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:

As always many thanks to my beta reader Erulisse.

Summary:

Elrond thought that after the abduction of his wife and her departure there could be no increase in sorrow – he was sorely mistaken…….

Rating: PG-13

Chapter 1:  sorrow, sorrow everywhere

Elrond’s POV:

I walked beneath the trees of my beloved home, yet their rustling did not calm me as they once had. The sun streaming down with a gentle light held no warmth for me. The colours of the flowers and the green of the grass seemed grey and the air smelled stale.

Many years had passed since my beloved wife passed into the West. Men said that the sorrow would diminish in time, yet I felt that was only a fortune of the second-born. My sorrow had increased, not decreased. While I kept a tight rein on my emotions, I had to be cautious not to let anyone recognize how desolate my soul had become.

During the first years after her departure, I was really under the impression that I was coping with the loss. But my heart felt empty.

I had talked myself into believing it would get better with time, that the lonely nights would become more bearable and that my forced calm exterior would become less arduous to maintain over the years. Today, however, I knew that I had betrayed myself every day.

Today all my emotions had surfaced with a force I was unable to repel. My tedious wall of self-control blew away in seconds and my desolate inner life was laid bare for all to see.

This I could not accept. It clearly showed what a façade I had presented over the years and how I had betrayed the trust all had bestowed upon me. My shame over my inability to bring my life back under control was too great. Therefore I decided to leave this world via the only way the Powers had granted the firstborn.

Already hearing a voice shouting my name with high irritation, I sank into the soft grass and closed my eyes with a sigh. I relinquished my hold on the world, on sanity and on all that had ever connected me with Arda. I could no longer hear the hurried footsteps.

……………………………………….

Glorfindel´s POV:

With dread, I watched the Lord of Imladris walk past me, a strange blank look on his face. He did not even recognize me as he hurried out of the house. With quick strides, he crossed the front porch and was soon out of my sight after rounding a cluster of bushes.

This would not have been upsetting for me, had there not been the dramatic events from the evening before.

Nearly 300 years have passed since Celebrían was attacked on her way back home from visiting her parents. Shortly after her ordeal, she had left us to find healing in the West.

On that day joy and laughter had left with her. Elrond, the one elf I had sworn to protect by charge of the Valar, had blamed himself for his inability to heal her. While he repaired the bodily damage done to her without great problem, he was unable to heal the illness of her mind.

Long had we denied the insight that true healing would only come to her in the Blessed Realm. Even if this decision had hit all of us like a blow, it was the hardest for Arwen.

Arwen was much too young to understand why her beloved mother, one of the foundations of her life, would no longer be with her. Every day she had talked herself into believing that her mother was doing better, yet the signs of fading, clear for all of us to see, could not be recognized by the youngster.

I still shudder when I think back at the moment when Elrond had announced that Celebrían would leave for the West at the next opportunity.

With an ashen face and a thin voice, the healer had bid me, Erestor, the boys and Arwen to gather before breakfast. He needed to speak to us privately. Instantly I had known what his message would be and had braced my soul against the grief already assailing me.

While Erestor and I had accepted the message that Celebrían would leave us with mastered self-control, Arwen had sprung up and shouted at her father. She ranted that he had not done enough to make her Nanneth better and that he was just tired of having her around, among other accusations. Elrond had suffered the emotional outburst without any outward reaction, even when Arwen had pounded her fists against his chest lost in hysterical sobs and screams. He did nothing to stop her or to comfort her.

Erestor had finally grabbed the wrists of the youngster, turned her around and pressed her face against his shoulder, but not without sending an irritated look at his Lord. This should have been his role, yet Elrond had stood immobile.

From the corner of my eye, I had observed the twins and their reactions; or rather the lack of one. This had worried me even more.

While Elladan had only snorted in disgust and left the room in a rush, Elrohir had looked at his father as if he was a stranger. He had not said a word, only cried without making a sound.

Years had passed after Celebrían´s departure and never had the former ease returned to the House. Arwen had left for the Golden Wood, no longer able to suffer the gloom and the lingering grief in her home.

The twins had vented their sorrow by riding out day after day, killing orcs whenever the chance arose. Often they trailed the brutes, following them into their dens and slaying them until every orc had breathed its last.

For 300 long years Elrond and I had prayed every day that their superior fighting skills would again serve them and bring them back home to us unscathed. Many times our prayers went unheard.

They had sustained many wounds, some grievous, some not, and Elrond treated each one. Every time he had begged his sons to not ride out again, and every time they had pushed their father back, unhearing his pleas. They were living with never-ending hatred which was eating away their souls.

Throughout these years the Lord of Imladris had endured, his children had become unreachable for him. Never, not even once, had he complained until the events of the previous evening.

To be continued………………..

Chapter 2:  darkness, nothing but darkness

The Lord of Imladris, his seneschal and councillor were sitting in the main office working silently. Each was responsible for certain aspects of Imladris.

Winter was on their doorstep and it was necessary to assess which items still needed to be stored or purchased, and which were still awaiting harvest or processing before the upcoming cold season.

Although the healer was working quietly and seemed focused, Glorfindel did not miss his friend's occasional glance out the large window. Sending a guarded look at Erestor, Glorfindel received a raised eyebrow followed by a deep frown as his response.

Over three months had passed since Elrond’s sons had again ridden out on their self-appointed mission to hunt down as many orcs as they could get within reach of their swords. On their last visit they had only stayed long enough for Elrond to cure a long and deep cut on Elrohir's left thigh. The bandaged wound was in the final stages of healing when they had prepared to leave again.

This time their father had not even tried to hold them back. He had not said a word as they had loaded their horses with provisions at first light. With an expressionless face, he had stood at the front entrance of the Last Homely House to see them off. Only after a stern glare from Glorfindel had Elrohir returned and hugged his father briefly with a whispered farewell. Elladan had only re-checked the rebound hilt of his sword. He did not look back while his brother was mounting beside him.

The sun had not fully risen when the brothers had galloped out of the courtyard and started up the steep incline of the valley path.

Contrary to many other departures, Elrond had not waited until his sons had passed from sight. As soon as they had crossed the lawn he had turned and strode inside.

Glorfindel knew that the pain in his Lord’s heart was growing with every departure, nurtured by the fear that one day their fighting skills would not be sufficient. Elrond feared that they would be unable to return home or that one of his sons would return dead or bearing a fatal wound.

They never knew how long the twins would stay away, how long it would take them to vent their anger, or when they would become weary enough in mind and body to return home. The fear that one day they would not return at all was getting overwhelming.

Three months was an exceptionally long time; never before had they stayed away for such duration.

Even if he had understood their behaviour, Glorfindel was nonetheless angry with the youths, mostly because of the manner in which they treated their father. Although it was unintentional, he was often the target of their anger.

All peaked on this evening when hoof beats were heard nearing the courtyard. Impulsively, Elrond jerked up from his chair but instantly caught himself. As so often of late, they would not appreciate being welcomed back home.

Glorfindel rose also and walked toward the great window. Illuminated by torches to the left and right of the great entrance he could see the brothers dismount and head straight to their cottage near the main house.

For more than fifty years now the twins resided in their rooms in the larger house only occasionally; usually visiting the house just for a meal or to restock their provisions. Apart from being regular guests in the infirmary, they had become rare visitors to their father’s home. It was one more rejection for the healer.

Just as Glorfindel thought they would again wordlessly vanish into their new home Elladan suddenly stopped, causing his brother to nearly bump into him.

After an irritated glance from Elrohir and a short but heated dispute, Elladan turned and strode toward the Last Homely House. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes only now realizing that the older twin carried a large burlap bag slung over his shoulder. After glaring at his brother’s retreating back Elrohir followed Elladan inside the house.

“I will see if cook is still awake,” Elrond said and Glorfindel turned surprised that the Half-elf had joined him at the window. Again, the dark-haired elf was accepting his sons’ attitudes without reacting outwardly. Glorfindel wondered how long his friend would master his pent-up emotions.

However, before the three Elf-lords could react in any way the door to the office opened abruptly with a hard shove that caused it to bang loudly against the wall. Elladan stormed into the room without looking around him, closely followed by an agitated Elrohir.

Before Glorfindel could even guess the meaning of their intrusion, Elladan had pulled the bag from his shoulder, jerked the strap open and dumped the contents of the sack onto the floor.

With a dull thud the blood splattered head of an orc hit and rolled on the floor stopping only inches before the healer’s feet. While Erestor had sprung up with an indignant gasp, Elrond did not react. His gaze was focused on his son, even if Glorfindel was sure the healer had seen what had been dropped onto the floor.

The imperturbable gaze of his father caused Elrohir to lower his eyes but Elladan looked at his father challengingly.

