because I can barely remember anything of the last days.”

Elrond sighed, knowing full well, that he could not hide the truth any longer. “You are right,” he began with a soft voice, “I left your brother in almost the same condition that you are in now. He couldn’t believe that we had lost you, and so he searched for many days without rest until all his strength was spent and he succumbed to desperation. He had almost reached the state of fading, and when we received the message that you had been found he wasn’t conscious.”

Elladan´s hand, now grabbing his father’s hand almost painfully hard, trembled and on his face was naked fear. Elrohir had thought him dead and had shut all his senses to the outside world. This was the reason why he couldn’t reach him.

When Elladan had regained his composure somewhat, he struggled to sit up. Knowing this was coming Elrond quickly restrained his son and pushed him gently, but firmly back onto his pillow.

Sensing the protest that would certainly follow Elrond held up his hand. “Please, Elladan. You should not move too much. This will only worsen your condition. Glorfindel is already on his way home to fetch a wagon in which we can transport you home. He will be back shortly.”

As if he had not heard his father’s words the older twin tried again to struggle out of the healer’s restraining grasp. “But, Ada, I must go to him, before it is too late. I cannot wait for the wagon.” Elladan again tried to argue with his father, although he knew better than to make the attempt.

Elrond was weary and worried beyond measure. The Elf-Lord rose and released the struggling youngster in fear he would only do more harm. “No!” Elrond said sharper than he intended. “You are far from healed and two days ago, you nearly slipped past my ability to call you back. You are in no condition to travel. It will serve no one if you don’t survive the journey, least of all Elrohir.” After this outburst, the Elf-Lord lowered his eyes. “Or me. I won’t lose both of you.”

Seeing the desperation in his father’s eyes, Elladan grasped the hand again. “Forgive me, father. I’m sorry. I have caused you so much worry already. I will be no burden to you.” Elrond looked up and embraced his eldest lightly. “You are no burden, Elladan. The only thing I want is to see my sons healthy.”

Settling the older twin back under the blankets after receiving an affirming nod, Elrond waited until Elladan had closed his eyes and finally joined Isiwen at the breakfast table. He nodded gratefully, when the young woman handed him a steaming mug of hot spicy tea. “How is he?” she asked, glancing quickly over to the bed, while sitting herself down.

Elrond sighed. “It’s not easy to explain. As Lord Glorfindel told you before, the healthy state of an elf depends not only on his physical body, his hroa, but also on his mental or spiritual condition, his fea. Elladan is badly wounded, yes, but much worse is his psychic state. He has lost his connection to his brother.”

Although listening carefully, Isiwen looked still confused. Seeing this Elrond smiled. “My sons are twins and very close. They draw strength from each other through a bond they share. My younger son, Elrohir had searched many days for his brother and finally thought him dead. He snapped his connection with the outside world and therefore Elladan cannot reach him.”

While listening, Isiwen had paled. “Do you mean to say with this, that your other son is in the same poor condition as Elladan is?” she asked anxiously.

Elrond nodded sadly. “Yes, and therefore we are working on a way to bring them together soon.”

“And then all will be well?” Isiwen asked doubtfully.

Despite his worry Elrond laughed. “There’s a little bit more work necessary than just bringing them together, but yes, that’s the important step.”

Isiwen sighed. “Then let us hope, that your friend will return soon.”

…………………………………………………..

Erestor leaned wearily on the door frame of the main entrance to the Last Homely House and gazed into the valley. Disturbing thoughts raced through his mind and made him shiver. The longer the absence of the Elf-Lords stretched, the more his hope dwindled; the hope that they would return successfully and all would be well again.

The previous day, Elrohir had lost consciousness and Erestor had been unable to rouse him again. Erestor hadn’t slept or eaten, rather he constantly attended the younger elf, although he knew very well that he could do nothing if Elrohir decided to heed Mandos´ call.

He stood there and let the cool morning breeze ruffle his hair, but the peacefulness of the valley could not drive away his fear, or calm his nerves. He was restless, nervous and short-tempered. “Why?” he thought. “Why must this always happen? Were the times not dark enough?” Shaking his head, he turned to step inside again, when he heard hoof beats on the cobblestones of the path leading to the house.

Alert at once, he spun around and ran into the courtyard, hoping to see the people he so desperately hoped to see. Now he recognized the urgency of the hoofs clattering over the cobblestones, and when he saw a flash of white, he knew that it was Glorfindel who was racing into the courtyard at a breakneck speed.

The horse and rider stopped only a few steps away from him, both of them shivering from exertion and panting hard. The golden haired Elf-Lord leaned over the neck of his horse and tried to catch his breath. Asfaloth hung his head, trying the same.

Alarmed Erestor stepped closer and grabbed the other Elf’s forearm to gain his attention. “Valar, Glorfindel, what happened?” he asked, deeply concerned over his friends totally distressed state.

With a great effort Glorfindel raised his head and Erestor gazed into the weariest eyes he had ever seen. Still breathless, he grabbed Erestor´s outstretched hand and dismounted “Erestor, I need your help. We must prepare a wagon and I must return at once. We have found Elladan, but his condition is bad. We must hurry.”

Barely able to follow the rapidly tumbling words and at the same time very relieved over the good news, Erestor shook his friend by the shoulders to gain his attention. “Glorfindel, you must rest. You are exhausted and weary. You cannot race back in your state.”

This time Glorfindel´s expression calmed completely, a transformation Erestor had often seen in the past. He had always wondered how he accomplished it. He looked at his friend with a stern visage that tolerated no refusal. “No Erestor. The life of the twins depends on our quick reaction. Will you help me now, or must I do it alone?”

Erestor was shocked. Never before had he seen Glorfindel in such a desperate state and never before had he felt that any wasted minutes could pull them into an abyss.

………………………………………………

A few hours later a wagon suitable for transporting an injured person was packed with all that the dark-haired advisor thought necessary, and Erestor had at last received some answers. He was grateful to hear that they had indeed found Elladan more or less alive, but now that the desired goal was so near the time was slipping through their fingers like sand.

The guards that had arrived in the meantime had rested and changed their horses and stood ready to depart again. Erestor had even managed to convince Glorfindel to rest a bit, while he had arranged all that was necessary.

After a much too brief respite, the golden-haired Elf-Lord had sat on Elrohir´s bed and pleaded for the young one to hold on just a little while longer. He could not rouse the unconscious young elf but he hoped that his desperate plea had nevertheless reached him.

After changing into clean clothes and a quick bite of breakfast in the kitchen, Glorfindel stepped into the courtyard, gratefully smiling at the sight that greeted him and the surety that Erestor had again outdone himself in preparing everything that would be necessary. Nodding his thanks silently toward Erestor, he stepped up beside an elaborately brushed Asfaloth and stroked the soft nose gently.

“I’m sorry my friend, but I need your strength once more,” Glorfindel whispered apologetically into the stallion’s ear. The white beast shook its mane and whinnied loudly, showing his master that he was ready and eager to depart.

Glorfindel turned once more toward Erestor. “Thank you my friend, we will be back soon, although the distance is not a short one and I fear our journey back will be a slow one.”

Erestor laid a hand on Glorfindels shoulder. “Come back as fast as possible, I will do my best to keep Elrohir alive, but he needs his brother and his father.”

