Chapter 8, Ada

“He’s here…”

As he whispered those simple words, Elrond found himself suddenly light-headed.  He couldn’t think past anything other than the sure knowledge that somewhere very close by was his long-lost son--the child that he had despaired of ever seeing again.  The incredible longing he felt to find that child and then keep him safe for all eternity translated itself into an almost physical pain--one that rendered him unexpectedly speechless and motionless.   The great Lord Elrond, master of Rivendell whose rock-solid composure was legendary even among elves, could do no more than breathe while he tried desperately to center himself and collect his scattered thoughts.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but the worried voice of his youngest eventually filtered through, breaking the spell that had been cast over him.  “Ada?” questioned Aragorn in a small voice.

When he still didn’t move, Elladan also spoke.  “Ada, are you well?” he asked as he took his father’s arm in his hand.

Elrond blinked as he was brought back into reality.  He looked into the face that was gazing into his own with a troubled expression--a face that was a mirror image of the one that he now was desperate to see.  A breathless, “Where?” was all he could manage.

Elladan shared a distressed look with his youngest brother.  This was not how they’d planned to tell their father about Elrohir.  They were going to slowly lead up to finding him, carefully explain about his memory loss, relate the small part of his story that they knew, and then finally let their father know of Elrohir’s probable reaction to seeing strange elves, which would tragically include him.  But instead of allowing them to break the news gently, somehow Elrond had known almost instantly that Elrohir had returned and now they were going to be hard-pressed to keep their father from him while they prepared him with the essential facts.

As they predicted, before his sons could say anything Elrond pulled his arm away from Elladan and repeated in a voice that sounded almost angry, so urgent was his need to see his lost child, “Where?  Where is he?”

“Ada…you need to…” began Aragorn hesitantly, but then faltered as his father turned a desperate face to him and he couldn’t think of how to continue.  Looking to his older brother for help, he waited for Elladan to come to his rescue.

Not for the first time, Elladan wished he wasn’t the oldest as he struggled to come up with the right words to tell their visibly upset father.  Taking a deep breath, he said, “Ada, as you have apparently guessed, we have wonderful news.  We did find Elrohir and he is here…but we need to tell you a few things before you go to him….”

Elrond was looking at Elladan as he spoke, but he wasn’t hearing him.  His only thoughts were on finding his other son and without further words, he made an easy guess and pushed past his boys, opening the door to Elrohir’s chambers while he ignored the voices of protest behind him.

Once he’d opened the door, however, despite the driving need to see his son Elrond suddenly found himself unable to walk over to the bed.  He’d dreamed of this scene countless times over the past years and it had always ended in disappointment.  Always, just before he could actually look at his son, his dream ended with him waking up to the reality that his child had vanished without a trace and there was nothing he could do to protect him or bring him back.  For a moment, he was caught up in that dream again and he feared that he would wake up to heart-breaking reality.  Then once again, it was the voice of his youngest son that broke though his tumbling thoughts and brought him back to the present day. 

“Ada,” Aragorn said pleadingly, “Please let us talk to you outside before you go in and wake up Elrohir.”  He predicted absolute disaster if Elrond unknowingly did anything to frighten Elrohir--for both their sakes, their father must know ahead of time what to expect and how to act.

Elladan added his plea, “There are things you must know, Ada, before Elrohir awakes.  Please come listen to us.”

This time, Elrond did look over at his sons and finally understood that he should be heeding the concerned, distressed looks they were sending him.  He turned his eyes to the distant figure lying still in Elrohir’s bed and with all the will he possessed, he forced himself to take a step back out of the room.  One more step backward…just one more to go…but before he could exit the room, he suddenly turned and walked quickly over to the bed, unable to control his own feet as they took him unerringly to the side of his lost child.

Elladan and Aragorn stood in the doorway, dismayed.  Their joy at seeing their father after so long had been swept aside by the fear of what might happen if Elrohir should now awaken in a strange room with an unknown elf standing over him.  It could scar both their father and Elrohir if the wounded elf reacted badly and they were desperate to prevent such a disaster, but they didn’t know how to prevent it without forcibly removing their father, something they were unwilling to do.