“Here’s the one responsible for torturing Nana. Look into his eyes Ada. Are they not dead now?”

The older twin’s voice was shrill and did not sound like the voice of a sane mind. While the healer closed his eyes Glorfindel looked at the young elf aghast.

Even if the legend that orcs had once been elves was true, they were not immortal. This dead orc could not have been responsible for the abduction of the Elven-lady. Had Elladan already lost his mind?

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, fighting to hold onto his restraint. Whether the older twin meant his exclamation as a joke or if his mind was clouded, Glorfindel realized that first he had to protect his lord from further shock. Elladan had to be put in his place.

As quick as lightening, he crossed the room and grabbed the youngster by his arm. His iron grip made the young elf wince and glare at the warrior.

“Turn around, Elrondion and leave this room before I forget myself.”

The threatening tone and the flashing eyes only briefly intimidated the older twin. Pulling his arm free with a jerk Elladan turned and strode from the room followed closely by Elrohir. Neither brother spared another look at their father.

Elrond had turned and grabbed his desk for support. His breaths came in short gasps.

Erestor had collected the orc's head and stuffed it back into the sack. The seneschal had barely tied the cord around the opening when Glorfindel ripped it from his hands.

“That’s for me. Please look after him,” he said with a nod toward Elrond. “I will be back shortly.”

Not waiting for a confirmation Glorfindel strode from the room. The sack tightly clutched in his hand he strode along the corridor, down the great staircase and through the wide entrance hall.

With a jerk, he yanked the front door open and left the house without bothering to close the door. After crossing the front porch, he veered to the left and heeded straight toward the cottage the brothers had chosen as their domicile.

Without hesitation he pushed the door open forcefully. Elrohir, the door handle still in his hand, was thrown against the wall behind him. Before the younger twin had any chance to jump back to his feet Glorfindel had crossed the room. He grabbed Elladan by his shoulders forcing him around, so that the older twin was held tightly, his back against the warrior's chest, one arm twisted upward in a painful hold. The sack had been dumped onto the table.

“What do you think you are doing?” he shouted forcing the young elf to wince while twisting his arm even harder. “Have you completely lost your mind? I have always protected and respected you, but today you have crossed a line that I cannot and will not accept. Come to your senses. This will be the last time you have treated your father so disrespectfully. I will not tolerate another attempt.”

With this, the warrior released the older twin, pushing him away with an angry glare. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Elrohir had stood back on his feet and was following the scene with wide eyes. A quick warning glare froze the younger twin in his place.

Yet if Glorfindel thought that Elladan had given up, he was sorely mistaken. Using the momentum from the push, the young elf whirled around and attacked. In that moment the gleam in Elladan´s eyes was alien and no longer rational. Glorfindel swallowed. It was what Elrond had feared. His sons had lost their souls to the darkness.

Glorfindel crouched into a defensive stance and before Elladan could reach him he landed a forceful punch to the younger elf’s face knocking him unconscious.

“No!” Elrohir had cried and sprung forward to come to his brother’s aid, yet like his brother before him, he was shoved back with a mighty push.

“Stay where you are, Elrohir,” Glorfindel growled not allowing any room for interruptions. Torn between the wish to help his brother and the fear of aggravating Glorfindel further, Elrohir held his position.

Re-directing his attention Glorfindel knelt beside the older twin and gently brushed a strand of hair out of the familiar face. A bruise was already blooming where his fist had hit.

“Care for your brother and inform me when he wakes, but stay away from the house,” Glorfindel said. Elrohir instantly knew that this was no mere wish, but rather, a clear command.

Without looking at his mentor, he lifted the limp body of his brother and placed him on the bed.

“And get rid of this abomination, at once!” the warrior said pointing at the sack on the table.

Glorfindel left without another word not bothering to close the door behind him. Angrily Elrohir pushed the door closed with his boot.

To be continued…………….

Chapter 3:  picking up the pieces

Oh brother I can’t, I can’t get through.

I’ve been trying hard to reach you ´cause I don’t know what to do.

Oh brother I can´t believe it’s true.

I’m so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you.

Oh I wanna talk to you.

Nothing’s really making any sense at all. Let’s talk, let’s talk, let’s talk….

“Talk” by Coldplay

Elrohir gently wiped a cool cloth over his brother’s face. Half an hour had passed since Glorfindel had left. Elladan was still unconscious, the punch had hit true.

For long years Elrohir had supported his brother, had even used the same excuse as Elladan to hunt down the orcs: that of taking revenge for their mother. He had denied that this would have been the last thing his mother had wished for him - for them. Yet, as it was for Elladan, it was a welcomed means to vent his helpless anger and his overwhelming grief.

However, over the years the pain had not lessened, instead it had increased. He could find no satisfaction in killing another of these brutes. It brought him no closer to his wish to forget, to shed all of his dark thoughts. He was losing himself and feared that one day he would give up the very essence of his being.

Over the years he had tried to persuade Elladan to abandon their hunt; to return home and make peace with their father. But Elladan never listened. Their disputes always ended the same. Elladan pushed him away, accusing him of being a traitor and accepting that the dark side had won. His brother had made it clear. He would continue with or without his assistance. Elrohir relented every time, unwilling to be parted from his beloved brother. He would follow him even to death, a fact that Elladan knew clearly.

Elladan always cooled down, and then he apologized and cried like a child as the brothers embraced. Elrohir assured him that he would forgive his selfish behaviour and an odd, tenuous peace settled between them again.

But over the last ten years Elrohir had remained silent, saying nothing. He knew that his brother had to see reason on his own before he could be persuaded. Elrohir hoped that this day would come before they lost themselves to bloodlust and malice.

He hadn't known what Elladan´s intentions were this time, and it had slipped his notice that his brother had kept the orc's head and carried it into their home. If he had known what Elladan had been planning, he would surely have stopped him. Glorfindel was right. This time Elladan had crossed a line.

Elrohir closed his eyes in anguish when he remembered the look on his father’s face. Elrond's expression of utter shock and resignation would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He settled in a chair next to the bed and waited for Elladan to wake. His brother would be furious but he would make sure that Elladan would not confront Glorfindel again in anger. Even if the warrior had demanded to be informed, Elladan had to cool down first.

………………………………………………….

After Glorfindel rounded a cluster of bushes, he stopped to take a deep breath. The confrontation with the twins had unnerved him. He loved the youngsters as if they were his own sons and he would die for them, yet as with all children, they had to be reprimanded when doing something wrong. What Elladan had done was certainly in this category and was going far beyond anything tolerable. Glorfindel would not back down from this talk, but first he had to look after Elrond.

The expression on the Half-elf’s face had disturbed him. Since Celebrían´s departure the Elf-lord was wounded, yet because he was a perfect actor he was no one had seen behind the façade.

Glorfindel counted himself a keen observer and so he had glimpsed shreds of the desolate soul behind the mask, but never had Elrond let him come near enough to dictate how he could help. Glorfindel had long feared that a breakdown was imminent and felt that the passage of time had not eased this state.

The love and care for his children was one of the few anchors that kept the Elf-lord in this world. The departure of Arwen and the self-destructive ways of the twins had shaken the healer’s mental foundation to a state where even a small incident would be sufficient to tip the balance. Glorfindel feared that his sons’ behaviour might have finally pushed the Elf-lord over the rim.

So he was surprised at seeing Elrond and Erestor sitting before the hearth in comfortable chairs talking quietly. For several moments Glorfindel kept standing in the door listening to the discussion.

Contrary to his assumption Elrond and Erestor were talking over trivialities as if nothing had happened. The warrior narrowed his eyes. Was this a tactic of Erestor to take the mind of the Elf-lord off the topic? Glorfindel´s frown deepened. Elrond would instantly recognize such a maneuver and he seldom reacted kindly when being manipulated.

Just then, Elrond looked up.

“Glorfindel come and join us. Take my seat; I’m off for bed anyway.”

The healer rose from his seat and did not even give his councillor a chance to respond. With a nod of his head, first toward Erestor and then Glorfindel, he gathered his long robes and quickly walked out of the room.

“Elrond, please wait!” Glorfindel called after the Elf-lord, yet the healer did not slow his pace. Instead, he hurried up the steps until the sound of a closing door was heard.

Just as Glorfindel turned to go after his friend, Erestor caught his arm and stopped him.

“Maybe we should give him some peace…,” he started but stopped at the uncomprehending look Glorfindel was giving him.

“Erestor,” Glorfindel retorted not bothering to turn around fully. “We cannot leave him alone, not after what happened. Nothing is alright. He is acting a role again.”

Irritated Erestor increased the hold on the other elf’s arm.

“I’m not blind, Glorfindel, yet I think we should give him some space. A few minutes ago he was talking with me and he appeared perfectly normal.”