“I know,” Glorfindel sighed and mounted Asfaloth. The wagon, flanked by ten guards, was set in motion and soon they were out of sight.

After standing there for a while Erestor finally returned inside the house. Keeping Elrohir alive…easier said than done. He had absolutely no idea how to fulfil his task.

To be continued………………..

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 9:

Long Ways

While crossing the seemingly never-ending forest Glorfindel looked worriedly again and again toward the wagon. On the uneven terrain of the forest floor the cart jolted up and down and sometimes the elf acting as driver was hard pressed to hold both the horses and the wagon in line.

He quickly banished the thoughts of what these rough movements would do to an injured person from his mind. He doubted that the journey back in a wagon was such a good idea, but he wasn’t a person that lingered long on a decision once made. Now he must make the best of it.

They carefully picked their way through the undergrowth and along a narrow path in the rocky terrain. Glorfindel urged greater haste, but soon decided that there was no sense to hurrying if he wanted the wagon to arrive in one piece.

On the second day Glorfindel was grateful that he was accompanied by ten warriors, as a band of wargs decided that the elves of this procession were a welcome variation to their usual menu. The big beasts surrounded the wagon and attacked at once. They had seemingly come out of nowhere and the elves had no choice but to defend themselves. If they wanted to proceed on this road, that the wargs had apparently chosen to occupy, they would have to kill them. To outrun them with their load would be futile.

As soon as he spotted them, Glorfindel dismounted and quickly grabbed the reins of the two wagon horses preventing them from bolting and destroying the wagon in their panic. While holding the reins with one hand, he thrust his sword into the belly of a jumping warg, all too eager to attack the frightened horses.

The archers among the ten warriors had also quickly dismounted their horses and crouched in their defending positions. With a practiced routine born from long experience they quickly reduced their attackers until the last remaining warg vanished howling into the forest.

The fight was short but fierce and Glorfindel was grateful that no serious injuries occurred. He ordered a brief rest while he made sure that there were no serious wounds and that any minor injuries were cared for. As quickly as possible the procession resumed its way, reaching it’s’ goal at dawn of the next day without any further incident.

…………………………………………….

Elrond jerked from his slumber beside his son’s bed. With a groan he briefly stretched his cramped back muscles and tried to determine what had woken him. With a quick look at the older twin and confirming that his son was still asleep he rose and walked toward the door, sure that the noise disturbing him had come from outside. With a fleeting thought he recognized that he could locate neither Maren nor Isiwen inside the house.

Stepping over the threshold and closing the door silently, he sighed with relief when he noticed a great wagon nearing the house flanked by ten Imladris warriors with Glorfindel riding in front.

He patiently waited until the procession had reached the little fenced in space in front of the house and stepped forward to greet the golden-haired elf. His smile however died on his face when he took in the battered state of his friend. He could see torn clothes, dried blood on tunics and pants and bandages visible under rolled up sleeves and trousers. He looked closely at the warriors and saw that the other elves didn’t look any better.

The dark-haired Elf-Lord quickly crossed the front yard towards where Glorfindel had stopped and was about to dismount. Instantly Elrond saw the fine lines of pain in the fair face and his concern rose. “What happened?” he asked worriedly, ready to lend a helping hand.

Seeing that he could not get away without an answer Glorfindel sighed. “We had an encounter with a pack of very hungry wargs. Don’t worry Elrond, there are no bad injuries, my men are only tired and already taken care of.”

Knowing that this statement would not placate the healer, Elrond´s next words confirmed just that.

“This I will decide”, the Elf-Lord said sternly and took a look around. “I will see every one of you during the next hour, have I made myself clear?” He received ten reluctant nods.

“Glorfindel?” Elrond inquired.

“Yes, yes,” the golden haired Elf-Lord murmured. “As if we do not have other, more important things to do.”

“I heard that,” Elrond retorted smiling and shoved his friend gently toward the house.

After seeing to the warriors’ wounds, providing them with nourishment, and seeing that they would rest, Elrond and Glorfindel debated the best way of proceeding. Elladan´s state was stable, but he was far from being in a condition that let Elrond relax.

Isiwen and Maren had arrived from their work in the little field behind the house. Offering suggestions and providing the two Elf-Lords with a map of the surroundings they again did their best to be of any help.

Elrond wanted to leave as quickly as possible, after granting Glorfindel and his warriors the proper rest they would need for the journey home.

Elrond once again looked after Elladan´s wounds, having stopped wondering why they refused to heal properly long ago, especially now after Glorfindel´s brief report about Elrohir´s equally bad state. He was not really surprised, yet greatly worried that Elrohir had so completely cut the connection with the outer world. The brothers were tormenting themselves in thinking each other lost and seeing no reason to go on alone.

The twins always gathered great amounts of strength from each other. Because of that it was even more dangerous when one of them was badly wounded. The other one was also dragged into the abyss and no-one could stop this.

Elladan awoke at his father’s ministrations and Elrond was shaken again, when he saw his son’s dull eyes and sensed his removed spirit. He was not quite coherent when he looked with pained eyes at his father.

Elrond laid a gentle hand on the hot forehead and again poured healing energy into the weak body. “We will leave shortly, my son, and soon you will be reunited with your brother. He is waiting for you.” Elladan closed his eyes, whether due to pain or relief Elrond could not tell. *Please let my words be true,* Elrond murmured, praying to every Valar listening.

…………………………………..

When the next morning dawned all was prepared. Elladan had been transferred from the house to the wagon and settled there as comfortably as possible. Elrond had made him drink a strong sedative to ease his pain and endure the journey. The Elf-Lords had gathered their belongings and the guards stood ready to leave.

Despite the need for haste, Elrond and Glorfindel took their time to say farewell to Isiwen and Maren.

A plan had long settled in Elrond´s mind, how he could reward all that had been given. Isiwen and Maren had helped without thought and without expecting anything in return. This behaviour was rare in these times and all the more welcome when it transpired. Elladan would not have survived, had the human couple not taken care of him, and this Elrond knew very well.

In the fashion of men, Elrond stretched out his hand and took Maren´s in his.

“I’m deeply in your debt and I want to thank you with all my heart. I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.”

Blushing slightly and feeling uncomfortable Maren shook his head. “I have said it before. It was an honour for us to be able to help. I only hope that your sons will recover.”

Elrond inclined his head and turned toward Isiwen. The slender woman came forth and embraced the Elf-Lord. “I wish you a safe journey home and please let us know how your sons fare.”

Elrond returned the embrace and nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

While Glorfindel also expressed his gratitude, the dark-haired Elf lord turned, mounted the cart and sat beside his sleeping son on the wagon bed.

After sitting himself on the wagon seat and with a last look back, Glorfindel took up the reins and guided the wagon onto the small path, flanked left and right by the warriors. Maren and Isiwen waved until the elves had vanished from view.

…………………………………………………..

Thinking back later Elrond thought that this journey back home was his longest of his life. It was very different from what he had expected; Elladan didn’t utter any sounds and only moved a bit due to the harsh treatment his body was forced to endure by the rough movements of the wagon.

Many times the Elf-Lord was forced to make sure that his son was still alive because it was difficult to judge by just looking at the still body beside him. The longer the journey stretched out, the more he began to lose the hope that they would arrive in time. Glorfindel did his best to guide the wagon smoothly over the rough terrain, but he was unable to change the surface of the land.