Their father was not longer even aware of his other sons’ presence or their concerns.  Instead, he stood perfectly still, looking upon his lost son’s face for the first time in almost three years.  There had been many dark moments of despair during those years that he’d feared this moment would never come and his child would be lost to him forever.  But here it was.  And his joy knew no bounds as he finally allowed himself to believe that his son had at last come home.

He took in every detail of the beloved face…other than obvious fatigue, the young elf looked no different than he had on a thousand other nights when Elrond had checked on his sleeping children.  Even as adults, Elrond had sometimes found himself making sure they were resting well, especially if they were recovering from an injury or if they’d been out on patrol for long, hard months. 

Looking at his son now, Elrond could almost imagine that Elrohir was only sleeping peacefully after one of those long rides.  But this reunion was painfully different from those past times.  For one thing, he had yet to hear what had kept Elrohir away for so long, but he knew it would be a story full of tragedy and darkness.  And secondly, he knew that for now, he couldn’t allow himself to touch his son.  As much as he yearned to pull him into his arms or even just kiss his forehead, he still resisted, for some of what his other sons had been trying to tell him had gotten through.  Thus even though it pained him, he would make no move to awaken Elrohir, accepting for the moment that all he could do was reassure himself that his son was finally safe at home. 

As the father in him accepted that fact, the master healer took over and looked critically at the sleeping elf.  The lines of exhaustion in his face and eyes closed in sleep told of bone-weary fatigue, but there was something different that he sensed about Elrohir as well.  Something that told the healer that his skills would be needed before he had his son back whole.  As this was probably what his sons needed to talk to him about, Elrond reluctantly decided he’d have to pull himself away for at least a while and listen to what they had to say.  He looked over at them, hovering worriedly in the doorway and with one last look at Elrohir, purposely strode from the room, closed the door, and joined his other sons. 

Elrond sat in one of the chairs in the comfortable outer room and gestured for his sons to join him.  He allowed himself a quick, longing look at Elrohir’s bedroom door, but then focused his attention on the two sons who were now sitting across from him.  He was wise enough to know that he needed to hear whatever it was they were so desperate to tell him, even though all he wanted to do was to be with the child that had been lost to him for so long.

Elladan and Aragorn both had breathed a sigh of relief as they watched Elrond leave Elrohir’s side--Elrohir hadn’t awoken while he had been there, so they still had time to prepare their father for his possible reaction.  Of course, now came the hard part of actually knowing what to say.

The brothers had naturally decided that it would be Elladan who did most of the talking--as the eldest he almost always ended up being the spokesman for the siblings, especially when they expected that Elrond’s reaction might be…well, less than pleasant.

But although the boys were expecting their father to be upset and hard to talk to, Elrond himself put them at ease when he softly smiled and said, “Very well, my sons, I am ready to hear what you have to relate to me.  I promise I will listen faithfully, but I only request that you keep the narrative as short as possible, as I am quite anxious to sit with your brother.”

His sons were very relieved to hear this normal-sounding, reasonable statement from their father.  They had both been concerned when Elrond had appeared so flustered earlier.  This father--the composed, calm one--was one that they were familiar with and were much more comfortable talking to.

Knowing that he just had to start somewhere, Elladan took a deep breath and began, “Ada, I’m sorry we insisted on talking to you when I know you only wish to be with Elrohir right now, but there are some important things that you must know before you see him.”

After a gentle nod of understanding from Elrond, he continued, “It should come as no surprise to you that Elrohir had a very difficult time while he was missing.  Obviously, only the most trying circumstances would have kept him from us for so long.  And…the situation he was found in was most trying, indeed.”

Before continuing, Elladan looked at his brother questioningly, giving his brother one last chance to take over the narrative…this part of the story really belonged to Estel, so he should be the one to tell his father about how Elrohir had been found.  The young man, however, gave a sharp shake of his head.  He’d rather let Elladan do the talking for now and would fill in details only if it were necessary.  He was by no means afraid to talk to his father, but now that they were home and the journey was complete, his emotions were playing disturbing games with him.  The frustrations and heartache of those first long weeks when he had to deal with a very troublesome brother all alone were unexpectedly resurfacing now that they were finally safe and the responsibility of bringing his brother home was behind him.  He was disturbed that his joy at being home was dampened by lingering, apparently unresolved feelings about his brother’s reaction to him.  For now, this translated into a firm desire to not relive everything by having to tell the story himself, so he waited silently for Elladan to start the tale.

