Chapter 6, At Long Last

If the brothers had only known, Elrohir wasn’t far away from them at all.  He was, in fact, perched high in a tree almost within sight of his two disheartened brothers.

~~~Earlier...

Elrohir had raced through the trees as fast as he could when he’d run from his companions, spurred on by both fear as well as a touch of anger.  He had actually thought that Elladan cared for him, but instead of helping when he’d been hurt, the other elf had just yelled at him!!  He wanted to get as far as possible from that ‘so-called’ brother of his and with his elven stamina even considering his injury, he may have continued for hours and ended up leagues away from his traveling companions.  However, a lucky--well, lucky depending on how you looked at it--accident prevented him from leaving the others too far behind.

As the initial shock had worn off and the adrenaline faded, the pain from Elrohir’s hands had come back with a vengeance.  Thus, his use of hand holds became more and more tenuous as he flew between the branches, leading him to completely miss a key grasp and, overbalancing, crash through the trees to the ground below.

Whump!  ‘Oh...oowwww!’ thought Elrohir as he lay flat on his back, 30 feet below where he’d been just seconds before.  He lay without moving for several minutes as his dazed senses slowly came back into focus.  As he looked up, he watched the casual movement of small bits of leaves and dust as they floated down from the tree above him, little pieces of debris disturbed by his unceremonious descent out of the treetops.  Hmmm...the sunlight certainly was lovely filtering through the thick branches...and look how the breeze was rippling those leaves...  He shook his head sharply as he tried to focus.  Now was not the time to be lying on his back enjoying the sights. 

‘Alright, my friend,’ he thought as he forced himself to think.  ‘Just what did you do to yourself this time?’

One by one, Elrohir carefully moved his limbs, making sure that he hadn’t broken anything during his unexpected trip to the ground.  Right leg...unharmed.  Left leg...ohhh...nasty gash along the calf, but nothing broken.  Right arm...rather sore shoulder, but no major problem.  Left arm....whew... again nothing broken.  He was beginning to think he’d come out of the whole thing relatively unscathed when he tried to sit up and then quickly fell back down with a gasp.  Mmmm...maybe a cracked rib or two.  He remembered falling across a large branch on his way down.  Not good!  He reached over with his hand to feel along his ribs and then cried out as the pain of the burns reasserted itself.  Idiot!  How could he have forgotten his hands?   Maybe he wasn’t quite as clear minded as he’d thought.

After a few more minutes of deep breathing while he once more centered himself, Elrohir carefully, slowly pulled himself up onto his elbows and gingerly using two fingertips on his right hand--the only part of his hand that wasn’t burned--pulled up his tunic to look at his ribs.   He could see a glorious bruise already forming, but that told him nothing that he didn’t already know.  He prodded the area, again with his fingertips, but other than a sharp pain, couldn’t determine anything--probably just cracked and not broken, but still bad enough to be quite a nuisance to a lone elf, stuck in the middle of nowhere with no friends, no food, and no place to go.

He fell back, instantly regretting the move as dozens of little bruises and scrapes made themselves known.  Oh, this was absurd!!  Had he always been so useless on his own?  Less than an hour without the others and he’d already managed to fall out of a tree!  He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he was convinced that elves just weren’t supposed to fall out of trees.  He didn’t think of himself as clumsy, but he certainly couldn’t prove it after today.  First the scalding pot and now this.  Sigh...probably how he’d ended up as a slave in the first place...doing something equally senseless.  He allowed himself to wallow in several more moments of self-disgust before he decided that just laying there wasn’t helping anything.

With the stubborn determination that his brothers knew all too well, Elrohir rolled over, pushed himself up to his knees using his elbows instead of his hands, and then shakily got to his feet.  He felt a lot better standing up instead of viewing the world from the flat of his back.  As he looked down at himself, he couldn’t help shaking his head.  Oh...he had made such a mess of his nice new clothes.  Dirt, rips, tears, and now a lovely blood stain from the gash in his leg had effectively ruined his new outfit.  He briefly wondered what Elladan would say about it--after all, these were his clothes.  Probably would be angry.  If he became furious over a spilled dinner, who knew what he’d do about seeing his gift destroyed.

Elrohir continued to take stock of his injuries now that he was standing.  Other than his hands, the most immediate problem was the deep wound in his leg that continued to bleed.  He briefly wondered what he should do about it and how he could staunch the flow, but quickly realized that anything he tried to do would require the use of his hands--something that simply wasn’t an option at the moment.  Hoping the injury would clot by itself and stop bleeding on its own, he reluctantly decided to neglect it as he turned his thoughts to his situation.

The young elf leaned against a tree as he considered his predicament--he knew he was in a bind.  He simply had nowhere to go and even without the additional injuries from the fall, he had been in bad shape from the burns on his hands.  He briefly thought about going back...but could he trust his companions?  The young man Estel, now that he thought about it, had probably been trying to help him after he’d so stupidly grabbed that pot.  But Elladan...Elladan had shouted in anger and had even made his injury worse when he’d ripped the cloth over the burns.  The sense of betrayal hurt more even than his injuries and that was what finally determined Elrohir’s actions.  He staggered away from the tree and took a few shaky steps forward before he found his balance, but then managed to bury the pain in the back of his mind and continued almost steadily down the path away from his brothers. 

He walked on for another hour or so, but then suddenly stopped dead on the path.  What was he doing?  He quite honestly had nowhere to go.   The pain from his injuries was having a beneficial side effect--it kept his mind sharply focused on the present, which in turn was helping him think through his current situation.  He was hurt, he was hungry, he had no weapons, and of course, he had no understanding of who he really was and thus, no idea of who his friends were or where he should run to.  As he grimly reflected on these stark realities, Elrohir reluctantly decided that he’d have to turn back.  Friend or foe, his traveling companions were really the only people he knew other than the hostile group at the farm and he certainly wasn’t going to go back there.

He circled back around until he could hear Elladan and Aragorn tearing through the forest searching for him.  Keeping far enough away that they couldn’t spot him but near enough that he felt certain that he wouldn’t lose track of them, he played a bizarre game of hide-and-seek the rest of the day until his brothers gave up and went back to their camp for the night. 