Elrond reached out to connect to his son’s fea and tried to strengthen his weak connection to the world.

Simultaneously he reached out toward Elrohir. He was frightened beyond measure when he was unable to connect to the bond of his youngest, but calmed his nerves quickly so as to not upset Elladan any further.

But what triumph would it be to save Elladan´s life if he was unable to arrive home in time to save Elrohir´s life as well? The victory over death would be a defeat, because Elladan would follow his brother to the halls of Mandos.

After many hours Elrond called for a halt, when he saw the tiredness in the faces around him. No-one had even uttered a word and so he must be the one to demand a break.

Without complaint Glorfindel stopped and the warriors quickly established a small camp.

Glorfindel freed the wagon horses to graze freely and gather their strength. He looked anxiously ahead, dreading what awaited them the next day. The rocky terrain was a perfect place for an ambush or an attack and they wouldn’t be able to outrun their enemy. Furthermore, the navigating would not become any easier the nearer they came to Rivendell.

The valley lay sheltered in a deep ravine and even travelling on foot or horseback was difficult, but with a wagon, that should not jostle too much, it would be a sheer, almost impossible task.

Glorfindel shook his head. He would deal with these problems when they presented themselves.

The golden-haired Elf-Lord walked over to the wagon and was surprised to see Elrond speaking softly with Elladan.

Glorfindel looked over the railing and looked into the younger elf’s eyes. “How do you feel, young one?” he asked.

Elladan tried a smile but failed. “I’m fine,” he whispered, “but your driving is terrible.” Glorfindel smiled back without comment, clearly seeing the fatigue in the older twin’s eyes.

Elladan was not up to his usual bantering. Glorfindel knew exactly how the jostling of the wagon strained the younger elf’s strength.

Elrond tightened the blanked snugly around his son’s shoulders and leaped from the wagon stretching his sore muscles. “I will be back shortly,” he promised Elladan and walked toward the fire that had been started by one of the guards in the meantime. He gratefully accepted a cup of steaming hot tea one of the warriors offered him.

Elrond looked, concerned, at his friend. “Rest a bit, you look tired,” he said.

“As do you,” Glorfindel murmured, flexing his sore shoulder muscles, but he stopped fearing that his arms would fall off any minute.

“Yes,“ Elrond smiled, “but I do not need to navigate two edgy beasts over this terrain. Please Glorfindel. It will help no-one when you fall from the wagon. We have still three days to overcome and I expect an attack any moment we are not alert.”

Nodding without another word and knowing that it was fruitless to argue with his friend, Glorfindel stretched out on his bedroll beside the fire and was asleep almost instantly.

The warriors distributed the duty of watch among them and rested too.

Elrond returned to the wagon and lay beside his son on the platform. Elladan snuggled close, seeking warmth, and the Elf-Lord smiled when he remembered the last time his sons had done that.

The night was uneventful for which Elrond was very grateful. In the morning he rebound Elladan´s wounds and was astounded to see that the marks didn’t look so ugly anymore. New hope pulsed through him, but was quickly dampened when he looked at Elladan´s closed eyes.

How must Elrohir feel right now? *Hold on, young ones*, he pleaded, *only a little longer*.

When he rose and looked at the camp, he was surprised to see that all was ready to continue.

Glorfindel sat at the head of the wagon and smiled at him. “Ready to go on?” he asked. Elrond snorted. “You should have woken me.”

Glorfindel´s face turned serious again. “The sleep was good for you both. I fear we will need our strength today. We have travelled undisturbed for too long.”

Elrond nodded. “I fear you are right. Let us be on our way then.”

To be continued………………………

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 10:

More troubles

Elrond was slowly lulled into a light slumber by the motion of the wagon. Even though he was determined to stay awake; he was weary to the bone from caring day and night for his son and the worry that constantly gnawed at his heart.

He sat with his back leaning against the wooden balustrade on the front side of the wagon, with his son’s head resting in his lap. He stroked the black tresses gently and hummed a soft melody to calm his troubled mind. The two warriors riding left and right of the wagon smiled at each other, as the Elf-Lord’s eyes drifted shut, trusting the surrounding guards to protect them.

Yet, seemingly minutes later, he jerked up, when he heard a shout of warning from Glorfindel, still guiding the wagon. He carefully rose to his knees, trying not to disturb his fortunately still sleeping child. A second later the first arrow imbedded itself only inches from the Elf-Lord´s hand on the wagon railing.

“Keep down,” Glorfindel shouted with a quick look behind him, as he urged the horses to greater speed. Elrond ducked protectively over Elladan´s body as another projectile flew only inches above his head. Peering just an inch over the wagon railing into the dense forest he saw a large band of orcs closing fast.

“We cannot outrun them,” he shouted back, trying to overcome the noise the wagon and the horse hooves produced accompanied by the howling of the orcs.

“I know,” Glorfindel answered with a grim expression on his face. His posture was taut with the exertion needed to hold the horses and wagon in line but he kept urging the horses forward.

As Elrond had feared, the jostling of the wagon intensified, throwing the two occupants on the platform from one corner to the other. Elladan moaned and clawed his hands instinctively into his father’s robes. Elrond tried to stabilize the frantic tossing of his son´s body, without much success.

He gasped as an orc managed to jump onto the wagon raising his scimitar. Without thinking, the Elf-Lord kicked out with his boots with full force sending the orc flying backwards from the wagon bed.

When the wagon rumbled over a large rock on the ground the Elf-Lord was nearly thrown from the wagon as well. Seeing this, Glorfindel brought the horses to an abrupt stop, causing Elrond to lose his balance a second time.

“Thank you, very much,” he growled, yet his words were drowned by the battle noises coming from all around the wagon. Glorfindel grimaced briefly knowing that the dark-haired elf had not really chided him. With his sword already drawn the golden warrior sprung from the cart. After tethering the frightened horses to a sturdy tree trunk he rushed away to help his men holding the orcs at bay.

“Don’t move and stay down,” Elrond whispered into the older twin’s ear, as Elladan looked at him questioningly. “I can help,” Elladan answered shaking his head.

“No, you can´t,” Elrond retorted and tossed a blanket over his son’s body to hide him.

He rose and was about to leave the relative shelter of the wagon, when he felt a hot pain suddenly spreading from his right shoulder. However, before he had time to fully comprehend what had happened, an orc jumped at him and together they tumbled from the wagon.

Elrond cried out in pain as the arrow protruding from his shoulder, was snapped by his rather hard landing on the ground with the orc on top of him. His vision blurred momentarily, and he knew this would be his end if he didn’t manage to get rid of the foul creature looking down at him with dark cold eyes.

Gathering all his strength, Elrond managed to free his hand and pulled a small knife out of his belt. He thrust it into the belly of the orc with such speed it left the orc no time to react. He grit his teeth, rolling onto his stomach and shoving the dead orc from his body. He froze when he regarded the battle scene before him.

The warriors and Glorfindel were hard pressed by the large group of orcs, trying to keep the foul creatures away from the wagon. The fighting skills of orcs never matched the abilities of the elves, but their advantage was always their greater numbers.