Glorfindel freed his arm with a jerk.

“Erestor, he is fooling us and I fear that he will do something imprudent.”

Erestor raised an eyebrow. In all the years he had been serving the Elf-lord he had never seen him doing something rash or inconsiderate.

“These are not normal circumstances, Erestor,” Glorfindel hissed as if he had read the other’s mind. But then he seemed to reconsider. Elrond had retired to his rooms. What bad things could happen to him there?

Still, harm to the mind could be much worse then to the body and wasn't dependent upon place. "I will keep watch over him tonight and talk with the twins again in the morning," Glorfindel declared.

“Then I will be on guard with you, my friend,” Erestor replied softly and took his former seat in front of the hearth. Glorfindel actually smiled. Together they would make sure that nothing would befall the three Half-elves at least this night.

Neither Erestor nor Glorfindel could know how they would fail.

……………………………………

Elladan stuffed his clothing into his travel bag not caring whether they were crumpled or not. Elrohir did not need to look at the stiff posture of his brother to know that his twin was angry.

Not two hours earlier, Elladan had awakened with a headache brought about by Glorfindel's fist. He had barely opened his eyes before he had sprung up from the bed.

With long strides he had just reached the door when he stopped suddenly, grabbing for the handle. Elrohir was beside him in a flash, grabbing him before dizziness caused him to fall.

“Silly! Give your body time to catch up to your brain, even if I doubt it is working right now!” Elrohir cried out.

Elladan let himself be helped to a chair but directed a dark glare at his brother.

“Stop pampering me, Elrohir, I’m no child. Glorfindel would do well to heed this also!”

Elrohir whirled around stopping pouring a glass of water.

“Then stop acting like a child. Your stunt in Ada´s office last night was not smart. Glorfindel had every right to be furious with you.

“If I had only known… ”

The younger twin suddenly stopped, closing his eyes. He staggered back and gripped the edge of the table.

Feeling the anguish of his brother Elladan looked up, irritated. Narrowing his eyes he nonetheless jumped up and rushed to his brother’s side. Images of their father’s shocked face flooded through their bond and Elladan knew instantly what had unsettled his brother. But contrary to his expectations, Elrohir shrugged the comforting hand off his shoulder.

“Leave me alone,” Elrohir shouted. “Glorfindel ordered me to inform him when you are awake and I will do so now. Do me one favour and cool down. Do not make it worse than it already is.”

Elrohir had not turned and did not see his brother’s flashing eyes.

Before he had a chance to open the door Elladan had moved in front of him and was blocking his access by leaning against the wood.

“You will do nothing. I am leaving now, with or without you. It’s your choice. I’m fed up with everyone around telling me what to do.”

Without another word or glance Elladan yanked the door open, shifted his bag onto his back, and left the cottage striding out into the early morning.

“Fine,” Elrohir cried out to his brother before he slammed the door shut. He pressed both palms against his forehead to get his frustration under control. He was fighting to hold his tears in check. Elladan had done it again. He was resuming his hunt and was leaving him with the decision to stay or follow.

Every time his twin left, it was harder to let him go. Yet he knew how impulsive Elladan was and every time he followed, fearing that if he didn't, his brother would not return. Elladan had become reckless and imprudent over the years and without him watching his back, Elrohir was sure that Elladan would one day fall, a victim to his hate and anger.

Knowing that he would never forgive himself if Elladan was killed without him by his side, Elrohir crossed the room and threw his clothing and a few personal things into his travel bag.

With a last look around he donned his cloak and hastened out of the house. Relieved, he registered that it was just pre-dawn. They would sneak out of the valley like thieves to avoid confronting Glorfindel.

His conscience raised up against this decision, yet what other option was left to him … again? He could not let his brother go alone, and to force Elladan to confront Glorfindel right now was not an option any more.

With a last look at his home he saw that the window of his father’s bedroom was dark. Maybe he had found some sleep after all? “Forgive me, Ada,” he whispered before he vanished into the dark, lowering his head and continuing on to the stables.

He never saw his father’s tear-filled eyes behind the curtain as he followed their departure.

To be continued……………………

 Chapter 4:  downfall

Glorfindel had just emerged from the Hall of Fire, closing the door silently, as Elrond had rushed past him. Before the warrior could call out to his friend the Elf-lord had vanished around a corner and shortly after that had left the house.

Glorfindel suspected that he knew what this hurried departure meant. He and Erestor had kept watch throughout the night. He had even hovered at the Half-elf’s bedroom two times, listening to discern if something unusual was happening behind the closed doors. But either Elrond had been asleep or so very quiet that he had heard nothing.

Obviously, the healer had fooled them again. After the quiet night, the warrior had hoped that the Half-elf had calmed down and would be ready for a clarifying talk. However, this had been another erroneous belief.

Glorfindel took only one glimpse at the healer’s face to know that Elrond was not in his right mind. Without further thought, he hastened after the Half-elf, ignoring the irritated looks that followed the two elves as they rushed past.

He had just crossed the front porch and rounded a cluster of bushes when he knew that he would be too late. The healer had stopped in the middle of the lawn closed his eyes and collapsed onto the grass. Glorfindel broke into a full run but he could not reach his friend before he hit the ground.

He skidded to a halt, falling to his knees beside Elrond. Carefully he pillowed the healer’s head in his lap, looking sharply at the ashen face of the elf. Elrond’s eyes were tightly closed and his muscles were relaxed.

“No, Elrond, no!” Glorfindel whispered in a choked voice. He recognized this state. The healer was fading; he had relinquished his hold on life. His fea was fleeing his body because his mind was no longer able to suffer through the anguish.

Glorfindel rocked Elrond's limp body back and forth, pouring as much life energy as he could spare into his friend's devastated soul. He prayed to every Valar listening that they would not grant the healer’s wish to leave this world.

Although he continued this process, he suspected that he would not be successful. The years of Elrond's pent-up grief had finally found a vent and he knew he was not powerful enough to prevent the process happening beneath his very hands.

He did not look up when elves begun to gather around them knowing that not even one of Imladris´ famous healers would be able to help. They had to reach Elrond's mind, to talk to his fea and convince it that life was still worth living and that would be an almost impossible task.

Glorfindel was becoming desperate as he felt the bond connecting Elrond’s fea with his body grow thinner by the minute. He looked up when he felt a familiar presence at the edge of his consciousness.

“Erestor please fetch the twins. Only they may be able to call their father back.” He whispered, even though he was sure that every bystander was aware of what had happened to their Lord.

Erestor only nodded and after straightening he ran down the path toward the brothers’ cottage.

Glorfindel raised his eyes again when he felt someone kneel next to him already extending a hand to touch the Half-elf’s body. Tinár, Elrond’s head healer said nothing, only silently assessed the situation.

“We should bring him inside,” the healer announced but stopped his examination when Glorfindel shook his head.

“Any place is as good as this. He is surely not feeling anything right now. Erestor is already fetching the boys and I do not want to lose time.”

Tinár nodded even if he did not entirely share the warrior´s opinion. Although the many gathered elves meant well and their whispered comments expressed their anguish, it was always best to shield the patient from an audience even if they were as compassionate as this.

While Glorfindel kept his gaze fixed on the fallen healer Tinár directed his gaze toward the cottage Erestor had just reached, willing the councillor to go faster.

He wondered why the twins had not already appeared on their own. They must have felt what was happening to their father and they could not have ignored the commotion occurring just in front of their doorstep.

Just as Tinár thought that too much time had already passed by, the door to the cottage opened and Erestor rushed from the hut. Tinár frowned when he could not glimpse either of his Lord’s sons. He had expected the twins to be following and running toward them.

Before he could think further about where the brothers were, Erestor had reached them.

“They are not in the cottage. Their travel bags and cloaks are also missing. Glorfindel, I fear they left again last night,” Erestor informed them with a quiet voice.

Glorfindel looked up sharply for a second. Then he looked around the elves gathered around the little group.

“Someone please check if Elrond’s sons are still somewhere on the grounds.”

Two elves immediately departed heading for the stables. Tinár was sure that the twins had already left to resume their hunt, even before they received confirmation that their horses were gone.

Glorfindel tried to quiet his fraying nerves. Even if he knew that the recent bad behaviour of the twins had caused the Elf-lord´s breakdown, he was also sure that they could not rescue the healer without his sons´ presence. While all elves had a very strong connection to their children, Elrond´s bond with his sons and daughter was central to his existence.

Elrond’s childhood had been formed from loss and disappointment, flight and destruction. He had always been determined to give his children a loving home and to provide them with all the attention and compassion he could give.

The healer had been deeply affected when his beloved children had turned away from him in his hour of need. Arwen had gone to live with her grandparents, the ever-present grief at her home finally no longer endurable for her. Her brothers had become rare visitors at a home where they could no longer find peace.