~~~

Yes, by the end of the long day, the hunters were understandably dejected when they had to stop for the night, but the hunted was miserable as well.  By nightfall, Elrohir was one unhappy elf.  Now exhausted from his efforts to stay just out of sight of his brothers all day, he painfully made his way up into the branches of a tree in order to stay safe from the forest’s night predators.   It took him nearly an hour to make his way up to a sturdy resting spot.  Between his hands, which he couldn’t use and tried to ignore how much they hurt; his ribs, which protested every time he even moved; and his leg, which had stopped bleeding but was now throbbing mercilessly, he was having more trouble than the smallest elfling would in climbing the tree.  Eventually, he did make his goal, no doubt due to that stubborn determination that had seen him through many previous trials in his life, and huddled there all night.  He couldn’t get comfortable, however, not with his hunger and his hands hurting more and more with each passing minute.  Several times during the long night he even considered joining his brothers in their camp, especially when the smell of their dinner wafted over to him, but memories of Elladan shouting at him kept resurfacing and prevented him from giving into his impulses.

By the end of the night, though, Elrohir wasn’t thinking about being yelled at.  He wasn’t thinking about his empty stomach either or even his ribs or leg.  He wasn’t thinking about anything except his hands.  The pain had grown exponentially and he was in agony.  His years as a slave had taught Elrohir to bear almost any pain in stoic silence, but he simply couldn’t ignore it any longer.  The tops of his hands had large blisters where the stew had splashed on them, while his palms had deep burns that had been made even worse when the skin had been scraped raw as he’d torn through the trees.  Desperately trying to think of anything other than the sheer misery of those burns, he spent the night curled up in the tree as the fiery pain slowly seared the last of the drugs from his mind. 

After eternal, sleepless hours, Elrohir was dimly aware of movements from the nearby camp in the early morning light.  He was completely exhausted and knew he needed help.  Badly.  His mind totally clear for the first time in forever, he knew that regardless of yesterday’s yelling incident, he would have to trust his traveling companions.  Unless he wished to perish alone, he simply had no other options. 

Having decided that he had to rejoin Elladan and Estel, he soon came to an unhappy conclusion.  He was now too weak to climb out of the tree and he was much too high to jump.  What a mortifying situation!  He would need their help to just get out of the tree!  Sighing at what a stupid predicament this was, he sat quietly for a moment while trying to summon up enough energy to call for help.  He felt a momentary flicker of humor as he thought of his brothers’ reactions when they heard him.  He hadn’t said a word to either of them in all the time they’d been together, which in the case of Estel was almost three months, and now he was calling out to them to get him out of a tree.  Well, he hoped he wouldn’t slip back into one of those hazy times and say something bizarre that would get him into trouble.  He had been going under the assumption that silence was far safer when you found your mind wandering all the time and you couldn’t trust yourself to stay focused on the present.   It was a firm survival habit he’d decided on early on as a slave and hadn’t been ready to give up until now.

Slowly, Elrohir eased himself up, careful not to bang his hands on anything and wincing as the movement caused his damaged ribs to protest.  Focus...focus...he told himself, as the pain of just moving threatened to tip him into oblivion.  He breathed deeply and then cleared his throat. 

“Dan...” the pained voice made hardly a whisper.

Irritated with himself, Elrohir tried again, “Dan...”  Louder this time, the young elf waited for a moment to see if the others had heard him before trying a third time, “Dan!”

Back at the camp, the two brothers had been grimly preparing for another day of searching when Elladan suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.  He thought he’d heard something....

Aragorn was instantly on alert.  He knew he didn’t have the senses that his elven brothers did, so he’d learned to trust that if they noted something, it was best to get prepared.  Slowly easing his sword from the scabbard, he said questioningly, “Elladan?...”

The older twin remained still as he strained to hear.  Holding up a hand to keep Estel quiet, he whispered, “Wait...”

Then without any further notice, he whirled around and tore off through the trees, reminiscent of Elrohir’s sudden departure the day before. 

“I wish they’d say something before they did that,” grumbled an irritated Aragorn as he took off after his brother.