The young elf acknowledged his brother’s unspoken request and continued with a concerned grimace, “I don’t know of any way to soften this, Ada, nor lead up to it gently, so forgive me if what I say is distressingly blunt.”  He paused a moment before continuing, “Ada, Estel found Elrohir in the western reaches, a…a slave with no memory of who he is.  It has taken us many months to return home, but he…even after all that time, still has no recollections of his past.  He remembers nothing of our lives here--not about our home and our ways and not about our people.  He did not remember Estel, nor…nor even myself.  And, Ada, I am deeply sorry but he will not remember you, either.”

At these words, Elladan stopped and looked at his father.  How would the elven lord react to the knowledge that his son wouldn’t know him?  Wouldn’t know anything about who or what he was?  He studied his father’s face, hoping to catch a glimpse of his reaction thus far.

Elladan was unable to tell anything of his father’s thoughts by looking at him, though.  Elrond’s face showed none of what he was feeling.  In fact, he may just as well been receiving an account of the year’s grain harvest, so unaffected did he appear.  Inside, however, the elven lord’s stomach was in knots.  This was far worse than he’d feared.  Physical wounds could be healed.  Emotional wounds, however, the kind that had probably stolen his son’s memories, could destroy the soul.  He had seen firsthand the lasting damage trauma could cause the psyche as he’d watched his beloved Celebrian fade away before his eyes--he couldn’t imagine the tragedy of seeing the same thing happen to one of his children.  He forced himself to betray none of these fears to his son, however.  He needed to hear all of what Elladan had to tell him and knew that an emotional reaction would only distress his sons.

Finally, realizing that he’d get no response from his father at this point, Elladan continued, “We don’t exactly know what happened to cause his memory loss.  Other than what we directly observed and the scant details that Estel learned from those who had enslaved Elrohir, we have found no clues to how he was taken from us.  He has told us nothing at all himself, which is not really surprising since, in fact…he only recently started speaking at all.”

At that, an unintentional frown flickered across Elrond’s face, causing Elladan to pause for a moment.  So this news, apparently, disturbed his father.  Did it mean that Elrond thought that something was gravely wrong with Elrohir?  Did he recognize that behavior as a symptom of something that would bode ill for his brother?  With an unhappy frown of his own, Elladan decided to go into more detail about just what condition their brother was in when they first found him, hoping that with more information, his father, Middle Earth’s greatest healer, would tell him that he knew exactly how to heal his twin.  “Ada,” he said, “when Estel found Elrohir and when I first joined them, Elrohir was much worse than you’ll find him now.  He was quite hostile, not recognizing Estel at all and became violent when touched.  As well, he would speak to no one.  Estel, of course, could only guess that Elrohir did not recognize him, based on the expression in his eyes as well as his hostile reactions.”

Elladan once again paused, but then almost huffed in frustration as he saw his father, expressionless, waiting for him to continue.  He wished his father would give some kind of sign as to what he was thinking!

“At any rate,” he continued with a slightly irritated scowl, “Estel arranged to buy him, but Elrohir was very antagonistic at first and wouldn’t go with him.  The overseer, in some sort of misguided attempt to help, gave Elrohir a rather potent mixture of herbs to subdue him, which left him dazed but relatively obedient.  They apparently had used this periodically to keep Ro compliant, so that could have been affecting his reactions to Estel earlier…we just don’t know.  And before you ask, Ada, we don’t know what the drugs were, but we do have a sample with us for you to examine later.”

Elrond glanced over at his young human son, and was surprised to see that he was looking rather miserable at the moment.  He was just starting to realize that the trip had been quite difficult for them all--not just Elrohir, but all his sons.  He knew he’d have to find the time to speak to each of them individually and comfort them at some point, but for now, he still needed to hear the rest of what had happened to his lost child.

Knowing that his own serene behavior could reassure his sons, Elrond finally spoke for the first time since Elladan began his story, “I will be very interested in testing the herbs.  Thank you for bringing them home.  Have they seemed to have any lasting effects on your brother?”