For three hundred years the Half-elf´s soul had silently endured until last night when his desperate hold on sanity had snapped.

Glorfindel was angry, mostly at himself. He should have known that something like that would happen. The healer had never really grieved and had buried himself in work trying to fill the hole in his soul. Yet, while denying the depth of his sorrow, he had been ever moving closer and closer to the state he had fallen into today.

“Let us bring him inside,” Tinár tried again to persuade the warrior. Glorfindel was staring without focus and the healer feared that if he did not react quickly his patients would have doubled.

Contrary to his fears however, Glorfindel was very alert. After looking up, he nodded.

Before he could stand, the two elves who had been looking for the twins returned.

“My Lord,” one of them panted, “Lord Elrond’s sons are definitely no longer on the grounds. A forester, living further down the Bruinen told me that he had seen them leave just before dawn.”

Glorfindel thanked the elf. He had expected nothing else. If the twins had been around somewhere they would already have appeared. But had not he forbidden them to come near the house? Angrily he shook his head. Nothing could be changed now.

He stood, carefully lifting Elrond's limp body in his arms. He briefly wondered at how light his friend suddenly was. Yet another fact he should have noticed much earlier.

Without another glance around Glorfindel started toward the house followed by Tinár. The gathered elves slowly dispersed but not without sending worried gazes after their Lord.

To be continued……………………..

 Chapter 5:  insight

Elrohir tossed and turned in his bedroll but could not find sleep.

 Earlier, he and Elladan had cleared out a large orc den at the foot of the hills just west of the path finally leading into Imladris if someone knew where to look. Again and again travellers in that area had been attacked and the two warriors had suspected that a large hideout had to exist nearby.

Even though they had saved the lives of many future travellers, Elrohir felt no satisfaction. In fact, he felt empty, cold and alone. Elladan had killed the orcs with great vigour, and had been nearly hysterical with joy when looking at the massacre afterward. However, he no longer shared his brother’s feelings; in fact, he hadn't for a long time.

Elladan had drifted away from him – both emotionally and mentally. Now he was seldom able to reach his brother’s fea and he missed the feeling of knowing that they were close not only in body but also in mind.

After less than ten hours had gone by after they had calmed themselves from the successful ambush, he had again tried to persuade Elladan to abandon their hunt. He urged him to finally let go of his hate and find peace again. Elladan had not even argued with him, as he always had in the past, he had only glared at him and walked away.

Elrohir had no strength remaining to go after his brother. He refused to leave him but could not follow him. He kept his senses alert, but Elladan had to calm down first – as always.

Elrohir kindled a fire and chewed on a piece of dried meat. With worried eyes, he constantly scanned the dark wood and waited for Elladan´s return. Shortly after midnight he decided to lie down.

Elladan could look after himself. If something happened to his brother, he would know. Some time later he awakened and immediately looked toward the other bedroll. Relieved, he realized that Elladan had returned and was sleeping soundly. One less load to worry about, he thought as he turned over, but he could not return to sleep.

He suddenly jerked upright, wide awake, panting heavily to get the stabbing pain in his heart under control. After rubbing his eyes he directed an irritated glance at his brother. Normally he had feelings of this kind only if Elladan had been injured or was in great danger, but his brother was still sleeping soundly.

There was only one other person he shared such a close connection with. He stilled his thoughts to look inward and realized, horrified, that the bond with his father was diminishing.

With a cry of anguish he sprang up and leaned against a nearby tree to get his sudden dizziness under control. What could possibly have happened? They had only left yesterday and all had seemed well with his father.

A bitter laugh escaped him despite the still present pain. Their family was anything but healthy, and Elladan´s behaviour of two nights before had surely done nothing to improve the situation. Could it be …? He could barely contemplate the horrible thought sneaking into his consciousness.

His cry had awakened Elladan. His brother jumped up, his sword pulled and already in hand.

“What?” was his only word until his eyes focused on Elrohir. With a nearly disgusted snort he re-sheathed his sword.

“What is it this time, Elrohir?” he asked already plopping back on the ground.

Elrohir, still fighting to breathe though the pain, looked at his brother incredulously. It was not enough that Elladan was not coming to his aid; he had not even opened their bond to discover what was assailing him.

The hurt over Elladan´s reaction was adding to his pain. Elrohir turned and ran away from their campsite into the forest until his lungs burned and tears blurred his vision. With a sob he sank to the ground, pulling into himself and shutting out the outside world.

……………………………………

Seeing Elrohir turn in anguish snapped a cord within Elladan. He blinked, as if he was coming out of a haze, still not really understanding why his brother was running away from him. Shaking his head, he slowly, hesitantly, opened his bond. He was immediately overwhelmed by the feelings coming his way.

Elladan was hit by pain, anguish, sorrow and devastation. He sprang up from his bedroll, only to fall to the ground again, face first. Nearly paralyzed he remained prone for several long moments, panting hard.

His thoughts whirled in confusion and guilt. How could he have shut out his brother in such a manner? Elrohir was the other half of his soul, his soul mate. For long years he had hidden behind a wall he had made of grief and anger, pretending that only his wish for revenge was driving him forward. He had denied his secret desire - that the pleas of Elrohir to abandon their destructive way of life were exactly what his heart also yearned for.

Somehow he found it impossible to open himself or let his brother come near. He felt it would have been a confession of his own failures of being unable to protect his mother and then not taking adequate revenge in retaliation for her punishment. Now it was too late. He had driven away the only person who loved him the way he was.

Mustering all his strength he stood, his anguish showing in his shaking legs. Where had Elrohir gone? Recovering his sword he wiped the tears from his face, determined to reach his brother before something happened for which he would never forgive himself.

“Elrohir?” he called out, but he was not surprised when he got no answer. Abandoning this senseless endeavour he did the one thing as natural to him as breathing. He opened his bond fully and searched on a level only few could even contemplate.

He braced himself again as a rush of emotions reached him. They were confused, jumbled and disoriented. His lips compressed into a thin line Elladan trudged away from their camp. He was determined to mend the trust that he had shattered. He pushed down his fear that there was nothing left to rescue.

Following the emotions coming through their bond like a beacon in the night he nearly stumbled over the curled body cowering behind a fallen tree.

“Elrohir!” he breathed while falling to his knees. With a shaking hand he carefully turned his brother over and swallowed hard when he gazed at the waxen face smeared with tear stains.

“Elrohir, forgive me,” he whispered as he pulled the limp body to his chest. “Please wake up brother. I’m here now,” Elladan pleaded while constantly watching their surroundings. He would not let any harm come near them. When Elrohir did not react, Elladan again opened his bond and expressed his apology with more then just words.

Elrohir finally opened his eyes and the brothers looked at one another for a long moment. When Elrohir did not speak, Elladan took a deep breath.

“Elrohir, I’m sorry. I’m deeply sorry for all the sorrow I've caused you….” Elladan stopped when Elrohir lowered his eyes and pushed himself away from his arms. Taking a deep breath, Elrohir rose and after staggering a few steps, he leaned heavily against a tree trunk.

Elladan swallowed. He could have endured all, an outburst or tears but this silence was unnerving. Had he driven his brother away? Was Elrohir no longer willing to talk to him?

When Elrohir refused to even look at him, Elladan rose and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Elrohir, if you are angry at me then I’m….” He stopped when his brother suddenly jerked his head up. His twin's cold grey eyes met his.

“Elladan, it’s alright. Really. I’m used to your repellent attitude. But do me one favour and open your bond. Can you not feel it?”

Elladan looked at his brother in shock. The cold words did not fit Elrohir. His younger sibling was always understanding and forgiving, always willing to please. Had he in his blind grief overlooked something?

Suddenly Elrohir was standing directly in front of him, shaking him forcefully.

“Wake up, Elladan. It’s alright if you treat me like if I not here, but now you need to listen to your senses just one time. Can you not feel it? Ada is fading and it’s our fault!”

Elladan took a step back. The anger radiating from Elrohir was shocking enough but the additional feeling he now recognized stole his breath away. Elrohir had not exaggerated. Clear signs of their father's fading were assailing him.

With a cry of anguish he sank to his knees. Why had he not noticed this earlier? What had caused this? His father was imperturbable, nothing disturbed him. The thought had barely crossed his mind when he realized how stupid it was. But until now he had been unable to realize this and see beyond his own grief.

Now it stood out clearly, and another thing was driven home to him too. It was not theirfault – it was his fault. He had been the one driving everyone away with his hatred. He had been the one who brought his father to the edge of his endurance with his mindless act of two nights before.

With his eyes pleading for understanding he looked up at Elrohir, but his brother was still standing there his expression unforgiving.