Elladan raced through the forest, following the sound he’d heard.  He prayed that wishful thinking wasn’t causing his senses to play tricks on him, but he was sure he’d heard his brother call him.  Within seconds, he’d reached the area from which he’d heard the voice and instantly found what he was looking for.  His twin was sitting high up in a tree, propped up against the trunk, but alert and looking down warily at his brother. 

Elladan’s thoughts and emotions whirled as he tried to quickly decide what to do.  His first thought was one of profound relief and thankfulness that he’d found Elrohir.  He’d spent so many hours last night sick with worry over his brother and couldn’t bear to think of spending more long, lonely months searching again.  His second thought was that his twin looked terrible!  He couldn’t see Elrohir’s hands, but his drawn, pale face told plainly that he was in terrible pain.

Sifting quickly through options of what to say, Elladan finally decided to stop trying to second guess how Elrohir would react and simply spoke from the heart, “Ro, I am so glad to see you.  I was worried.  Will you come down now?”

The older twin studied his brother as he hoped for an answer, but then Elrohir looked uncertainly at his hands and reluctantly shook his head in a negative response to his question.  Hoping not to push his twin into another flight, Elladan added carefully, “If you don’t wish to come down, could I instead join you?  You look as if you could use some help.”

Elrohir didn’t respond immediately as both of the twins’ attention was diverted when Aragorn burst into the clearing, brandishing his sword and ready to come to his brother’s aid against whatever foul creature was lurking about.  When Aragorn saw Elladan quietly standing in the glade speaking to Elrohir, he lowered his sword, feeling a bit foolish.  ‘And just why couldn’t Elladan have mentioned what he’d heard?’ his subconscious thought with exasperation.  The irritation was instantly wiped out, though, as his conscious mind caught up with reality.  They had found Elrohir!  Diverted from his annoyance, he looked to his oldest brother, waiting for him to make the next move.  “Dan?...”

After a short nod and brief smile for his little brother, Elladan turned his attention back to Elrohir and then approached the tree.  He moved quietly, but not as hesitantly as he would have before--he had noted that something profound had changed in Elrohir’s eyes and the older twin felt more confident than he had since he’d first seen his brother weeks ago.

“May I come up?” he asked the elf, who sat silently watching his approach.

Elrohir answered simply after just a brief moment, “Yes.”

Elladan hesitated slightly when he heard his brother speak.  The voice was a bit raspy from disuse, but hearing Elrohir answering him directly was wonderful!  He smiled at his littlest brother, who stood stock still, staring at the two in amazement.  Then, taking his cloak off and laying it on the ground, Elladan easily leapt the first several feet into the tree and in no time at all had climbed up to the branch supporting his twin.

Wariness once again flickered over Elrohir’s face as the elf approached him.  He knew he needed Elladan and Estel’s help, but he hadn’t forgotten what precipitated yesterday’s flight in the first place.  Past experience had proven that once someone started yelling, the next step was physical violence and he waited to see what Elladan would do.  It wasn’t so much that he’d feared the mistreatment--he was used to that.  No, what he’d run from yesterday and what he feared now was that this person he was coming to care for deeply had turned against him.  He waited quietly for the elf’s next actions to tell him what he needed to know.

Elladan was careful to keep the dismay from his face as he looked at his twin.  Elrohir looked awful!  The torn clothes that showed glimpses of bruises and scrapes told him that his brother had been having a difficult time since he’d run off.  But it was his hands that really worried Elladan.  From what he could see, they needed attention and they needed it now.

“Elrohir, you certainly are a mess,” said Elladan with a gentle smile, “and those hands look as if they pain you.  I know how to treat them, but I believe the first thing required is get you out of this tree.  How about we join Estel on the ground?”

So he wasn’t angry.  Elrohir relaxed a bit as he saw only loving concern in the other’s eyes.  “I’m having...a bit of trouble climbing,” he said, with a touch of the dry humor that the Elrohir of old was known for.

Elladan breathed deeply as he got his emotions under control.  Elrohir was conversing with him and sounding again like...Elrohir.  The voice was a bit rough still, but the delivery was pure Elrohir.  He allowed himself a fleeting moment to be thankful for this small sign that his brother was finally coming back to him, and then moved a bit closer to his twin.

“It is too great a distance to jump,” Elladan said, considering the long drop to the ground.  “Can you not climb at all?”

Elrohir shook his head, “Nay.  I get dizzy just moving and my hands are useless.  I am sorry,” he added to his brother’s dismay.

Elladan grimaced, “No...don’t be sorry.  You’ve done nothing wrong.  Ro, it is I who should be sorry.  I should never have yelled at you yesterday and I deeply regret it.  I was foolish and impatient and I am truly, truly sorry.  Can you forgive me?” 

The younger elf absolutely had no idea what to say.  So the other elf wasn’t mad, but now he was apologizing to him?!  Elrohir wasn’t sure what one did in those circumstances, and so he finally just nodded cautiously. 

His reward was a brilliant smile from Elladan, whose relief and joy was like a ray of sunlight after a storm.  Elrohir felt it wash over him and, for the first time, gave a tentative smile of his own to his brother.

Luckily, Elladan was holding onto the branch he was sitting on, or he might have slipped off and the small denizens of the forest might have been treated to the unlikely sight of a second elf falling out of a tree.  It was a shock, to say the least, to watch one’s brother go from being a perplexing shade of his former self to someone who would talk with him and now smile.