Elrond had managed to grow accustomed to the pain in his shoulder and was about to rise again, when he heard a cry from the wagon. His blood ran cold when he realized that the cry had come from Elladan. The pain was forgotten while he scrambled to his feet, pulled out his sword and jumped back onto the wagon.

He gasped when he saw an orc hovering over Elladan with a knife held high in his hand, ready to strike any second for a fatal blow. With an enraged cry he threw his sword, full knowing that he had no time to cross the distance before the orc would kill his son.

With a dull thud, the sword imbedded itself in the foul creature’s back, slicing through him and coming out through the orc’s chest. Unable to end his task, the orc grunted and fell on top of the older twin’s body, splattering him with his blood.

Elrond quickly slithered over the wagon platform still in motion from the nervously prancing horses, knelt by his son’s side and heaved the dead body of the orc from Elladan´s prone form. With quick moving hands, he searched Elladan´s body for injuries, but the young elf grasped his wrists and stopped his frantic movements.

“I’m fine, Ada. I’m not injured,” he whispered, closing his eyes in exhaustion. His father mustn’t know that his legs ached and his back burned from the harsh treatment the jostling of the speeding wagon had caused. At least not yet…he would find out soon enough anyway.

Not trusting his voice, Elrond only nodded and planted a kiss on his son’s forehead. When he rose to his knees again, the sudden silence hit him like another blow. Bewildered he looked around and sighed, relieved, when he saw that the elves had managed to kill or drive away the attacking orcs.

Ready to take a deep breath, his smile froze when he noticed two warriors kneeling on the ground surrounding a fallen body. Without seeing the one lying on the ground he instantly had a bad feeling in his gut about who was lying there unmoving.

Looking back at Elladan, he scrambled to his feet. “I will be back shortly.” Jumping down from the wagon again, he gasped when his shoulder protested against the harsh treatment. Clenching his teeth together, he ran toward the group, standing around Glorfindel.

The two warriors kneeling beside their captain looked up with mixed expressions of worry and relief on their faces. Elrond knelt by his friend’s side and gasped, seeing the large gash running down the left side of his head, bleeding heavily.

After a quick examination, Elrond quickly tore a strip of cloth from Glorfindel´s cloak and pressed it firmly over the bleeding wound. After many long minutes the blood flow lessened and the Elf-Lord was able to inspect the injury more closely. The wound needed stitching and Glorfindel would have an enormous headache when he woke. Fortunately the bone beneath was not broken, yet head wounds were never to be taken lightly, regardless of how harmless they looked.

Elrond nodded grateful, as one of the warriors held out more strips of cloth to him so that he could bind the wound temporarily until they reached Rivendell.

When he was finished he looked up into many worried faces and guessed the questions barely held back. “This must do, until we arrive home. We will transport him in the wagon but we should resume our way without further delay.”

Taking a deep breath, one of the warriors stepped forward and laid a hand lightly on the Elf-Lord’s arm. “You are injured too, my Lord. I will treat your injury first.”

Having forgotten his own wound but feeling it more intensely now that the adrenalin boost had lessened a bit, Elrond shook his head. “No time for this. The arrow is too deeply embedded and must be cut out. Therefore it is better that it remains where it is and stops the bleeding.” Not really satisfied with this answer, because he was quite able to remove an arrow, yet knowing that the healer´s knowledge surpassed his beyond measure, the guard nodded.

After this was settled, two warriors lifted Glorfindel´s body carefully up and laid him next to Elladan in the wagon. The younger elf’s eyes grew wide, when he realized who had joined him in this miserable position.

Knowing this was not the time to ask, he closed his mouth and moved closer to his mentor to keep him warm. Elrond supplied them with an extra blanket and only now, Elladan noticed that his father was cradling his right arm awkwardly against his body and saw the red stain beneath the cloak.

“Ada,” he gasped, “you are injured.” Before he could say more, Elrond raised his hand. “It’s not that bad. We must depart from here before more orcs arrive.”

Equally not satisfied with this answer, Elladan had the same insight as the guard before and said nothing more. Despite the disapproving looks from the warriors, Elrond scrambled onto the wagon box and took up the reins.

Just when he was about to give the signal to move on, they heard someone approach. Elrond closed his eyes momentarily, while the warriors again raised their swords and bows. Don’t let it be orcs, or something worse, he pleaded silently. In their battered state they were hard put to give any resistance.

When he opened his eyes again and listened more closely, he clearly recognized the light clatter of hooves only produced by elven horses. He looked around and saw the guards relax also as they too realized it was an elf approaching. When the Elf-Lord looked forward again, he saw a dark-haired and well known, tall elf riding straight for him, followed by a large group of warriors.

“Erestor, you are most welcome. Your timing could not be better,” Elrond greeted his advisor.

Relief clearly visible on his face, Erestor held up a hand, stopped his mount and took a look around. With one glance, he recognized the desperate and desolate state of the small group and the worry on his face intensified, when he saw the two still figures on the wagon and the hunched form of his Lord on the box along with the dead orcs.

While the fresh warriors were greeted warmly by their comrades, Erestor dismounted and joined Elrond on the wagon. “What happened?” he asked while casting an anxious look at the still forms of Glorfindel and Elladan. Taking the reins from Elrond’s hands he scowled. “And, give me these.”

Elrond complied without words. He had been unsure about whether he would have been able to navigate the wagon properly in his current state.

“We were attacked by a large group of orcs and Glorfindel was wounded from a blow to his head,” Elrond explained, grateful that he could now share the burden of responsibility of bringing the two wounded home safely with Erestor. He felt suddenly sleepy and dizzy. The blood loss and pain had affected him more than he was willing to admit.

Seeing the weariness in his Lord´s features both from being wounded and from the constant care and worry over his sons Erestor only nodded. “And you have found Elladan,” he said with a look over his shoulder at the younger elf. “He was right then,” he murmured.

Elrond´s head jerked up at the murmured words and he looked confused at his councillor. “Who was right?” he asked frowning.

After quickly surveying the scene Erestor redirected his gaze at Elrond. “A few hours ago, Elrohir awoke briefly and kept calling his brother’s name. It was impossible to calm him. Then suddenly, he went limp, and was as lifeless as before. So I guessed that you must be near Rivendell and possibly in some trouble.”

“You guessed right, my friend,” Elrond repeated and squeezed the arm of the dark-haired elf sitting next to him gratefully. “Let us move on then.”

“That we will do,” Erestor answered. “But not before I have treated that wound of yours.” Elrond sighed knowing that he could no so easily avoid Erestor. Nonetheless he tried.

“As I have explained before, we have no time for this. Therefore we must leave and get these two to proper care,” he said inclining his head toward the two occupants on the wagon.

“Very well,” Erestor answered raising an annoyed eyebrow at the healer´s statement that he would not be able to treat an arrow wound, yet agreeing silently with the Elf-Lord that they should leave quickly. “But, at least let me bind your arm so it is immobilized and you can do no further harm to yourself.”

After a brief hesitation, Elrond nodded, knowing that Erestor could be as stubborn as he was. He also felt that this was the best way to save precious time.

After Erestor had finished, Elrond sat in the back of wagon, between Glorfindel and Elladan. Erestor guided the wagon toward home, finally, followed by the large group of warriors.