Elrohir took a step toward him and dragged him to his feet with a rough pull on his tunic. “Let us return home, Elladan. Maybe there is still something remaining to rescue. We have to at least try.”

Without waiting for a response, Elrohir turned and walked toward their waiting horses. He mounted and waited, not even turning around to look at his brother.

Elladan swallowed. This was not like Elrohir, who had always relented and was the first one ready to make peace. Had he pushed him too far this time?

With tears in his eyes he staggered forward toward his horse. The overwhelming grief still coming his way was causing a headache and the closed bond to his brother was a stabbing pain right in his heart.

Nearly overwhelmed with sorrow but also determined to make right whatever had caused a rift with the two people who were most dear to him Elladan quickly mounted his horse and followed his brother into the dark night.

To be continued……………………..

A/N: I´m sorry for the long delay.....

Chapter 6:  a troubled homecoming

Elladan let out a breath when they crossed the invisible border protecting Imladris. The valley appeared before them and they begun descending down the steep pathway to the river Bruinen.

His brother had not once slowed down or taken a break. After his third attempt to speak with Elrohir, Elladan had not tried again. This time Elrohir was truly angry. Elladan lowered his head not choosing his route. His horse knew the way home well.

The disturbing feelings coming from his father, which had intensified the nearer they had come, were bad enough; but the rejection from his brother unsettled him even more. Had he now crossed a line Elrohir was unwilling to reverse?

Elladan shook his head absently. They were here to look after their Ada. He would speak with Elrohir later when emotions were not this high.

They had reached the courtyard and Elladan was pulled from his thoughts when his mare whinnied loudly. Absentmindedly he patted the proud neck and dismounted, looking around him. No stable hand was there to take their horses; no elf was greeting their arrival. Elladan frowned.

He looked at Elrohir but the expression on his brother’s face was blank. He had tilted his head to the side as if he was listening to something. Elladan pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Come,” Elrohir suddenly said and Elladan was glad that for the first time his brother’s voice had not sounded harsh. After releasing their horses into a paddock, Elladan followed his brother into the house.

………………………………………………

They entered, crossed the great entrance hall and climbed the many steps of the wide curving staircase up to the first floor. Elladan followed his brother, sure that they would find their father in his own rooms and not in the infirmary.

Elladan´s heart begun to pound faster the nearer they came to their father’s suite of rooms. He had never considered that his father would willingly give up his life and that he would choose to fade. This was so unheard of, so unbelievable for him, that he dreaded the moment he would learn the truth. While the emotions coming through their bond confirmed his worst fears, he needed the reassurance only his eyes could give him.

When Elrohir had rounded the last corner and stopped abruptly Elladan nearly bumped into his brother. Irritated he stepped around his frozen twin to look at what had caused the sudden halt.

However, he also stood still when he saw Glorfindel just emerging from his father’s bedroom. The warrior looked at them with an expression that Elladan could not place.

Elrohir was staring back at their mentor his emotions suddenly blocked from him. Elladan narrowed his eyes when Glorfindel turned slightly back, blocking the door. What was the meaning of this?

Elladan was just about to stride forward determinedly and demand entrance when his brother’s words at their campsite in the woods came back to him.

'We are to blame for father’s condition.'

Elladan swallowed hard and looked again at the warrior still standing before the door. It was not possible to judge their mentor’s expression. For a short moment, Elladan wanted to find out if Glorfindel would really fight them when they demanded entrance to their father’s bedroom. Quickly he discarded this thought as foolish.

Suddenly he felt unsure about how to proceed at all. What a weird situation. Their father was hovering on death's doorstep and both he and his brother dreaded the one thing that could possibly reverse his condition.

Suddenly Elrohir stepped forward looking at the warrior with a taut expression on his face. Elladan followed his twin closely.

“Glorfindel what happened? Why are you denying us entrance?” he asked his voice nearly breaking. Elladan swallowed when he looked at the cold eyes looking back at them.

“I deny you nothing, Elrondion,” Glorfindel replied and his voice was as cold as his glare. “You should only consider what benefit the visit of you two would have for your father.”

Elladan narrowed his eyes while Elrohir swallowed. If their father was really fading then their presence might be the only means to bring him back at all. Yet hadn't their rejecting behaviour caused this devastation?

No longer willing to speculate and waste more time Elladan was about to circle around his brother and confront Glorfindel. However he had not taken a step before Elrohir whirled around and shoved him back toward the opposite corridor wall with a mighty push. Before Elladan could recover, Elrohir had stepped in front of his stunned twin and circled his hand around his brother’s neck.

“Stop acting stupidly. We are here to help father and not continue what we have done for too long. Glorfindel is right. It’s our fault that father sees no other option then to fade. I’m deeply ashamed about our behaviour, even if it was mostly you pushing him back. But I’m to blame also because I did nothing against it. Now support me and try to give father a reason to go on living, or go away and leave my sight.”

Without another word, Elrohir turned. Not looking at his brother again the younger twin strode toward Glorfindel and their father’s bedroom door not slowing down. When he had reached the door Glorfindel stepped aside and let the younger twin pass without any outward reaction to the previous actions.

Elladan stood immobile against the wall, shocked at his brother’s words. Absentmindedly he massaged the already-blooming bruise on his throat.

Once again his first impulse was anger, but it quickly vanished into thin air. He shook his head. Elrohir was right, it was their … no, it was his fault that their father had finally succumbed to his grief. Swallowing nervously Elladan looked at Glorfindel. For the first time he was afraid to face his father’s advisor.

Yet his character couldn't change from one moment to the next. Hiding his true feelings behind a façade of indifference, Elladan strode toward the still open bedroom door ready to demand entry or to force his way in if necessary.

Glorfindel didn’t move. He didn't block him, but he also didn't move away from the doorway. It was a clear warning that Elladan did not mistake. With a last glare, Elladan hurried past the warrior and closed the door behind him.

Glorfindel kept his position as a sentinel. He was unwilling to let the brothers bring any more sorrow to his Lord’s wounded soul, yet also knew that his sons might be the only chance of the Elf-lord’s survival.

…………………………………………

Inside the room Elladan blinked to focus. The heavy curtains were drawn, shutting out the sunlight. The room was filled with the fragrance of burnt athelas. The normally soothing herb was unable to calm his agitated thoughts.

Elladan´s heart constricted painfully when he stepped closer to the large bed. His father lay on his back, his eyes closed and his breathing so shallow that he had to look intently to see the rise of his chest at all.

The Elf-lord’s face was pale and he seemed unusually aged. Elladan allowed his gaze to focus on his father's hand, but the ring of power was hidden from sight as was normal during times when its powers were not called upon.

The older twin briefly wondered what would happen to the ring should his father fade. Would it lose its power and become visible, appearing as any normal piece of jewellery?

However what shocked Elladan the most was seeing the crouched figure of his brother kneeling before the bed, leaning near their father's body. Elrohir´s face was pressed into the coverlet and only now did Elladan recognize that sobs were shaking his brother’s frame.

Again he had been so absorbed in his own misery that he had failed to notice how others –how the other half of his soul – fared. That was exactly his problem of late, he admitted to himself. He was no longer capable of seeing beyond his own grief, anger and his wish for revenge.

He resolved that this had to change and he had to make the first step. Taking a deep breath Elladan stepped next to his brother and knelt down in the same position. Tentatively he reached out his hand and grasped his brother’s cold fingers resting on the coverlet seemingly forlorn, placing his other hand over his father’s heart.

Taking another deep breath Elladan opened his bond fully, allowing his brother to see – really see – into his soul. It was something he had not done in a long time.

He held nothing back; from the moment his world crumbled when their mother had been snatched from their grasp, to her return as nothing more than an empty shell. He let Elrohir experience why he had been so angry at himself, at others and at the world at large. He explained without words why he would never be able to forgive himself although forgiveness was not required. He also reviewed why he felt himself to be a failure and why he felt he would never be the elf he was before their mother decided to leave them.

After releasing all of his sorrow and reasoning, Elladan slumped down on his haunches totally spent. The emotional outpouring had not been what flattened his soul. No, it was the total lack of response from his brother. Elrohir had stopped sobbing but he had neither looked up nor even acknowledged that Elladan was in the room.

Slowly Elladan rose and carefully loosened the connection with his father he had unconsciously established. Accepting the new rejection he walked toward the doorway and stepped into the corridor.

Glorfindel was still standing there and looked at him with a blank expression. There was no comfort to be found here either, Elladan realized.

Without another word or look, he turned and walked down the corridor. His mind was as empty as his heart and now he no longer cared. He had already lost his brother and he would now lose his father in a few days. What meaning did life hold for him anymore?

……………………………………..