“Thank you, brother,” he said when he thought he could speak without his voice quavering.  “But we are still left with the problem of getting you down.”  Considering the situation, he continued, “As I see it, we have two options.  The first being we work our way down, branch by branch while I steady you.  The second is that I offer you a ride on my back.  Have you a preference?”

Throwing caution to the winds, Elrohir decided to fully trust the elf and said, “If you are certain you can manage, I think a ride may be better.  I do not believe I could make it down the other way.  Even with your help, I would still fall.  I haven’t the energy and my balance is shot,” he finished apologetically.

Elladan nodded, all but bursting inside with delight at each new sign that his twin was back.  Elrohir was going to let him carry him!  This from the elf who just scant weeks ago would become violent if even touched and still had shied away from any contact.

Moving till he was right in front of Elrohir, Elladan squatted down on the branch that his brother had straddled, studying the situation as he tried to figure out the best way to accomplish this task without either of them falling.  “Can you stand?” he asked.

Elrohir shook his head regretfully, “I do not believe so.”

“Very well.  Here is what we do.  I will help you swing both legs to this side of the branch and then I shall stand on the limb below us.  Next you slide off this branch and onto my back.  And then you simply hold on while I take us down.  Agreed?” asked Elladan.

Elrohir wasn’t too sure about his brother’s plan.  While certainly not afraid of heights, he was wary of falling a second time and realized that there would be one tricky point when he’d have to slide himself off the branch and onto Elladan’s back while not being able to use his hands.  He wasn’t confident he could do it, but given the alternative of staying in the tree, he figured he’d give it a try.  “I believe that would work,” he answered.

Elladan was almost giddy as he started to put his plan into action.  The joy inside him now compared with the utter despair of yesterday was making him uncharacteristically bubbly.  A call from below sobered him a bit as he remembered that he had another brother on the ground.  A brother who was growing more concerned with every passing moment.

“Estel!” he called down a bit sheepishly.  How could he have forgotten that Estel was worried as well and waiting for word of Elrohir?  “Um...things are fine up here, but Elrohir needs some assistance coming down.  I am going to carry him and will be down momentarily,” he added.

Aragorn wanted to stomp in frustration.  Typically a calm, cool individual, he was finding it hard at the moment to be patient.  Years ago he had come to accept the fact that he wasn’t an elf and couldn’t do everything that they did.  But when he was stuck on the ground...while his brothers were up in the tree...one of them hurt...both of them of course neglecting to tell him anything...!  Arrgh!  ‘Things were fine, but Elrohir needed assistance.’  Now what exactly was that supposed to mean?  And he had heard his brothers talking up there.  Talking!  He had not been able to make out the words, but he was certain from the rhythm of the voices that it had been two, not one, speaking.  That meant that Elrohir was joining in!  Arrgh, arrgh, arrgh!!!  He wanted to be with them, not waiting uselessly here on the ground!

Elladan, after his brief thoughts for Estel, put him out of his mind as he worked at getting his twin out of the tree.  He grabbed Elrohir’s waist with one hand to steady him while he used his other hand to help him carefully swing his left leg over the branch.  Elladan noted his brother’s quick intake of breath as he held him tightly to keep him steady--a hidden injury to his ribs, no doubt.  He was also alarmed at how weak Elrohir really was--he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he was out of energy.  Not a trace of his concern showed on his face, though, as he held his brother on the branch. 

“Now step two,” he said matter-of-factly as he lowered himself to the branch below.  “I will turn around and back up to you.  Then you wrap your legs around my waist, slide off the branch, and put your arms around my neck.  Then I will do the rest.”

Elladan turned around and backed up to his brother.  This was the tricky part and he wasn’t as confident as he’d tried to pretend.  If Elrohir slipped, he wouldn’t be able to catch him since he’d have his back to him.  He twisted his head around as he tried to watch Elrohir slide off the branch.  He saw with alarm that his brother was looking quite shaky and he’d almost decided to turn around and try to figure out another solution when his brother wrapped his legs around his waist and began to slowly ease off the branch. 

Elrohir was finding this maneuver was quite difficult, actually, since he wasn’t able to use his hands at all to help him scoot forward.  Elrohir wriggled a bit until he was right at the edge and then asked, “Ready?”

“Whenever you are, brother,” answered Elladan, thinking that this would work after all.

Elrohir put his elbows on his brother’s shoulders, careful not to let his hands touch anything, then with a shaky breath, pulled with his legs until he slipped from the branch.  Elladan had been bracing himself for his brother’s weight and easily adjusted his balance. 

The plan would have worked beautifully except for one thing--Elrohir was weaker than they’d both realized and started immediately to slip sideways off of Elladan’s back.  In his efforts to keep his brother from falling, the older twin accidentally grabbed Elrohir’s right hand, which caused the younger elf to cry out in agony and jerk back violently.  A few seconds of panicked maneuvering on Elladan’s part left Elrohir squashed up against the tree trunk while Elladan steadied the two of them.  When it was all over, both twins were safe but breathing hard--one from pain and one from fear of dropping his brother.

“Elladan!” called Aragorn from the ground.  He had heard the cry and had seen his brothers almost fall and was now frantic with the desire to help them.  “I’m coming up!” he shouted.