Elladan and Aragorn both shook their heads.  “Nay,” answered Elladan.  “They did last quite a while…months in fact.  But they now have apparently worn off.  Elrohir had an accident several weeks ago and ever since then, we have seen no signs of lingering effects from the drugs.”

“Accident?” asked Elrond, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes…” began Elladan, rather hesitantly.  This was the one part of the story that he really didn’t feel like relating, and turned to his little brother for help.

With a small, understanding smile, Aragorn took over the tale, “You see, Ada, Elrohir reacted to us very…inconsistently, for the longest while.  I believe it was the fault of the drugs, for he shows none of that behavior now.  But from the time I found him until the accident, he would flit between being friendly, then antagonistic, and then mindlessly obedient.  We never knew which of those behaviors would come forth when dealing with him, which was rather confusing of course, but that is not exactly what caused the accident.  That came about when he was in one of his obedient modes.  I asked him to sit down and get some dinner and he apparently took me too literally, for he did sit down but then grabbed the cookpot, burning his hands rather badly.” 

Aragorn looked over to his brother, not wanting to relate the next part if Elladan wanted to keep it for some later date.  His brother, however, gestured for him to continue.

“The aftermath of the accident was even more of a problem.  Things became a bit…tense…and some unfortunate things were said and as a result, Elrohir ran away from us,” Aragorn said, satisfied that he described the most important point without putting any blame on Elladan.

Elrond was certainly able to read between the lines--it was clear that Elladan was unhappy with his part in this particular scene, so he had apparently been the one who had said ‘unfortunate things.’  He would definitely have to get details later, but for now, Elrond wanted to find out what happened next.  Gently he said, “Go on…”

Elladan once again took up the narrative, pleased that his father was not asking for specifics right now, “It was the morning after he was injured that we found him.  Actually, he called to us--it was the first time he’d spoken at all and it seemed to be a turning point.  Since that time, he has slowly come to trust us and now interacts with us in an almost normal fashion.  He hasn’t displayed any of those strange behaviors since that time, either, and has been quite personable.  The only remaining problem, other than his hands, is his lack of memory.”

“You say he trusts you.  How does he feel about others?” Elrond wanted to know.  If his son saw himself as a slave, he may have trouble interacting with people he did not know.

“We don’t know, Ada,” answered Aragorn.  “We came across Minalus on the outskirts of the forest and Erestor in the halls, but Elrohir was asleep for both those encounters.  Other than those times, we kept to the less-traveled paths and had not met up with anyone, so we do not know if his early hostile reactions were a product of the drugs or something else.  Thus, we are concerned with how he will react to seeing strange faces, Ada.  And we don’t know if he will still have problems with any sort of physical contact.  And…so we don’t know if he will be upset when he first sees you.”

Elrond pondered their words as he considered all the other questions he still had.  So his son might be disturbed by his presence?  That was a heartbreaking thought.  And what other unhappy surprises might be waiting for him?  He knew that there had to be a lot of details that he hadn’t heard yet, but didn’t know where he should start with his questions.  How long had Elrohir been held a slave?  What sort of cruelties had he suffered?  How had the other slaves treated him?  Had he been befriended by any of them or had he been all alone?  Was the slavemaster unduly harsh?  Had Elrohir been beaten?  Did he remember any of his old skills?  Archery?  Swordsmanship?  Riding?  Did he display any part of his old personality?….and so on.  Elrond could have launched into any number of questions, but instead decided to hold back.  He had the key details he needed, so the rest could wait until after he’d spent some time with his son.

Having decided that he’d heard enough for now, he glanced over at his other two boys, who were looking at him miserably.  He wanted to go to Elrohir, but first things first!  These boys needed to be reassured that he was not upset by their news and that he would handle his first moments with their brother wisely.  But more importantly, his boys needed to know just how proud he was of them.  Despite the hardship he knew they must have faced, they persevered and had brought Elrohir home at last.

Elrond stood up and walked to them, wordlessly pulling to their feet and then wrapping them both in a warm hug.  After several long moments while the three of them simply held each other, he spoke softly to them, “You know I am so proud of you two.  It is apparent that the journey home has been difficult in the extreme for you, yet you have endured and brought your brother safely to me.  Elrohir could have no better brothers than you two…and I could have no better sons.  Thank you for what you have done and…for just being you.”