Elrohir blinked when his mind returned to the present. For more than an hour he had tried to reach his father’s fea, yet the Elf-lord had totally severed his connection with the world of the living.

With a weary sigh Elrohir fall back on his heels. He had no strength left. The long years of grieving and mindless hunting had depleted his reserves to a frightening level. His father’s condition was a clear statement how weak his perceptions had become. He had always been the one who had been careful about how to treat others, ever mindful of their emotions.

Now it was too late. He had let this happen. He was as guilty as his brother at his father's health, and the worst of it was that he could sympathize with the Elf lord’s decision. Many times lately, he had entertained similar thoughts; to simply lower his sword in the middle of a battle and let the next orc kill him, or to just not struggle on and continue to experience the pain and emptiness in his heart.

Every time he had not given in to his despair because of his awareness of how his death would affect those left behind. He wondered, had his father ever had similar thoughts? Surprised, he realized that he felt angry. He was angry that his father was choosing the easy way out. He had personally struggled day by day to protect those around him and suffered silently – but his father had relinquished his hold on the world of the living because he could no longer bear it. What about him? What about his feelings? Were they unimportant to his father and his brother?

Without thought he had walked out of the room and was now standing face to face with a worried looking Glorfindel. He was too tired to react in any way.

“You should look after your brother,” the warrior stated in a low voice. The only thing Elrohir could do was laugh – first silently but then louder, edging near hysteria.

“Why should I look after Elladan, Glorfindel, eh? Is something wrong? Do you know what? I do not care!”

Without reacting to the shock in his mentor´s eyes Elrohir turned and fled down the corridor. He had to get out of the house, away from demanding eyes and away from everything.

To be continued………………………

Chapter 7:  discussions and decisions

“What are you thinking?” Vairë asked her spouse.

The Lord of Mandos was leaning casually against a great pillar. Námo turned and smiled at the question.

“As if you do not know what I’m thinking,” he answered amused.

Both Valar had taken their bodily appearance, even though it was unnecessary. The Lord of Mandos was standing at the outer ring of the Máhanaxar, looking out over the Ezellohar seemingly into nothing.

He was a sight to behold. The Vala was dressed in a long robe of black satin fastened by a broad belt inlaid with sparkling gems. His shining hair was flowing freely down his back past his waist. A beautiful butterfly clasp made of mithril held his hair in place just behind his neck.

Vairë was no less beautiful in appearance. As tall as her spouse, she was also dressed in a long robe, hers of shining yellow interspersed with glittering golden threads. The fabric was molded to her small hips needing no belt to hold it. Accenting her décolleté was a fine necklace of emeralds, highlighting and matching her green eyes.

Vairë smiled at her husband´s reply. Of course, she knew what was on his mind, yet after indulging him by taking on the appearance of the Children, she continued to play along.

“I want to hear it from your lips, my love,” she replied while circling her arms around her husband’s waist. Námo immediately regretted their physical bodies because he was unable to react appropriately to his lover’s affectionate display.

Swearing to make up for the neglect, he concentrated his thoughts on the present.

“I’m thinking about our three Peredhil, of course,” Námo said with an echo of sadness in his voice.

Vairë nodded. As the weaver of the fates of Arda, she knew well what plagued the Half-elven family.

“And you want to do what against this possible tragedy?” she asked, her voice no more then a whisper.

Námo turned and his eyes met those of his wife. For some moments time stood still. He knew it would be fruitless to ask how the life-string of the elves would develop, although his wife was fixing the history of Arda with every thread she wove into her tapestries.

After a deep sigh, Námo turned to look over the green hill once more.

“I will talk to all three of them and determine where the core of the problem lies. Perhaps this will help to solve their misunderstandings.”

Vairë smiled, having long before determined what her spouse was planning. This would be no simple talk but sometimes deep-rooted problems required extraordinary measures.

After agreeing to her husband’s plan Vairë demanded payment of her spouse’s earlier promise. Both Valar instantly abandoned their bodily forms and their radiant spheres mingled until only a blinding light could be seen, much too bright for any mortal eye to look upon.

……………………………………….

“Welcome child, be at peace.”

The Lord of Imladris blinked at the white light that seemed to come from everywhere, the ceiling, the floor and the walls. Although it was shining brightly, it was not blinding. He realized he felt safe and cared for - a feeling he hadn’t experienced for a long time.

Elrond rose from the pallet upon which he had been lying. Even though it held neither pillow nor covering, it had felt comfortable and cosy beneath him.

“Where I am?” Elrond asked. Although he had some idea, he could not resist asking. He was well aware that he had given up his existence, that he had willingly started the process of fading.

Even though he felt that he was not alone and being watched, Elrond cross the room to the only door he could make out. On his way, he briefly wondered how he could open the door because it had no doorknob.

“Where do you want to be and where do you want to go?” came the cryptic reply and Elrond stopped moving. It was a good question, he thought.

“I’m dead?” he asked hesitantly.

“Do you wish to leave the world of the living?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Elrond was stunned and angry. Did he truly want to die? It seemed that being in this strange room already indicated that he had left his earthly existence behind him. Why, then, was he being questioned? He almost growled; speaking to thin air unnerved him.

No sooner had these thoughts crossed his mind than the air suddenly smelled pleasantly different and a figure clad in pure white appeared from nowhere. Even if the Being looked like an elf on fist glance, Elrond was sure it was not.

“You wanted to speak to me personally, child? Here I am. I’m Námo, the caretaker of souls.”

Elrond swallowed. He had expected some of the Valar appearing, yet to stand face to face with the Lord of Mandos left him reeling.

After seconds, or was it moments, the face with the gentle eyes looking down at him changed and some of sternness returned to its features.

“I ask you again, Eärendilion. Do you want to give up life and leave Middle-earth behind?”

Although "yes" was on his lips, the word did not leave his mouth. He questioned himself. Did he want to? Did he really want to die?

Námo smiled again and before Elrond could blink, his vision blurred and he found himself in a wondrous surrounding. He instantly recognized the vale of Imladris, yet it held no buildings. Indeed, there was no trace that it had ever been occupied by anyone…

………………………………………..

Elladan had walked along the river Bruinen aimlessly. He had no desire to stay, yet he did not know where to go either. At any minute, he expected the severing of the bond connecting him with his father. He did not know what exactly would happen, but he did not see any chance to alter their fate.

He had returned home full of hope, with the wish to make right the pain he had caused. Now, however, he did not know if he even wanted to go on living himself. Since his mother’s departure, nothing had been as before. He wished that one day he could feel good again, free from any guilt or sorrow.

Seeing an exceptionally lovely place in a bend of the river Elladan let himself sink into the grass directing his gaze out onto the glittering surface of the river. The sound of a nearby waterfall and the swirling of small wavelets had always soothed his troubled mind. Yet the effect did not work its usual calming influence this time.

He was just about to rise again when he caught sight of a tiny shining speck on the water´s surface. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief when the bright point seemed to remain at the same location while growing brighter in intensity.

He had already partly closed his eyes to avoid blindness when the light suddenly exploded. For a short moment, his vision blurred and his perceptions were deadened.

After blinking several times Elladan sprang to his feet. The river was still in front of him but his surroundings had changed significantly. He was still at Imladris but the land seemed much wilder and uncultivated, in fact not touched by any being....

………………………………………

Elrohir was leisurely grooming his horse. Never, since his earliest childhood had his love for horses diminished. They were his companions and often silent but observant listeners.

Many a problem he had told his brown mare and she had managed, through a nudge or a whinny, to make him feel better. He had committed his inner thoughts to his faithful steed; thoughts that he had shared with no one else, not even his brother.

Today, however, the company brought him no comfort. Tindóme was restless and did not hold still for grooming. Elrohir sighed and after sharing an apple with her, he turned to leave the stall. His eye was caught by something on the ground partially hidden beneath the straw.

After swallowing the last remnant of the apple, he bent down, reaching for the shining object. A small, hot flash issued from the item, sending a short, intense pain up his arm.

Elrohir was thrown backwards and when he opened his eyes again he gasped in amazement. He could see the stars above him. The roof of the stable had vanished. Slowly he sat up and swallowed hard. The entire stable had disappeared.

His surroundings were still familiar, yet at the same time foreign. The steep walls of familiar mountains still loomed overhead and the roar of the great waterfall could be heard, yet the trees and the wide meadows seemed lusher and somehow wilder.

Elrohir swallowed hard. This was undoubtedly Imladris, his home, yet after a long look around, he felt utterly alone here. No other soul seemed to reside in the vale. Suddenly he shivered. It looked as if no soul had ever seen, let alone set foot in the valley.

To be continued…………………….