“Nay!” responded Elladan once he caught his breath.  “I have it under control.  Just go back and get the healing kit and start some water boiling.  We need to tend to these burns as soon as possible.”

Aragorn’s worry didn’t lessen at those words.  Burns were a nasty injury, prone to infection and difficult to treat.  Even elves, with their wondrous healing powers, took a long time to get over them.  With a last glance up the tree, he raced away to their campsite to retrieve the healing kit from his pack. 

Elladan moved away from the tree trunk and shifted the burden on his back slightly as he prepared himself for the climb down.  Elrohir’s arms were now draped loosely around his neck and he moved his left hand to Elrohir’s right elbow, firmly grasping it to keep the elf on his back.  Elrohir lay his head on his brother’s shoulder as he concentrated keeping his legs around his waist.  The pain of Elladan grabbing his hand followed by his damaged ribs being crushed up against the tree had practically made him pass out and he was afraid he would soon lose the battle to stay conscious.

Elladan felt the trembling weakness of his brother as he started to make his way down the tree, keeping one hand on Elrohir’s elbow while using the other to grab onto branches on his way down.  He went faster than he had been planning to, for he was certain that Elrohir wouldn’t be able to hang on for too much longer.  The trip through the tree branches was nerve-wracking for Elladan, but for the most part it was uneventful.  There were a couple of moments when he’d had to pause and readjust his brother on his back as his mind raced on how he could catch Elrohir if his brother’s strength ran out before they reached the ground.  However, after just a short while, they reached the bottom branches quite safely.  It was with profound relief that Elladan dropped the last few feet to the ground, Elrohir still managing to cling on.

Aragorn was there waiting for them at the bottom of the tree.  He had flown back to their camp, grabbed the healing kit, the cook pot, a small bowl, and then rushed back just as his brothers were nearing the last few branches.  When Elladan’s feet touched the ground, the young ranger was beside him, gently helping Elrohir off his back. 

They were safe, but the whole experience proved too much for the wounded elf.  As he felt himself being pulled off of Elladan, he knew he could finally let go and with profound relief took grateful refuge in the beckoning darkness, slumping limply in his little brother’s arms.

Aragorn caught Elrohir’s weight and slowly lowered him to the ground.  “Elladan?...” he asked questioningly, frightened for his brother.

“I don’t know, Estel,” answered the worried elf.  “Help me check him out.”

The brothers worked for the next few minutes in silent efficiency as they assessed Elrohir’s injuries.  He had a strong heartbeat and was breathing fine, so it appeared that he had simply passed out from pain and exhaustion.  Aside from various small scrapes and bruises, there were several more serious injuries that required attention.  Dark bruising of Elrohir’s torso confirmed Elladan’s earlier suspicion that he’d injured his ribs.  Also, a long, deep cut in his left calf would require a great deal of stitching.  However, the most worrisome problem was his hands, which were a disaster!  Several of the blisters had been torn open during their frantic attempt to stay in the tree and the palms of his hands were raw, bloody sores embedded with tree bark, dirt, and various pieces of forest debris.

“We must treat the worst of the wounds before he wakes.  First hands, then ribs, and finally his leg,” said Elladan grimly.  The last thing he wanted to do was to cause his brother pain by trying to clean out the wounds while he was conscious, so he hoped they could work quickly enough to finish their work before Elrohir regained consciousness.

The quiet efficiency of the brothers as they prepared their work area told of the years of study under Elrond’s firm guidance.  The elf lord had passed on to his sons much of his healing knowledge and they both knew without question what had to be done.  Aragorn had not had a chance to start the water boiling, or in fact, to even start a fire, so that was his first task.  He quickly had a small, hot blaze going under the little pot and then turned to help Elladan with the rest of his preparations.  The older twin had laid out his cloak as a soft surface and had rolls of clean bandages lying in the corner with the empty bowl sitting beside them.  Aragorn took the bowl to the stream and filled it with fresh, clear water, and returned just as his brother finished selecting out a small pile of herbs and placing them beside the little grinding pot that the brothers kept in the healing kit.  These would be used later after they combined them with boiling water and pounded them into a poultice. 

Once all the preparations were complete, Elrohir was carried over to the cloak and the brothers knelt on either side of him, each taking a hand.  They moved very carefully as they cleaned away the dirt and debris.  Even unconscious, Elrohir could apparently still feel what was being done to him, for every once in awhile he’d try to pull one of his hands away and whimpered in pain.  Each one of these sounds stabbed deep into his brothers.  Both as the elven warrior of old and the more recent ex-slave, Elrohir had always been so stoic when it came to any kind of injury.  For him to make any noise at all now, even unconscious, the pain had to be excruciating.

The little pot of water began to boil while the brothers were only about halfway through with their work and Aragorn stopped what he was doing, gently laying Elrohir’s left hand down on some clean bandages.  He removed the water from the fire and poured some of it into the grinding pot and then with the surety of years of working with Elrond, scooped up the pile of herbs set aside earlier and added them to the water, pulverizing each one until a smooth, soft paste was formed.  This had taken quite awhile, so by the time he’d finished and rejoined Elladan, the older twin had finished on Elrohir’s right hand and had taken up where Aragorn had left off on the left.  Wordlessly, Aragorn started applying the healing paste onto Elrohir’s right hand, trying to be gentle, but knowing he was hurting his brother as Elrohir became more and more agitated. 