After releasing them, he continued, “And now, dear ones, I believe your beds are calling you.”  He held up his hand as they began to protest.  “I understand that you wish to remain here and ensure that Elrohir’s reaction to being home is a calm one, but you will be too tired to be much good in the morning if you do not find any rest.  I promise I will take care to do nothing startling in case he awakens before your return in the morning, but for now, I will sit with him alone while you find rest in your chambers.”

With the thought of their inviting beds beckoning them, Elladan and Aragorn suddenly realized just how tired they both were.  Knowing from the tone their father had used that they would not be able to convince him to let them stay and honestly aching to be in bed, they relented, said their goodnights, and quietly went to their own rooms, content that they could turn their brother’s care over to someone else at long last.

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After seeing his other sons off to their beds, Elrond once more entered his middle son’s room and gazed down upon his sleeping boy.  Now that he knew some small piece of what Elrohir had been through, his joy at seeing his son was tempered by great sorrow.  “Oh, what did they do to you, my beautiful son?” he murmured quietly as he gently brushed some stray hairs off Elrohir’s forehead.  His fingertips tingled at the contact.  This was the first time he’d touched his boy in forever and the brief contact made him yearn for more.  But he knew that physical touches had disturbed his boy before, so he decided he would leave him alone for now.  He also fought the urge to simply waken him, just so he could at least see his son’s eyes and hear his voice.  Instead, he fussed with the covers, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles until he realized with a sigh that there really was nothing he could do to help his son this night. 

After standing and looking at Elrohir for endless moments, he finally pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, determined to keep a silent vigil over the sleeping elf until he awoke.  After only a short time, however, he found himself fidgeting, something that was completely foreign to the typically serene elf.  Restless and unable to sit still, Elrond found himself drawn to the window and the stars that he could see shining brightly in the night sky.  Always they were a source of comfort to him and he hoped that they could help him find peace this night. 

As he leaned on the windowsill and looked out into the dark, Elrond thought about what he’d learned of Elrohir’s ordeal.  Unfortunately, he realized that the stars would bring no comfort as he considered all that his child had endured.  One of his incredible sons--a slave!  Beaten, tormented, all alone without even the comfort of knowing that there were those who loved him.  These thoughts were almost more than a father could bear, but rather than causing him to despair, Elrond found himself fighting a nearly overpowering anger as he imagined his son’s life over the past few years.  Only the knowledge that his son was safe beside him kept him from flying into a rage.  That, and the understanding that Elrohir waking up to the scene of an elven lord in his full fury would most certainly frighten the young elf.  As it was, Elrond remained near the window, trembling with anger and wishing that he could find someone to punish for what they’d done to his precious son.

After standing there long enough to finally regain control, he walked over to the bed, reassuring himself once more that Elrohir was as well as could be expected.  As he once more fought the urge to take him into his arms, he railed against the fates that had restored his son to him, but still denied him the chance to hold his dear child in a protecting embrace.

Frustrated and unable to settle anywhere, he continued to pace the room restlessly.  Finding his way back at the window, Elrond sighed and looked back at the stars, still unable to find any solace in their soft beauty this night.  The long-held feelings of doubt and guilt once more surfaced as he wondered if he could have spared Elrohir any of his trials if he’d listened to Elladan immediately.  Was it his own fault that his son now lay there, all knowledge of who and what he was stolen away by some as yet unknown trauma? 

The elven lord felt ill as he contemplated just what his hesitation may have cost his son.  What sort of impact had all this had on him?  Whether or not he regained his memories, would his spirit be forever scarred by his brutal past?  Was the brave warrior who valiantly fought against evil gone forever?  And the loving brother and son…was he, too unreachable?  And what about the light-hearted sprite full of mirth and joy who had graced Rivendell with his merry ways for millennia?  Had he vanished as well?  Was there anything left of their Elrohir other than just a physical shell?  There were so many questions that only could be answered with time, but Elrond wasn’t sure if he wanted to find the answers if it meant that his son was truly lost to him. 