Chapter 8:  confrontations and consolidations

After regaining his wits, Elrond had instantly marched toward where the Last Homely House would stand in the future. It was strange to look upon the place and see nothing apart from a wild landscape, just like the days when he had set his foot for the first time into this valley. Without any doubts he had known this was the place he where wanted to reside until the end of Arda or the time when he would sail, whatever would occur first.

When he had ascended the steep hill and had just crossed the point where the statues of Gil-galad and Eärendil would mark the entrance to the front porch he stopped in mid stride.  There, in the middle of where he would stand to welcome guests, sat two hunched figures leaning against each other for support, their eyes lowered.

He immediately recognized his twin sons who were now looking up at him with a mixture of tension and dread. He had completely cut off his bond and this must feel as alien to them as it felt to him.

His first impulse was to open his heart and his bond to his children, but then he remembered why he had initially closed off their bond. Grief and sorrow had overwhelmed him and he had no desire to go on like this; three hundred years of suffering had finally taken its toll.

Nonetheless, he walked toward the young elves while they slowly stood. While Elladan stood immobile, Elrohir came toward him and embraced him wordlessly. Elrond returned the embrace, yet he felt more than uncomfortable and had no accompanying emotions reaching his heart.

“What are you doing here, Ada, at this…strange place,” Elrohir asked while searching his father’s face.

While releasing his younger son and looking at Elladan, the Elf-lord sighed.

“I could ask the same of you two,” he replied with a raised eyebrow.

While Elrohir frowned, Elladan only snorted.

“Some Vala is amusing himself, that’s quite obvious,” the older twin stated a scowl on his face.

Elrond directed a stern glare at his heir.

“Do not speak of the Powers disrespectfully, Elladan,” he demanded and his tone allowed no room for a reply.

The older twin however whirled around.

“Do you know what, Adar? I do not care but it does not matter any more. Very likely it’s you we have to thank for this spectacle.”

“Elladan!”

This sharp cry did not come from the Elf-lord but from Elrohir.

Before Elrohir could say any more, Elrond had placed a restraining hand on his son’s shoulder.

Directing his gaze back to the older twin the healer took a deep breath. Even without their bond opened, the Elf-lord could clearly see his son’s anger.

“What do you want to say, then?” he asked, his tone purposefully challenging.

Elladan did not need to be asked twice. With an angry glare he walked toward his father until they were only an arm’s length apart.

“Again you have taken the easy way out and decided to fade. That’s really an accomplishment, my Lord!”

While Elrohir could only gasp in shock, Elrond narrowed his eyes.

“Again?” he asked and his tone had reached an icy level.

Quivering with anger Elladan stepped closer.

“Yes, again. You should have rescued her. You did not do enough to heal mother – it’s all your fault….”

He shouted the last word. Elladan´s eyes were flashing and his hands were shaking. Elrohir swallowed. Anxiously he directed his gaze at his father, yet where he had expected shock and grief; he saw the same angry glare reflected in the steely grey eyes of his father. Never before had his father defended himself in this matter, but again, things were not normal, as Elrohir quickly learned.

“Watch your tongue, young one. I did what was in my power and beyond to heal your mother but she did not allow me inside her core. She made the decision to sail and find healing elsewhere. That was her choice, not mine.”

“You should have stopped her from leaving…,” Elladan interrupted his voice nearly hysterical now.

Elrond made a very non-Elf-lord snort.

“Stop? Your mother? Since when has your mother taken any advice after her mind was set?”

A shiver run down Elrohir´s spine at the bitterness he could hear from this statement. He had always also thought that it was his father’s wish for his mother to sail.

Equally nonplussed, Elladan showed his contempt with a gesture of his hand and turned.

Before the older twin could take a step, his father spoke again. This time Elrohir´s heart constricted so painfully, he let out a strangled gasp.

“Had you two accomplished your appointed task as required, all of this would not have happened. It was your duty to protect and guide your mother home. What did you bring home? An empty shell, with nothing remaining for me to heal. It is as much your guilt as it is mine….or no one’s ….”

Here the Elf-lord stopped and sank to his knees. Tears too long held in check flowed freely.

Yet not only was Elrond breaking down, his sons also gave themselves over to their grief. Elrohir knelt next to his father, his vision blurred with tears, and Elladan was not far behind.

On their knees, their arms entwined around each other, pulling them into a tight circle. The three peredhil joined and allowed themselves to grieve from the depth of their souls.

“I’m so sorry, Adar. I wish I could reverse what happened but I cannot,” Elladan sobbed and Elrohir only nodded.

“Of course I do not blame you. I would give my life if I could bring your mother back, but I cannot,” Elrond added his voice barely more then a whisper.

The three elves remained huddled together while time passed unnoticed around them.

After some time, words were unnecessary. Elrond reopened his bond to his children and immediately the three elves sank to the ground unconscious, overwhelmed by the much-needed reassurance that their love and respect for each other was still strong.

Some distance away two Valar gazed at one another with pleasure.

“That was hard but necessary,” Námo stated and his spouse only nodded.

“Let us bring them back and give them some hope,” Vairë whispered. From one moment to the next, the Imladris from the past vanished, replaced by a more familiar sight.

…………………………………………

After Elrohir had rounded the corner and undoubtedly left the House like his brother, Glorfindel slipped into the Elf-lord’s room. As he had expected and dreaded, Elrond was still lying there unmoving and looking more dead than alive.

The presence of the brothers had changed nothing; at least so far as Glorfindel could detect. Silently he had hoped for the opposite, but after seeing them act and interact with each other, he had buried all hope.

He was normally not subdued this easily but the many years of grieving, of hovering between desperation and hope, had left marks even on him.

Right now, he was clueless about how to help his Lord. An unerringly bad feeling however advised him to look after the brothers. If they chose to follow their father by fading, well that was the last thing he needed right now.

Advising the healer on duty to stay with the Elf-lord, even if he was sure it was unnecessary, Glorfindel left the house and went in search of Elrond’s twin sons.

Having known them their whole lives, he had always had a good idea of where to look for them. Elrohir had always found relaxation at the stables being with his beloved horses. Glorfindel decided to head there first. Afterward, he would search the riverbank to look for Elladan.

When he reached the stable, he frowned when he noticed the stall door of Elrohir´s mare open. He could not see the younger twin anywhere and he was sure Elrohir would never forget to close the door. This was odd. When he entered the box, he saw that Tindóme was standing pressed to the right; her eyes wide open with fright.

Glorfindel extended a hand to soothe the frightened animal but the horse shied further away from him. The warrior stopped his approach when his gaze fell on a black spot in the golden straw.

It almost looked like a burn mark. He carefully bent down to inspect the spot more carefully. If a fire had cause this, then the fright of the horse was understandable. However, why was the damage restricted to such a small area?

He rubbed the charred straw between his fingers and sniffed it, yet he could make no sense of why the straw looked burned.

Anyway, Elrohir was not here, even if Glorfindel had the strong feeling that the blackened spot on the floor had something to do with the disappearance of the younger twin. He patted Timdóme and after finally calming her down, he closed the stall door.

Now he made his way down to the river. Knowing where Elladan's favourite spot was, he determinedly marched around a bend of the river and stopped in mid stride.

At the water's edge, the grass was blackened in the same manner as the straw. He could find no trace of the older twin. A very bad feeling was spreading through his gut. What, in the name of the Valar, had happened here?

Since it was very unlikely that both twins had been victims of a lightning strike Glorfindel mused that the Powers he had just mentally asked for advice must be involved.

Before he could form another thought he heard silent weeping. Steeling himself he rounded a big boulder and saw the twins, cowering in the dirt, holding each other in a tight embrace and unaware of his presence.

Their tears tugged at his heart and he hoped it was not a new grief plaguing them.

Purposefully snapping a twig, he announced his presence. Elladan looked up and for the first time in a long time, a real smile was on his mouth.

Glorfindel was so stunned at the display that he stood there dumbfounded. The smile was contagious, but he needed a couple of seconds to respond in the same way. He knelt beside the brothers and enveloped both in a tight hug.

He did not have to know what had happened, but he felt clearly that a change had happened.

The positive and unburdened feelings rolling in waves from the younger elves were enough for him. Explanations could wait until later.

All three stood and began to walk back to the house. Looking up, they saw the healer Glorfindel had assigned to look after Elrond running down the hill toward them.

“My Lord Glorfindel, Master Elrond has awakened. He has asked for you …and for you, my Lords,” he added as he spied the twins.

All three elves broke into a run leaving the healer behind them.

To be continued…………………………..

Chapter 9:  Estel is finally arriving

Glorfindel refilled the glass Elrond was holding up. Both elves were sitting comfortably in front of the great hearth in Elrond’s study.

Over the past two weeks the Elf-lord seemed quite content and was acting normally, yet Glorfindel could not restrain himself from an occasional critical glance in his friend’s direction. Only two weeks before the warrior had almost been forced to accept his Lord’s death.