Soon Elrond was lulled into a deep exhausted sleep and Erestor urged the horses to greater speed, determined to reach Rivendell before nightfall with the hope of not gathering another patient on the wagon behind him.

When Elrond awoke he struggled to open his eyes. Why had he closed them in the first place? He felt comfortable, but why was his mind so dizzy and why was his vision partly blurred? He shook his head and tried to gather his shattered thoughts. What had happened?

Suddenly he bolted upright when his mind slowly revealed some memories to him. Instantly he regretted his rash movement, when a hot pain flared through his bound shoulder.

“Easy, Elrond,” Erestor said, now appearing in his line of vision. “You have only slept a few hours.”

Elrond looked at Erestor confused, still not in full grasp of his memories. “We are at home? How are the twins? How fares Glorfindel and why do I know nothing of all these things?”

Erestor gently pushed the Elf-Lord back on his pillow and smiled. He knew exactly, why Elrond felt so irritated. He had fallen unconscious during the last stage of their journey. Because of that he did not know what had happened when they had finally arrived home.

“Elrond, calm down. We are back in Rivendell, Glorfindel is doing fine, considering the circumstances and the twins are reunited. Elrohir shows no sign of waking yet and Elladan is unconscious too, but I think, even if it is only a feeling, that Elrohir has recognized his brother’s presence.”

Elrond sank back and sighed. The news could be worse, yet the lasting unresponsiveness of his sons worried him greatly. “Has Glorfindel awakened?” he asked, watching his advisor closely.

Aware of the scrutinising look Erestor smiled again, fully knowing that he could not hide the truth from the Elf-Lord. “Yes, he has, but only briefly. He looked tired and a bit disorientated, but now he is resting.”  

Elrond frowned. “No wonder, with this kind of head injury. He must be watched closely.”

“We will do so,” Erestor promised, slowly getting irritated over his Lord´s refusal to rest again.

“I cannot lie here idly. I must look after the twins,” Elrond stated, trying to struggle into a sitting position.

Now the end of Erestor´s patience was reached and he held up a hand. “Elrond, please. You are barely able to stand. You are not able to help your sons right now, and you need your strength for yourself. I don’t think that they are in immediate danger. They can surely wait a few hours more, until you have regained a bit of your strength. Elrond, listen to me. Should something change, I will fetch you, I promise.”

Hearing the slightly irritated under-tone in Erestor´s voice the Elf-Lord complied without further complaint and closed his eyes. “You are right my friend, as always. I’m only so frightened to lose them, now that I have found hope again.”

“I know,” Erestor whispered. “I will watch over them.”

……………………..

When Elrond awoke the next time, he felt much better. He didn’t feel dizzy anymore and the pain in his shoulder had subsided to a dull ache. Nonetheless he closed his eyes and opened his senses to the outside world.

As he extended his mental fingers toward the bond that connected him with his sons, he gasped. Elladan´s connection was very weak and he couldn’t sense Elrohir´s at all. He jerked upright, knowing that he must act quickly. He drew the covers back and stood up.

He grabbed the nearby nightstand to steady himself, as the floor swayed dangerously. Angry over the betrayal of his body, he put on his tunic and walked with stubbornly pressed lips toward the door.

When he had almost reached his goal, the door opened and revealed a concerned looking Glorfindel. The golden-haired elf quickly crossed the distance and grabbed his friend´s arm, before the Elf-Lord managed to fall. “Do not stop me,” the Elrond said between gritted teeth. “Something is wrong with the twins and I must see after them.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Calm down, my friend. I’m not here to stop you in fact I’m here to fetch you. I think you are right. Something is wrong.” Elrond looked up relieved that the golden warrior would not stop him, and then fear crossed over his face when Glorfindel confirmed his worries.

Accepting Glorfindel´s arm to steady his slightly swaying step, the two elves hurried down the long corridor toward the room the twins shared. Glorfindel quickly opened the door, while Elrond squeezed past him.

The dark-haired Elf-Lord stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. His sons lay side by side, facing each other on the large bed. The identical bodies lay there completely still and their faces were deadly pale. Nothing indicated that they even lived.

After the first shock had passed, Elrond rushed forward, sat on the edge of the mattress and placed a hand on each forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing mind. Again he tried to connect to his sons’ fea and was again barely able to. Calming his much too fast beating heart and swallowing the anguish that rose in his throat, he inhaled deeply and poured as much healing energy, as he could provide into the weak bodies.

He blocked out the outer world and concentrated only on this task, there was nothing more important at that moment. He knew that he would endanger himself, but he didn’t care. If he was unable to bring his sons back from the brink of death, then his life would hold no meaning for him anymore.

Glorfindel silently closed the door they had forgotten in their haste and walked soundlessly to a nearby chair, not to disturb the Elf-Lord, but ready to support his friend should the need arise. He knew that this could only end with a collapse. Elrond was not hale enough to expend so much healing energy; his own body still required much for his own recovery. But Glorfindel knew that the healer would overstep all limits where the fate of his sons was concerned.

The fair-haired elf shuddered. If Elrond was not successful in calling the young ones back, then he would lose three elves this night and all off them were very dear to him.

To be continued…………………….

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 11:

Wandering in the dark

Elrond walked down a dark path, only dimly lit by starlight. The sparse light limited his vision to just a few steps ahead, so he walked forward; ever anxious about what was ahead.

“Elladan, Elrohir,” he called, hoping that he would find any sign of where his sons could be, but only silence greeted him. An unnatural silence such as he had never experienced before. But his sons had to be here somewhere, trapped between the dimensions and unable to find their way back.

No! he thought. He would find them and guide them back, regardless of what he might have to sacrifice. He was beyond desperate now. He had hoped that bringing them together and healing their physical and spiritual wounds would be enough, but he was mistaken. The damage done was too great.

He did not really know where he was right now. His attempt to call his sons back from whatever place they had fled to had brought him to this unnatural place. He guessed that he was on a battlefield of wills now. No-one could help him or guide him. He had to succeed here or his sons were lost to him.

He urged himself to hurry, because this should not take too long, otherwise he would not have the strength to guide his sons back. The young ones were fading and soon their connection with the real word would snap and they would be lost forever.

After a time of fruitless wandering in the dark, Elrond realized, annoyed, that he was beginning to feel the effect of it all. He was starting to get tired. His feet grew heavier with every step and his vision was now narrowed to the dark path. He knew that his strength would be used up soon and then he would lose his only chance to help the twins, but he had not yet found the ones he sought.

He gasped when he suddenly banged against an unseen yet solid wall. He extended his hands, to run them over the invisible barrier. His mind could not grasp the real meaning of this wall standing in his path. He did also not know how far this obstacle extended. Could he somehow go around it?

Suddenly the path beyond the wall was lit somewhat and he could see two shadowy figures heading away from him and disappearing into the darkness.

Hoping that these were his sons; he pounded on the barrier to get their attention. Not knowing if any sound could penetrate this barrier he cried on the top of his lungs. “Elladan, Elrohir. Come back, I’m here now. I can help you and guide you back, my sons.”

As he had feared, the barrier blocked the sound of his voice completely. His throat sore, his voice hoarse and his fists aching from the pounding against the wall, he sank to his knees, desperate tears running down his face; so near and yet so far. He knew that he did not have the strength to overcome the barrier. His own weakness had stopped him from helping his sons, and now they were lost to him.