The brothers worked as quickly as they could, hoping to finish before Elrohir became fully conscious.  However, they were just finishing up with wrapping the last of the bandages when he began to regain consciousness.  He became more and more restless as his awareness grew and he realized just how much he hurt.

“Estel, keep him quiet,” said Elladan softly.  He needed to finish up with his brother’s hands and it would only make things worse if Elrohir banged anything with his hands at this point.

Aragorn put down the hand he had been wrapping and pressed on Elrohir’s shoulders lightly. 

“Easy, Elrohir.  Lie still,” directed Aragorn soothingly as his brother’s eyes fluttered open.  He gently patted the young elf’s shoulders as he tried keep him calm.  ‘Shhhh…don’t move.  We are only trying to help.”

Elrohir blinked as he tried to think.  It took a moment to figure out just where he was, he was so distracted…everything hurt!  His ribs, his leg, his hands…what had happened?!  Estel was holding him down and Elladan…he weakly lifted his head and saw his other brother working on wrapping one of his hands in a thick, white bandage while the other hand was already in a similar state.  What had he done?  As he lay his head back down, he suddenly remembered the cook fire and grabbing the stew pot.  Oh…right.  ‘Well, that was brainless!’ he reflected.  He sighed in disgust at himself.  Another one of “those” times.   It was bad enough that he wasn’t able to make clear decisions during those times, but to be so amazingly stupid that he’d grab a boiling pot was just...amazingly stupid!  

As the younger twin was cursing himself for getting into this fix in the first place, the older twin was also cursing.

“Damn,” Elladan muttered quietly under his breath.  Even though the worst was done and Elrohir’s hands were taken care of for the moment, he and Estel still needed to wrap up his ribs and stitch his leg.  Neither of which would be much fun while Elrohir was awake.

As he finished up with Elrohir’s hands, he looked meaningfully over at his young human brother, “Estel, could you make up a tea for Elrohir?  I believe he could use a drink before we continue.”

Comprehension dawned in the ranger’s eyes as he read Elladan’s unspoken message.  He was to prepare a potion to dull the pain while they bound Elrohir’s ribs and stitched up his leg wound.  Their father’s “special tea” had soothed each of them countless times when they’d returned home with the various injuries that always seemed to plague them.  It was quick acting and almost instantly dulled any pain--it would be perfect for providing a measure of relief to Elrohir while they finished tending to his wounds.

Since there was still hot water in the little pot, it took just moments for Aragorn to prepare the soothing tea and bring it over to the twins.  Elladan had just finished wrapping his brother’s hands and reached gratefully for the cup.  Elrohir lay with his eyes focused on the tree branches above them, his face white with the effort of trying to lay still and not cry out while Elladan had finished with his hands. 

“I will lift his head while you give him the tea,” Elladan directed and then proceeded to carefully put one of the smaller packs under Elrohir’s head.

Elrohir looked at his brothers as they tried to make him comfortable.  He gritted his teeth as the movement caused pressure on his ribs.  Did everything have to hurt?!  The next thing he knew, his thoughts were distracted as a cup was pressed to his lips and he automatically began to drink.  After the first sip, however, he jerked his head away and cried out, “No!” 

He tried to knock away the cup, forcing Elladan to trap his brother’s arms against the ground as he tried to keep him from spilling the tea or further injuring himself.  If they could just get enough of the tea in Elrohir, the herbs would numb him almost immediately.  He was sure his twin was fighting because of the pain, so he hoped they’d be successful rather quickly.  “Shhh….” he tried to calm his brother.

Aragorn attempted again to make Elrohir drink, but the stubborn elf turned his head away and refused to open his mouth.  “No,” he said.

“Come, Elrohir, this will make you feel better,” encouraged Aragorn.

“Lie still you crazy elf!” chimed in Elladan with amused exasperation as he fought to keep his twin still.  “We are not trying to poison you.”

“NO!  I will not take it!” shouted Elrohir as he began to fight to get up.

Soon, Aragorn was forced to put down the cup as he was needed to help keep Elrohir still.  Elladan was concentrating on keeping his hands from further harm, so Aragorn pressed his shoulders back to pin him to the ground.  Once he’d successfully trapped him, Elladan grabbed the cup and once more tried to force his twin to drink.  He managed to pour just a small amount of the liquid down his throat before Elrohir began to choke on it and twisted his head away.

“NO!” he cried once more.

“Ro, this is foolish!  You must drink it!  It’s just to dull the pain while we stitch up your leg.  Please stop fighting us,” begged his twin.

“No…” the younger elf responded with a catch in his voice that could only be fear.

“Ro, I promise, this won’t hurt you.  It doesn’t even taste that bad!” cajoled his determined brother, not exactly truthfully, since the brew was rather nasty and all the brothers despised taking it. 