Glorfindel still shuddered when he remembered that dark time when all hope seemed lost. Although Elrond appeared normal Glorfindel refused to make the same mistake twice and allow himself to be fooled by the acting ability of the peredhil.

Even though everyone had seen how the healer had been suffering from the destructive way his sons had behaved, it had still been a shock for all when the Elf-lord had decided to take the drastic step of fading.

Fortunately, the Valar had taken action and reunited the Half-elven family. Until yesterday Glorfindel had not known what had happened and that in fact, the Powers were responsible for the positive change.

Even if greatly curious, Glorfindel would have never asked his Lord what occurred two weeks ago, yet yesterday evening the healer had suddenly related how the Valar had confronted him and his sons and how some clarifying and long overdue words had been exchanged.

The twins and their father had rediscovered a level of understanding and, most importantly, the brothers had turned their back on their single-minded desire to destroy as many orcs as possible.

Many things had led to Elrond's decision to fade, but this had been one of the reasons. Another had been his constant fear that his beloved sons would be slain while engaged in their hopeless quest of hate. The fact that they seemed to have now returned to their former selves, their home, and to his heart, brought him great joy.

Two days ago, Elladan and Elrohir had brought down the cottage they had resided in for the last hundred years. The destruction was a visible symbol of their return and their pledge of a new start. After resettling in their old rooms, the brothers had taken time to talk with their father, speaking about their many unvoiced feelings, their lingering grief and the many misunderstandings and disappointments that had peppered their relationship with each other and with their father.

This was exactly what the healer had needed to recover from his near-death experience, and Glorfindel had closely observed the process. Only an hour before, the warrior had taken some time to talk with the healer. Slowly Glorfindel allowed himself to take a deep breath and start believing that something positive could be restored from their former life.

Of course, nothing would replace the loss of Celebrían, yet a new kind of contentment had begun to settle over the valley. Several days before, Elrond had even reclaimed his study and started work on the backed-up correspondence.

The twins had also resumed their duties and yesterday, had ridden out to meet with Arathorn, the current chieftain of the Dúnedain. Arathorn and his wife had insisted the brothers attend the birthday of their one-year-old son, Aragorn.

The brothers had gladly accepted the invitation and had nearly driven the residents in the Last Homely House insane with endless requests about what they should bring as a gift.

They had finally decided on a beautiful little pony and Elrond had suggested that they should invite the whole family to visit Imladris and give the little horse to the infant when they had arrived. Assigned to patrol with Arathorn´s rangers the next day the twins had immediately departed to deliver the invitation. Elrond was happily anticipating meeting yet another descendant of his brother.

* * *

Elrond and Glorfindel were sitting comfortably in their chairs positioned on the front porch, waiting for the chieftain’s family to arrive. On a table in the Hall of Fire were many more gifts for the young child, Aragorn, waiting to be opened. The valley's elves rejoiced, anticipating having a young child in their midst again.

Yet the evening had passed and night was quickly approaching. The celebratory mood diminished when it became obvious that the delegation was tardy. When the healer began to pace Glorfindel rose with a sigh and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“This delay might mean nothing. You know how unpredictable such patrols can be.”

Elrond turned and looked at the warrior, unable to hide his worry.

“Yes that is exactly what worries me, Glorfindel. But beside this….”

The Balrog-slayer narrowed his eyes. It was obvious there was more to Elrond's agitation than the obvious.

“What do you perceive, Elrond?” Glorfindel asked. His stomach roiled as his uncertainty reflected in his gut.

Elrond sent a piercing look toward the warrior, causing him to take a step back.

"Something has happened to the patrol, Glorfindel. My sons are highly agitated.”

Elrond turned and left the front porch, but Glorfindel remained and watched the road until dawn approached, accompanied by a drizzling rain.

…………………………………

The next day passed painstakingly slowly. No word reached the valley about what could have caused the twins and the small family to arrive so late.

The negative feeling Elrond had received from his sons had meanwhile changed into feelings of desperation and grief. The elves of Imladris prepared themselves for more bad news arriving shortly.

When dusk once again was approaching a border guard announced that some riders were approaching the valley. Half an hour later three riders came down the winding road and proceeded toward the house over the lawn. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. Two of the riders were unmistakably the twins but the third rider he could not make out. From the general appearance, however, he thought it was a woman.

His guess was soon confirmed when the three arrived at the house and were welcomed by Elrond. Several elves came from the house and stables to care for the horses and take the packs to the assigned rooms.

The healer received a tightly wrapped bundle and then helped the woman down from her horse.

“Welcome to Imladris, Lady Gilraen,” Elrond greeted the slender woman. Her eyes were red rimmed and her gait was unsteady. She nodded acknowledgement at the Elf-lord but quickly retrieved her son from the healer’s arms.

Catching Glorfindel's eyes over the head of the woman, Elrond guided her toward the house. It was obvious that the patrol had been waylaid. The details would soon be told. Whatever had happened to Arathorn would not be a mystery for much longer, but it was more than likely sad tidings. The sober faces of the twins already told as much.

Only now Glorfindel recognized the packhorse trailing behind the older twin’s steed as belonging to Arathorn. He sighed. He knew how close the brothers had become with the human chieftain. With a reassuring squeeze to Elrohir´s shoulder Glorfindel followed Elrond into the house. At least the chieftain’s infant son had been rescued. It seemed that all hope was now lying with this small child.

……………………………….

Elrond smiled as he watched young Estel squeal when Elladan tossed him high into the air. Elladan pretended to miss catching him while Elrohir snatched the boy from the air. The child seemed to never tire of this game.

Although the reason for the young child's appearance in the valley was sad, Elrond was nonetheless glad because the protection of the child had given his sons a new perspective. In addition, when he was honest with himself, he also treasured having another Dúnedain child in his house. The possibility of educating yet another possible candidate for the throne was exciting.

For short moments it took his thoughts off his own loss and gave him a new purpose. The infectious good mood of the child and his open attitude pushed the positive atmosphere in the house immensely.

From the first moment, Elrond had known that this boy was something special. He had fostered many descendants of Isildur, yet before now there had never been a single aspirant who had the right to both demand and claim the throne.

This child was different. Sadly, he now had to grow up without the guidance of his charismatic father, yet Elrond was sure the elves would make up for this shortage and the healer held high hopes for the upbringing of this child.

Some problems had to be resolved first. Lady Gilraen was not all happy to be in the valley and the first talks with her had been disappointing. Elrond had demanded some changes in the young boy’s life if he should accept the responsibility to prepare him for his future role.

The most important thing to accomplish was to erase the boy’s presence from the awareness of the world. To show how important it was for the boy’s safety, Elrond had started to call the boy Estel - hope - but his mother had not followed his example in this.

Elrond knew that he had to be adamant; otherwise, the young Lord's future would swiftly follow his father’s fate. Although he was kind and gentle to the grieving widow in the first weeks, Elrond’s patience grew thinner with every passing day. The fear that word would spread that the heir of Isildur was still alive gnawed at his conscience.

Even if he had sent word into the world that the child was slain along with his father, the Last Homely House was home to many visitors and it would be only a matter of time until someone would determine what new resident was now living here.

It grieved him to see how difficult it was for Gilraen to settle into the new community. Even if the elves showed only kindness to her and her child, fulfilling her every wish, she remained distant and reserved. Unconsciously her reticence influenced her child's response to the elves, causing him to hold back and not open up fully to them.

This changed one evening when the little boy surprised them all. Gilraen had just brought her son to bed and like every evening Elrond appeared also to bid the boy a good night. Gilrean accepted this with reluctance, yet she knew that she had to accept his presence if she wanted a safe refuge for her son.

When Elrond had settled on the bed, the little boy suddenly looked up at him with huge eyes. Pointing a finger first at himself and then at the healer he stated:

“Me Estel. You Ada.”

Momentarily rendered speechless, Elrond looked at the child in wonder. The boy had not only accepted his new name he had also used two elvish words and he had brought him the greatest joy he could think of. He had now been called Ada once again.

The strangled sob of Gilreaen and her hurried departure only marginally diminished his joy. He would speak to her later and he had already sent a thought requesting his sons to look after the Lady. Elrond hugged the little boy to his chest and stroked his unruly locks.

“Yes you are our Estel, and I am your Ada, if you want me to be. Welcome to my house, heir of Isildur.”

Even if the boy did not understand the strange words spoken in Sindarin he grasped the meaning and the loving tone. He fastened his little arms around his new father’s neck and within minutes he was asleep.

Gently Elrond placed the boy back on the bed and silently left the room. With a last look he glanced back at the sleeping child before he gently closed the door.

Yes, hope had finally arrived in the valley.

The end.