Only once before had Elrond faced a similar crisis when he’d feared for his sons’ souls.  After they had found their mother, tormented nearly to death by orcs, it had been centuries before the twins recovered enough for their true natures to brightly shine through.  In those intervening years, they had been but sad and angry reflections of their former selves and Elrond feared that they might be facing the same thing again.  Would it be more eternal, gloomy years before Elrohir would be truly restored to them?  Or worse yet, had he, like his mother, suffered so much that he’d never recover?  And what of Elladan?  Yes, Elrond knew that he must worry for both twins, for he knew that if Elrohir’s spirit should fall into darkness, his twin’s would most surely follow.

Elrond allowed himself to plunge deeper into bleak misery as he imagined a future filled with sadness.  At some level, he knew this conjecture was premature since he didn’t yet know yet the extent of the damage done to Elrohir, but he found himself unable to break out of his self-imposed despair.  The guilt he felt certainly was feeding it, and he may have spent the next several hours lost in doubt and grief, except for a small sound from the bed that diverted his attention.

He quickly crossed the room to where Elrohir lay and frowned as he saw that Elrohir had suddenly become restless, tossing back and forth in the obvious throes of a nightmare.  Considering how exhausted Elrohir had been and how deeply he’d been sleeping, a nightmare was certainly not unexpected, but Elrond found himself wondering what he should do about it.  In times past, Elrond would know exactly how to soothe away his son’s fears, but now he found himself uncertain as to how he should proceed.  Even though Elrohir had apparently allowed his brothers to touch him, the elven lord was under no illusions that this meant that his son would not react negatively if he did the same.  Still, he couldn’t just stand there and watch his son battle an unknown foe without at least trying to reassure him. 

Tentatively, Elrond reached out and put a light hand on his son’s shoulder.  Elrohir’s unconscious reaction was immediate as he turned his face toward the hand and seemed to try to get closer to the comfort it offered.  Encouraged by this response and thrilled for the opportunity to have any sort of contact with his son, Elrond gingerly sat on the bedside and then used his other hand to tenderly stroke his face.  To his surprise and delight, Elrohir’s distressed frown lessened at this new contact and prompted Elrond to take a final, bold step.  His heart thudded loudly as he threw caution to the wind and did what he’d longed to do all night, arranging himself comfortably against the headboard and pulling his agitated son into his arms.  With this last move, Elrohir’s restless movements disappeared completely as he relaxed into his father’s arms, peaceful at last.

Elrond grinned as he leaned back and gave his son a small squeeze, feeling like he had as a small elfling when he’d done something naughty.  His intellectual side had been insisting that he give Elrohir time and space to get to know him before he attempted any form of contact, but his heart had been yearning to do exactly what he was doing right now.  As he looked at the beloved face just inches from his own and felt the solid, warm body in his arms, Elrond smiled in contentment as he came to the firm conclusion that sometimes…sometimes you just had to forget about being wise and listen to your heart.

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The rest of the night passed quietly for father and son as Elrond held his child.  His presence kept Elrohir’s nightmares from returning while Elrohir’s presence distracted Elrond from his earlier depressed thoughts.  Together, they were content.

Elrond didn’t sleep at all, though, while he held his son.  The years of worry and sleepless nights had drained the elven lord, but the overriding joy of having his son back and safe in his arms kept him wide awake all night, unwilling to give up even a moment of his happiness by losing it to sleep.

He wasn’t idle, however.  The healer in him used this opportunity to examine his son as best he could without releasing him from his arms.  Overall, Elrohir was in much better shape than Elrond would have thought.  True, he was worn out, but other than that, his hands were the only injury that needed any kind of attention and they appeared to be well on their way to being healed.  His heart swelled with pride at the wonderful job his other sons had done in caring for Elrohir.  Their healing skills were evident when he noted that Elrohir’s hands would fully heal due to their meticulous attention.  He wished he could know how Elrohir’s other problems would turn out--the loss of memory as well as the possible emotional scars from his years of hardship, but Elrond knew he’d have to wait to find those answers.  As it was, he decided to take one moment at a time and for now, he was content to simply have his son back.

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Elrohir finally began to awaken early the next morning, a slow arduous process as he pulled himself out of his exhausted sleep.  His first awareness was the sensation of someone holding him.  Comforted and assuming it was one of his brothers, he adjusted himself slightly as he got more comfortable and then slipped once again into a restful sleep.  About an hour later, he awoke a second time, but this time was aware enough to note several unexpected things.  First, he was no longer outside, but in a beautifully decorated room.  Second, he was in a soft, warm bed.  And third, it wasn’t one of his brother’s holding him.