Prying his brother’s jaw open, Elladan poured in a bit more before he saw tears glistening in his twin’s eyes.  He pulled the cup away in dismay.  Dismay that was magnified a hundred times over as he finally understood Elrohir’s reluctance when he heard the almost silent plea, “Please, no drugs…”

Oh…

Someone may as well have just kicked Elladan and Aragorn in the stomach.  They exchanged horror-filled looks as they realized what they had been doing.  How could they have tried to drug Elrohir without his consent?  After all he’d been through?  Even though the tea had very different effects than whatever had been given to the young elf before, it was still something that would affect his responses and dull his senses.  Clearly something that Elrohir should have a say in. 

Elladan motioned for Aragorn to let their brother go and then lightly held him down with a hand on his chest while he quickly said, “I am sorry, Ro.  So sorry.  I should have explained.  We are not trying to drug you, honest.  It was only for pain.  Please rest easy--we will not force it on you.  Although...I do wish you would consider drinking it.”

Elrohir looked up at him apprehensively as he fought to calm himself.  He didn’t care if they cut off his leg while he watched.  He would not submit to being drugged again.  Ever! 

“Just…do what you need to without it,” Elrohir said with feeling.  “I won’t fight you.  But please…do not drug me!”

“Ro,” Elladan tried one last time, “your leg requires stitches and it will hurt when we wrap your ribs.  This is Ada’s tea.  It will only dull the pain and does not last more than a few hours.  Please reconsider taking it.”

He knew the answer even before Elrohir responded.  The stubborn look on his face was too purely Elrohir-refusing-to-give-in to be mistaken for anything else.

“Nay, I do not wish it,” said Elrohir, even as he winced from the abrupt, fierce throb in his leg.  Obviously, struggling with his brothers hadn’t done his wounds any good.  Suddenly too tired to fight or even talk any longer, he closed his eyes lightly and tried to breath through the pain of his various injuries.

Elladan and Aragorn exchanged wry looks as they got out the supplies for their next job, taping Elrohir’s ribs.  They should have known that their middle brother would have found something to be difficult about.  He always was the worst patient!

Knowing they wouldn’t win the battle to convince him to take the tea and unwilling to force him, they both worked efficiently together to take care of his ribs.  Without further words, the two brothers actually managed to wrap Elrohir’s ribs without too much difficulty.  The younger twin was clearly in pain, but they did the best they could to work quickly.

His leg, though, was a different story.  Not only was the gash deep and long, reaching nearly knee to ankle, but it was completely embedded with dried blood and dirt.  They’d have to wash it out thoroughly before they could try to stitch it, and neither of them looked forward to doing that while Elrohir was feeling everything they did. 

Aragorn decided to try just once more before they started. “Elrohir, we’re ready to do your leg now.  Please take some more of the tea.  It will make it so much easier for you,” he pleaded.

By now, Elrohir was one miserable creature!  He almost couldn’t think straight due to the pain in his hands.  And the session he’d just been through to get his ribs taped had left him breathless and exhausted.  And now…now he was being pestered again to take those damn drugs!!  Instead of answering his brother, he simply gave him an angry glare.  He was NOT going to take drugs if he had any say in it!

“Very well,” said Aragorn raising both hands in surrender.  “We’ll…try to be careful.”

He looked dejectedly over at Elladan, who wore an equally upset expression.  Neither moved to start on the leg.  Neither wanted to be the first one to hurt their brother.

Finally, Elladan was the one who sighed and pulled the water bowl down to Elrohir's legs.  Like it or not, it had to be done and he would do it.  Having made up his mind to start, he went quickly to work.  He used his boot knife to swiftly slit the legging up to the knee and then moving it aside, gazed thoughtfully at the wound.  He made himself simply look at it objectively and ignored the fact that this was his brother, his twin lying there waiting for him to hurt him.  The cut was a bad one.  It looked like it had been caught on something rough and then torn down jaggedly.  While it actually wasn't as worrisome wound as Elrohir's hands, it was going to be harder to tend to since his twin would be feeling everything they did.

The older twin spoke grimly to his youngest brother, "I wil need you to hold his leg down.  Do not let him move it around too much while I work on it.  I do not wish to make anything worse."

Aragorn nodded his understanding as he took his place.  With one hand on his brother's ankle and another on his knee, he said unhappily, "I am ready."

Gritting his teeth, Elladan dipped a clean cloth in the water bowl and carefully started to wipe off the dirt and blood from his twin's leg.  Methodically, he worked his way from the top of the wound to the bottom, forcing himself to disregard the way Elrohir would gasp from time to time or make small movements as if he were keeping himself from jerking away.  No, he couldn't think about how much he was hurting Elrohir.  He was merely a healer taking care of a patient.  For the moment, that was all he could be.  If he allowed himself to acknowledge his twin's pain, he knew he'd be unable to help him.  So, he concentrated on just doing what needed to be done and after a long while, finally finished.

As difficult as cleaning the wound was, the next step was going to be even harder for all involved.  Elladan briefly considered asking Estel to stitch up the leg, but instantly dismissed the idea.  'Coward!'  he thought to himself.  He couldn't ask his little brother to do what he was unwilling to do himself.  Pulling out needle and thread, he sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself to begin. 