…………………………………………………………….

Glorfindel jumped up when Elrond shouted the names of his sons. He caught the unconscious form of his friend just in time. Elrond was completely limp in his arms. Having dreaded this for some time, he momentarily sank to his knees holding his friend close. He had been shut out from the mental battle that was going on and because of that he was at a loss of what had happened. Had the healer been successful in reaching his sons or had he failed?

Standing up and lifting the lithe body from the floor, he laid the Elf-Lord next to his sons on the bed, momentarily not knowing what else to do. Looking at the young ones, he could not detect any change. What was he supposed to do?

Absorbed in his racing thoughts he jerked up when the door banged open. Having been alerted by the shouts, Erestor stood in the doorframe and looked, confused, at the scene before him. “What happened?” he whispered.

Glorfindel shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “This, my friend, I do not know.”

Looking at the three motionless Half-elves on the bed, he felt as helpless as Glorfindel. Erestor crossed the room and laid a comforting hand on Glorfindel´s shoulder. “Don´t despair yet,” he tried to reassure his friend. “Perhaps we should grant them more time.”

Glorfindel nodded sceptically. “I hope you are right, but I hate to sit here idly and do nothing, not being able to help. Maybe they slip beyond our reach and we do not even notice it. It is frustrating.”

“All lies in the hands of the Valar now”, Erestor murmured.

Glorfindel looked up. “I hope you are right, but sometimes I fear they do not care.”

………………………………………………………..

Elrohir sank down to his knees. He was weary, he was lonely, and he was cold. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and let go…let go of his sadness, let go of his loneliness, let go of his grief.

He had lost his brother, the other half of his soul, his reason to live. He had always dreaded the day when Elladan would be dead and he was left behind. So many times he had tried to reach his brother to sent comfort and strength but every time he had failed. And now…now he did not have the strength to go on. He could not and he would not.  

Without Elladan his soul was not complete. He knew that others would consider him weak, that he had given up too early but he did not care anymore. Elladan would have lived on without him, but he could not.

After searching and not finding his brother and after the fading of their bond, his life held no meaning anymore. He wanted to be rid of this constant sadness, this constant aching. Elladan had vanished from his life and with him all joy had left his existence. He knew the sorrow he would cause his father if he gave into the beckoning feeling of fading, but he couldn’t help it.

Without his brother, nothing made sense anymore. A few days ago, hope had flared again, when he thought he had glimpsed a life sign of his brother. But as quickly as it had come, it had vanished. He had so desperately tried to renew the contact but, like in a bad dream, he could never quite grasp the loose ends. In the end he was not sure if his feeling had been real or only imaginary, wishful thinking.

This had undone him and now he walked along the dark path alone, away from his family, his loved ones, and his life. With every passing minute, his bond to the living world grew thinner.

Suddenly he heard a voice calling out to him. He couldn’t see, who was there in the dark, nor could he make out the words. Longingly he looked forward, toward the end of the path, bathed in white light, beckoning him and promising to ease all his sorrows. But there was also the voice, soft and distant, but somehow familiar.

The path from which the voice came lay behind him bathed in utter darkness. He had no desire to turn back, not now that he had come so far. He pressed his hands over his ears to shut the voice out, knowing full well, that this was futile, because the voice was in his head.

He began to run, but the light seemed to not come any closer, regardless of how fast he moved. This has to end now, he thought, exhausted, and turned around in anger to face whoever wanted to hinder him in reaching his destination.

When he saw a figure emerge from the darkness, heading straight toward him, he moved into a defensive stance. “Stop,” he called, “Don’t come any closer. Leave me alone. I don’t want you here.”

His angry words seemed to have some effect on the stranger, because he stopped abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

Yet after a few moments, the figure moved again and resumed its’ course toward him. Elrohir was shocked when the stranger came near enough to see his face. Elrohir looked into his own face.

“No, no,” he shouted, “this cannot be. I’m going mad.”

He turned and tried to run away, but the stranger was faster and grabbed him. They both tumbled to the ground in a tangled heap. Elrohir struggled violently to get rid of the body lying atop of him. He kicked and pushed, bit and scratched, but was unable to escape.

Suddenly the other pinned his arms to his side and brought his mouth to his ear. “Please, Elrohir, don’t fight me. I’m Elladan. I’m your brother. I’m here. I’m really here. I will help you. Please, calm down.”

Elrohir didn’t stop his struggling. He didn’t want to hear what his mind´s imagination told him. He didn’t want to succumb to another illusion. Without conscious effort however the rational part of his brain took control over his mind for a short amount of time, and demanded that he listen.

He ceased struggling and blinked. “Elladan?” he whispered hopefully, yet hesitantly. “Is it really you?”

Elladan embraced his brother and held him tight. “Yes, little brother, it’s me. Come, let us go back. Someone has called to me. Now I know the way back.”

Elrohir was shaken. Could this really be? Could his brother really be here with him? Looking intently at his mirror image a great sadness washed again over him. If his brother was here with him, then this could mean only one thing: Elladan was also fading or already dead.

But what had Elladan said about turning back? Could it be that they had a chance to return? When Elladan stood and extended his hand hope flared again within Elrohir and hesitantly he grabbed the outstretched hand, fearful that he would grab thin air and his brother would vanish again. When he felt the warm and solid flesh however he held on and let his brother hoist him to his feet.

Too tired to think, Elrohir followed Elladan’s lead, as he always had done, and together they ran back the way they had come. Forgotten was the light and forgotten was the beckoning call. Suddenly he was very eager to reach the end of the path still lying in darkness.

After endless running in the dark, Elrohir began to doubt again. Where were they heading? He could see nothing ahead, but Elladan´s constant tugging at his arm left him no chance to slow his running.

Both of the twins were occupied with their desire not to stumble in the dark, but they did just that as they tripped over a figure lying on the ground. The twins barely managed not to fall. Elladan released his brother´s hand and knelt down to turn the fallen body over, so he could see his face. Both gasped in unison when they looked into their father’s face. Not comprehending why their father was here with them in this unnatural place Elladan gently caressed his father´s cheek.

“Ada?” He whispered, afraid that the Elf-Lord would not respond to him.

Elrohir knelt too, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand. Why is he here?”

For endless minutes nothing happened and the panic in both brothers rose. With a shaking hand Elladan tried again to rouse their father. This time the Elf-Lord moaned and his eyelids began to flicker open.

“Elladan, Elrohir?” He whispered, not trusting his voice.

“Yes, Ada, we are here. Come let us return home”, the twins answered simultaneously with a heartfelt sigh. Both of them embraced their father. The trio sat there for a few moments, simply savouring the sensation of being together again.

All of his tension and tiredness fled, when the Elf-Lord felt his children pressed against him. He had achieved the impossible. Now he could look forward again.

……………………………………………………………

Glorfindel had nearly lost all hope. Hours had passed and nothing had happened. The three Half-Elves showed almost no signs of life. Their breathing was shallow and their heartbeats were almost non-existent.

He looked out through the window as a great feeling of despair and loneliness washed over him. He felt catapulted back to the dark and cold mountain path centuries ago when he had also failed to protect the ones he was supposed to care for. He felt he had failed in his duty to protect the descendants of the line of Eärendil – again.