He tilted his head up so he could look into the face of the one who cradled him so gently.  It was an older male elf.  One who looked down at him with such love and tenderness that it was impossible to feel any alarm.  He couldn’t quite figure out just where he was and who could be holding him, but he knew that he’d never felt so safe in his life. 

The elven lord couldn’t read any of these thoughts in Elrohir’s confused expression, however, and tried to suppress the feeling of sick dread in his stomach that accompanied his son’s waking.  He had treasured holding his son throughout the night and wouldn’t have traded that time with him for anything, but he hadn’t planned to be holding him when Elrohir awakened.  He had planned to lay him back down hours ago so that he wouldn’t startle him when he awoke.  But every time he had considered it, he had chosen to keep holding his son, ‘for just a few more moments.’  Kicking himself mentally for allowing his selfish need to hold his son get in the way of doing the wise thing, he had to force himself to not show any of his uncertainties as he spoke to his son for the first time in almost three years.

As Elrohir looked around in sleepy bewilderment, the elf addressed him in a deep, low voice, “Welcome home, dear one.  I’ve waited so long for your return.”  He paused a long moment before continuing, “Do you know who I am?”

Elrond held his breath as he waited for his son’s answer.  This was the moment of truth.  Although he’d been warned by his other sons that Elrohir had lost all his past memories, in some way he’d felt sure that his case would be different--his child wouldn’t forget his father.  A troubled look answered his question, however, even before Elrohir shook his head, his brow crumpled in confusion.  With a small sigh, Elrond was forced to accept the unwelcome truth.  His son didn’t know him. 

The sharp pang of sorrow and hurt were set aside as Elrond quickly worked through what to tell Elrohir now.  He would examine his own feelings later, but for now he must concentrate on making sure that Elrohir didn’t react badly to him.  Hoping against hope that Elrohir wouldn’t become frightened and try to pull away, Elrond said soothingly, “Do not be alarmed.  You’re home now in Imladris...and quite safe.”  

With a warm smile gracing his face, Elrond risked running his thumb lovingly along Elrohir’s cheek as he added, “Your brothers tell me that you have a bit of trouble remembering, so I would introduce myself.  I am Elrond, your father--and I am so very happy to see you.”

As Elrond waited for Elrohir to say or do something, he studied his son’s face, wondering what his reaction would be and what was going through his thoughts.  What did one think when they woke up in a stranger’s arms and then were told that the stranger was their father?  Knowing he had heard only a fraction of the hardships that Elrohir had endured, Elrond hoped that he’d at least be able to reassure the young elf that he wouldn’t hurt him.  He considered laying him back on the bed, but for the moment, his son hadn’t tried to pull away, so he held on to him, cherishing the feeling of the living, breathing son who looked up at him.

Elrond would have been amazed and immensely gratified by his son’s thoughts.  Far from being full of the hostility and anger that the elven lord had feared, Elrohir was strangely content.  As he considered what he’d just heard, he looked with wonder at the elf in whose arms he still rested.  This was his father.  This amazing elf who simply radiated strength, power, and love was his father!  Not at all alarmed, Elrohir’s thoughts were filled with delight.  What did one say?  ‘Hello?’  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you?’  It simply wasn’t enough.  An incredible joy and warmth grew inside him as he took in everything...he was home--and he belonged with this unbelievably wonderful elf holding him! 

Knowing that words couldn’t adequately express what he was feeling, Elrohir instead did something he wouldn’t have imagined he would ever do and would have shocked his brothers.  Wordlessly, he twisted in his father’s arms and, catching Elrond completely by surprise, wrapped his own arms around him in the tightest hug he could manage.  It was nothing like the firm, strong hugs that Elrond was accustomed to from his sons, but it was so sweet that the elven lord found his vision blurred by tears as he tightened his own arms around Elrohir.  With eyes closed in gratitude, he choked back a sob as he kissed the top of his son’s head and thanked the heavens for the unexpected and priceless gift of his son’s acceptance.

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