Before he could begin, however, Elladan felt a light touch on his arm.  Estel caught his eyes and then nodded toward Elrohir, who Elladan could see was looking intently at them both.  Elrond had drummed into them that there was much more to healing than simply tending to wounds.  And now, from the tired, pain-filled, apprehensive look he was getting from his twin, it seemed like Elrohir was needing a different kind of attention before they moved on to the next step.  Perhaps just a bit of reassurance.  Putting aside the needle and thread for a moment, Elladan slid up near his twin's head and gently smoothed his hair off his sweaty brow.  "How are you doing?" he asked softly.

The younger twin relaxed a bit as he felt the loving gesture from his brother.  How should he answer, though?  Frankly, he felt like hell!  And to be even more frank, he wasn't looking forward to what was coming next at all.  Still, for some reason he couldn't bring himself to say that.  What he finally managed was, "I am fine."

"You are being brave," said Elladan in almost a whisper.  He ran the back of his hand down Elrohir's cheek.  Despite the gravity of the situation, he allowed himself to momentarily feel the delight of being able to show his twin some form of affection.  If he thought he could get away with it, he'd have pulled him into a hug next, but felt that Elrohir might still shy away from that.  Instead, he said quietly, "You hold on for just a bit longer.  We will be done soon."

Elrohir gave his brother a look that expressed all the mixed up feelings coursing through him:  gratitude, affection, confusion, exhaustion, pain, shame, apprehension, and even fear.  Elladan clearly understood them all, for he allowed himself to give his twin a quick kiss on the forehead and said, “Everything will be alright, I promise.  We will be careful, but if the pain is more than you can bear, just cry out.  There is no shame.”  After a few more moments stroking his brother’s forehead, he continued, “Are you ready now?”

The exhausted elf looked deep into his brother’s eyes and nodded, even giving his brother a small smile.  Then, he closed his eyes, once again trying to center his awareness on anything other than what was about to happen.  He felt Elladan move back down to his legs and tried hard to keep relaxed. 

He managed to do all right for the first stitch...and the second...and even the third.  The fourth stitch was pulling together a wider part of the wound, though, and Elladan had to tug it a bit harder to get the ends to close evenly.  A small moan escaped Elrohir's lips before he could prevent it.  Oh…that…hurt!  His eyes flew open when he realized that Elladan hadn’t continued.  He saw both brothers looking at him with worry and concern, so he said breathlessly, “I am fine.  Fine.  Please...just finish.” After that, he concentrated and allowed no more sound to pass his lips.  After all, this was something he was a master at after his years of silent existence.

By the time the brothers finished, there wasn’t one person in the camp who wasn’t shaking with tension and exhaustion.  It had been just as hard for Elladan and Aragorn to be working on their brother, knowing with certainty that they were hurting him, as it was for Elrohir to bear the pain in silence.  But at last, the wound was clean, stitched, and bandaged and they could all rest.

Aragorn was the first to move, getting shakily to his feet and picking up the water bowl, now filled with bloody, dirty water.  “I will fetch some fresh water,” he stated and headed toward the creek.

Elladan didn’t even bother to acknowledge him.  He was so wrung out that all he could do for the moment was sit there, grateful beyond measure that he was done.

When Aragorn returned moments later with a clean bowl of water, Elladan simply watched him as he pulled out their last fresh cloth and dipped it in the clear, cool water.  He wrung out the cloth and then gently wiped the sweat and grime off of Elrohir's face.  The exhausted elf hadn’t the energy to speak, but the look of gratitude he gave his little brother spoke volumes. 

“It is all over,” murmured Aragorn soothingly.  “You should rest now and regain your strength.  Shhh…just rest,” he added as he continued his ministrations by wiping the cool, wet cloth over Elrohir’s face and neck.

By this point, Elladan had gathered up his own strength and joined his brother near Elrohir’s head.

“How are you doing, Ro?  Can I get you anything?” asked Elladan gently, fleetingly wishing he was the one soothing his twin with the cloth.

Elrohir found it hard to think.  Hard to do anything other than just lay there and breath.  Everything hurt.  The actual injuries, of course, but even the places that hadn’t been injured…hurt.  He had been so tense for so long that his muscles ached from the strain.  One overriding need, however, broke through and he summoned up enough strength to ask, “Water…”

Of course!  Elladan mentally kicked himself for not thinking about how thirsty his brother would be.  He probably hadn’t had much to drink since he’d run off and certainly the blood loss meant that he’d be needing extra liquids.

Elladan smiled down at him and with a, “I will be right back,” left, returning directly with a small cup of fresh water.  He and Aragorn gently helped Elrohir sit up, but then had to quickly catch him as it became clear that he was too weak to hold himself up at all.  He swallowed hard as Aragorn helped him pull Elrohir into his arms.  He ignored his own shaking arms and, cradling his brother gently, Elladan helped him drink from the cup.  After he’d had his fill, he set the cup aside, but he couldn’t let go of his twin.  He couldn’t lay him back down.  Instead, carefully, slowly, tenderly he wrapped him in a hug.  He closed his eyes in thankfulness as he rested his cheek against the dark hair of his brother and murmured in his ear the quiet words he’d wanted to say ever since he’d found his twin.  Aragorn, watching the two, had to turn away in order to get his emotions under control as he saw a single tear trickle down Elladan’s cheek.  He couldn’t imagine what his oldest brother was feeling as at long, long last, he held his dear twin in his arms.

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