Gripping the window sill he did not want to turn around. He did not want to witness their last moments. Once again the greed and malice of men had cost an immortal life. It was so senseless and simply not necessary.

If the unimaginable happened and Elrond and his sons would perish from this world, then this would be a hard blow for Imladris, one from which it might never recover. And it would be like a mortal wound for him. For a second time he would have to watch helplessly as a great Elven Home was destroyed.

He didn’t know how long he had stood there, not caring who witnessed his tears and despair. He had blocked out the outer world so completely that at first he didn’t hear someone calling him. Yet at the third attempt, he whirled around, clearly not believing what his ears had been trying to tell him.

He nearly tripped over the chair standing in his way, when he rushed toward the bed and gripped Elrond’s hand. He stared into his friend´s grey eyes and tried to calm his franticly beating heart.

The Elf-Lord smiled, albeit weak, when he saw the many emotions crossing the golden haired elf’s face. “I´m fine, Glorfindel. Don´t worry. All will be well now,” he whispered. Sensing the inner turmoil shocking his friend’s frame, Elrond squeezed Glorfindel´s hand reassuringly.

Glorfindel jerked up and looked at the twins. They still lay facing each other, but with their eyes open and smiling. He staggered back toward the now welcome chair in his path and sunk heavily into the cushions. He took a deep breath and looked back at Elrond.

“You three have a bad sense of humour.”

Elrond´s smile froze on his face, when he realized how shaken the warrior was. And suddenly he knew why. Glorfindel had thought them already dead.

Elrond rose carefully and crossed the distance between them. He knelt before the chair and looked deeply into his friend’s impossibly blue, haunted eyes.

“I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry. We did not mean to upset you so”.

Glorfindel looked up and Elrond was again taken aback at the deep emotions he still could see in the ancient elf’s eyes.

“It’s not important anymore. The only thing that matters now is that you three are well.”

Elrond only nodded when he registered how tired and exhausted Glorfindel looked.

“You should rest, my friend. Come,” he advised when Glorfindel rose to his feet. Together they turned back toward the bed and looked at the two young elves which had fallen asleep again.

Elrond sighed. “This time, it was close,” he confessed.

Glorfindel nodded. “Much too close for my liking,” he answered.

………………………………………………………………

When Elladan awoke, he smiled. At his back he felt the calming presence of his father´s sleeping form and across from him he looked at his equally content mirror image.

Elrohir, also awake, had tears in his eyes when he extended his hand and lovingly caressed his brother’s cheek.

“Thank you”, he whispered.

“For what?” Elladan queried.

“For bringing me back. For being here and not giving up on me,” Elrohir answered.

Elladan smiled. “You are the other half of my soul, how could I give up on you?”

Regardless of the smile Elrohir was bestowing on his brother, Elladan felt that there was still something unspoken between them. He knew that now was not the time but he would not forget it.

Their foreheads touching they closed their eyes and were asleep again at once.

To be continued……………………………

Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 12:

A new beginning

Elladan panted heavily, as he hobbled down the main stairs toward the garden in search of his brother.

He disliked using the crutches, movement with them was not easy and was, most of all, tiring. His father, however, had made very clear to him that he should put as little weight as possible on his still healing legs, especially on the left one. This morning he had used the crutches for the first time, to join his family at the breakfast table.

Elladan was very grateful not to be confined to bed any longer and enjoyed the gathering. But despite the relaxed atmosphere, everyone was still trying to come to terms with what had happened.

When Elladan had looked into his brother’s eyes that morning, he had had known that Elrohir was trying to hide something from him and the others. He knew that his brother had been struggling with himself, trying to not let anyone know that something was amiss. But his twin was not so easily fooled.

Elrohir was too chatty and his smile never reached his eyes. When he excused himself to leave the room Elladan went searching for him shortly afterwards, deeming that now was the right time to find out what haunted his brother.

He knew where to find his brother. The same spot, where he always went when troubled - the stables.

He stopped along the way to flex his aching shoulder muscles. His legs didn’t hurt as much as his upper body did now.

After he had resumed his journey and had finally reached the stables, he instantly spotted his brother sitting on a bale of hay. Elrohir was absentmindedly stroking a cat that was purring contentedly in his lap. His heart went out to his brother when he saw the hunched shoulders and the tears that threatened to spill any moment.

He lowered himself next to his brother on the bale and sighed. “Will you not tell me what troubles you, little brother?” he asked quietly.

For a short time Elladan thought that his brother would open up, but then he pretended to be surprised. “What do you mean? I’m fine.” he replied somewhat coolly.

Elladan sighed again. “Don’t think me a fool, Elrohir. What is it?” He grabbed his brother’s chin and gently forced him to hold eye contact.

This was the undoing of the younger twin. His barrier of self control crumbled and tears rolled down his face. Elladan paled. What in the name of the Valar was it? He quickly embraced his distressed brother and simply held him tight.

Before he could say anything soothing, Elrohir took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Elladan. I failed you,” he sobbed.

Now it was Elladan who looked surprised. When had he failed him? Not really knowing what to say, Elladan tightened his hold on the shaking frame.

“You did not fail me; you never will.” He tried to sound reassuring, but Elrohir shook his head.

“Yes, I did. I stopped searching for you. I stopped hoping and I nearly dragged Ada and you with me into the abyss through my grief.” Elrohir´s words were now no more than wracked sobs.

Elladan loosened his hold and looked directly at his brothers red-rimmed eyes.

“Elrohir, stop this. You never failed me. Were our positions reversed, I would have reacted as you did. It was understandable. But what matters now is that we are safe and well. Please, let us forget this dreadful episode and let us look into the future. The day is much too beautiful to waste it with gloomy thoughts”.

Elrohir nodded slowly and wiped at his tears with his sleeve. “Don’t ever leave me alone again, Elladan. I love you. I cannot live without you.”

Elladan smiled. “I feel the same. Don’t worry; you cannot get rid of me that easily.” Elladan extended his hand and hoisted Elrohir to his feet, earning a displeased screech from the cat.

When the twins had left the stable, another heartfelt sigh could be heard. Elrond had followed Elladan surreptitiously, and he was glad that his sons had managed to work out their feelings over the recent events. Now the true healing could begin.

………………………………………………..

Isiwen looked up from her work in her little garden, when she heard hoof beats coming closer. She rose and looked toward the riders coming up the path leading toward the hut. Her eyes lit with joy, when she recognized the first visitor, already dismounting at the fence. Apart from the three dark-haired elves she saw that two big wagons had stopped before her little hut.

She quickly wiped the earth from her hands and then she found herself in Elladan´s arms. He whirled her easily around and kissed her cheek lightly.

“Elladan,” she cried, “I’m so glad to see you again, let me look at you, lad”.

She held the much taller elf at arm’s length and looked him up and down critically. “You are still too thin for my liking and a bit pale, but otherwise acceptable.”

Elladan laughed and looked amused at the woman who saved his life. After her welcome, he waved at Maren just emerging from the house.

“I’m also glad to see you up and hale”, he said, embracing the elf as well when he had reached them. Elladan nodded at the two elves now standing behind him and grinned when Isiwen´s eyes grew wide.

“This is my brother, Elrohir. I have brought him here to show you he is not a figment of my imagination. And my father you know already.”

Isiwen stepped toward Elrohir and looked at him in awe. She could not detect any sign that distinguished him from his brother.

“Well…anyway,” she sighed, embracing the younger twin too. “I’m glad to meet you at last. And I never thought you were a figment of Elladan’s imagination.

Elrohir inclined his head. “My Lady, the pleasure is mine to meet the two people who rescued my brother. I’ve heard so much of you.”

Isiwen blushed. “Enough”, she declared and smiled. Then she greeted the Elf-Lord. “Welcome again, my Lord.”

Still smiling Elrond inclined his head.

Maren made an all inviting gesture. “Please, come inside, we’ve just made tea and Isiwen makes the best honey cakes this side of the mountains.”

Elrond looked into his sons pleading eyes, he surrendered and smiled.

“Very well, but first I would like to show you something,” he said and gestured at the two heavily laden wagons, the elves had brought with them. Isiwen and Maren looked at each other and followed the Elf-Lord.

Reaching the wagons the Elf-Lord turned and looked solemnly at the human couple. “Isiwen, Maren, with the loads of these two wagons, I want to thank you for your help in rescuing my son. Please accept these gifts and if you ever need anything, you have but to ask.”

Isiwen and Maren stared speechless at the wagons, as Elrohir unfolded the tarps covering them. They saw building lumber, saplings, plants, earth, seeds, clothing, shoes and many other items they needed urgently for the oncoming winter.

With tears in her eyes Isiwen looked at the Elf-Lord. “My Lord, I don’t know what to say, but this was not necessary. Our help was given without thought for reward.”

Elrond nodded. “Yes, and that is exactly the reason why we brought this. I will always be in your debt.”

Maren swallowed. “Thank you. We gladly accept this, because we are in dire need. I will unload quickly, so that you can be on your way soon.”

When Maren started to help Elrohir unload, Elrond raised his hand. “Don’t hurry the wagons and horses are included.”

Now Maren was struck speechless. Isiwen simply embraced the Elf-Lord, not able to say anything either.

Three hours and many honey cakes later the three elves mounted their horses and said their farewells.

“Please visit us, after the winter. You will always be welcome at Rivendell,” Elladan said after he had mounted.

“We will come, we promise,” Isiwen answered. They stood side by side, until the elves were out of sight.

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

At approximately the same time, two Elf-Lords entered the town of Adlen. Glorfindel and Erestor were not intimidated by the hostile atmosphere of this little town. With regal bearing and with their heads held high they rode through the streets, their faces a perfect mask not showing their feelings.

During their swift ride here, Glorfindel had told Erestor all about what had happened to Elladan and what the traitorous mayor had done with the supplies regularly sent here.

Erestor had only inhaled sharply and agreed to accompany the Balrog-slayer. With the twins still too weak to travel; and hardly recovered enough to face this confrontation, Elrond was grateful that his advisors had volunteered to settle matters and deal out justice in a way that had not yet been decided.

When the two elves dismounted at the courtyard, a young man ran toward them waving. “Lord Glorfindel,” he called. “I’m Baran, son of Alan, the old man you met at your first visit. Remember?”

Inclining his head Glorfindel nodded. “Yes, I remember your father. I would very much like to speak with him.”

When the lad swallowed and lowered his eyes Glorfindel momentarily closed his eyes. After the encounter with Elrohir the warrior had dreaded that something would happen to the old man. The golden-haired elf laid a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“What happened, Baran?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, yet he already guessed the answer.

“He’s dead,” the young man whispered, now fighting with his tears. “They killed him after you left. We are all so afraid. Are you here to help us?” the boy asked hopefully.

Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged a quick glance. This was not the way they had intended to interfere here. How deeply could they get involved in the business of these people?

Aware that the young man was still waiting for an answer, Glorfindel squeezed the youngster’s shoulder reassuringly. “We will see,” he said evasively with a side-glance at his companion.

Knowing that this was not what the boy had wanted to hear judging by the disappointed expression on his face; Glorfindel turned abruptly and strode toward the entrance of the main-hall. Erestor was right behind him.

When he had mounted the steps and almost reached the entrance; he unsheathed his sword, making his intentions clear to the two guards standing there guarding the door. The two exchanged a quick look and opened the heavy wooden door to let the elves pass.

Erestor and Glorfindel hurried down the long corridor their cloaks billowing behind them; their elven glow illuminating the dimly lit hallway. When they had reached their destination they heard a cry of pain from inside the mayor’s office. They stopped only briefly and then forcefully pushed the double door open, swords drawn.

Glorfindel froze momentarily when he saw Harad, the mayor’s son beating a young man, already lying on the floor bleeding. The Mayer stood there with crossed arms; seemingly enjoying the cruel display. All his self restraint snapped when Glorfindel imagined this could have been Elladan. He stepped forward and shoved the sturdy man away from the helpless victim on the floor. With a thud the man impacted with the wall.

Before Harad could recover, Glorfindel moved quickly and placed the tip of his sword on the man’s throat. “I wouldn’t move, if I were you,” he said calmly.

Erestor had made quick work of the mayor and pinned him on the wall next to his son in the same fashion.

Before however the two elves could decide how to go on; chaos erupted around them. Through a side door stormed a mob of men, all eager to lay their hands on the ones who had terrorized their town. At the other side of the room there appeared a group of guards, coming to the mayor’s aid.

Glorfindel gave his captive over to Erestor for safekeeping. He knew his friend could easily handle the two of them. Glorfindel engaged the oncoming guards who were no match for the trained warrior. At the same time he prevented the townspeople from getting to the two captives.

Glorfindel´s head jerked up when another door banged open and a loud yell could be heard.

“Stop this madness immediately!” a middle-aged man demanded.

The fighting stopped and all faces were drawn to the newcomer. Glorfindel and Erestor saw more men coming into the room, this time they were armed.

“Drop your weapons.” The man told the surprised guards and they complied seeing that they were clearly outnumbered. Some of the newcomers took the guards away and others turned toward the elves and their captives.

The leader of the resistance came toward the elves and bowed respectfully.

“My name is Calen,” the leader stated. “From now on the mayor and his son are no longer in charge of this town. I’ve heard what they did to one of your people and I’m sorry. They will be judged and sentenced according to our laws. The punishment will be appropriate for the crimes they committed.”

Glorfindel nodded to the man. “We are glad to hear this. Are you the one that the people will look to in the future, Calen?”

“The people must decide that, but if they agree with me, then yes. I will make right, what these two have wronged.”

Seeing the authority of the newcomer, how he handled the situation, and the men loyal to him, Glorfindel and Erestor relaxed and re-sheathed their swords. They allowed the new guards to take away the mayor and his son.

“I think our mission here is finished then. I hope we can come to a new agreement in our relations soon.” Erestor said.

Calen shifted his gaze from Glorfindel to Erestor, not knowing whom he should address.

“This I hope too. I will send a messenger once the circumstances here are settled.”

“Good,” Glorfindel said. “We will be on our way and wish you well. May the Valar look kindly upon this town.”

Calen bowed too. “Thank you for your generosity, we wish you a safe journey home.”

After leaving the town the two elves had not spared a glance back, and returning swiftly back the way they had come, they reached Rivendell before nightfall. Everything was finally back to normal. They both hoped it would stay that way.

The end

Many thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing. Lai