Chapter 11, Healing

It was a greatly despondent figure that sat alone on the parapet for hours, shrouded in misery.  Elrohir wasn’t even aware of the passing of time as his dark thoughts consumed him.  Grim ideas drifted in and out of his consciousness…ideas of ridding his family of his worthless presence.  Ideas that would take him away from his family and the possibility of ever letting them down again.  Ideas of hiding, ideas of running away, even ideas of finding a way to end his misery permanently. 

It was that final thought that Elrohir toyed with for quite some time.  He so despised himself that for awhile he couldn’t get past the thought that everyone would be better off if he wasn’t around.  If he had not been an elf, perhaps the long drop off the tower would have tempted Elrohir with a quick solution to his problem, but taking one’s own life was simply not something that an elf, even a deeply depressed one without memories, could seriously contemplate.   Life was sacred to these immortal beings and Elrohir, despite his despondency, eventually recognized that that was just not an action that he would be able to take.

Trapped, therefore, in a lonely cycle of self-hatred and inability to act, he debated internally for hours on what to do.  At first he was unable to come up with any solution—there was no way out of his misery, but he simply couldn’t continue on as he was.  However, unbeknownst to him, the inner strength and courage that was an innate part of the young elf hadn’t abandoned him entirely.  Slowly it forced him to refocus his energies on finding a way to improve his situation and so eventually he decided that instead of ridding his family of his worthless presence, he’d find a way to make himself useful.  Somehow, some way, he determined, he would find a way to earn his family’s approval and prove to them that he could be worthy of their regard.

Tucked into a corner of his tower refuge, Elrohir may have sat for many more hours as he worked through his strategy, but fortunately was brought back to reality by the call of a night warbler that was hopping all around the unhappy elf.  Flying high over the tall towers that adorned the home of Rivendell’s lord, the little bird had spied him curled up on the parapet and, curious, had descended lower and landed on the edge of the railing that ringed the top of the tower.  It had hopped around, waiting to see what manner of creature had entered its world, but when Elrohir didn’t move, it had finally called out in its small voice, trilling a greeting to the silent elf.

Elrohir’s head shot up in surprise as the bird’s call penetrated his thoughts.  He had been completely oblivious to the long passage of time and realized with alarm what the little bird’s presence meant.  The night warbler only came out at dusk...which meant that he was late for dinner.

*No!* was his only thought.  He couldn’t be late!  So much for his plan to earn his family’s regard.  His first act would be to show up late to dinner, only adding to his long list of disgraces.  Pausing only to send a short nod of thanks to the little bird for his timely arrival, Elrohir leapt to his feet and pushed through the door. 

The troubled elf flew down the spiraling stairs, leaping down several at a time in his haste.  He just couldn’t be late!  He raced down at an ever-increasing pace in his frenzy, his still irrational thoughts telling him that being late to dinner would be just another testament of his unreliability.  Naturally, the bad luck that had plagued the younger twin for some time coupled with his hurry and distraction led to the inevitable conclusion.  After managing to safely descend over half-way down the tower, Elrohir misjudged his landing after jumping over several stairs and...his foot slipped off the edge of the stair and he pitched forward abruptly.  Throwing out his arms to catch himself, he gasped when his wrist took the full weight of his fall and his left hand twisted beneath him, thus causing his shoulder to slam into the wall.  After seeing stars from crashing into the unyielding stone, the young elf next found himself careening out of control, falling head-over-heels down the stairs.  At first he desperately tried to slow his descent, but wicked fate intervened again and as he rounded a corner, his left foot drove into a wall and he felt a searing pain shoot up his leg as he heard the sickening sound of a bone snapping.  Following that, he gave up all pretense of trying to stop himself as his world shrank into a dizzying view of stairs, walls, and windows. 

When at last the hapless elf landed at the bottom, he simply lay there in shock as he tried to get his breathing under control and still his trembling limbs.  Thoroughly dazed and in overwhelming pain, Elrohir was unable to even comprehend what had just happened to him.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of a driving urgency to be somewhere, but the battered elf’s thoughts were so jumbled that he couldn’t even remember what that critical destination was.

It was several more minutes before he was able to move and even then Elrohir’s motions were slow and unsteady.  Knowing only that he had to be somewhere important, he tried to stand, pulling himself up the wall with his one good hand.  He leaned hard against the cold stone in order to keep himself upright as the pain of his broken ankle finally caught up with him.  Just moving it was agonizing and the confused elf gave a very uncharacteristic whimper as he realized that his injuries, both on the left side, would keep him from going anywhere.

He stayed upright, leaning against the wall in a daze before his head finally started to clear and his situation came into focus.  He shook his head as he remembered his ‘important’ appointment.  Obviously, getting to dinner on time was no longer even an issue.  The fact was, Elrohir was in trouble.  No one knew where he was and no one would come looking for him here--he had to get out of this cursed stairway and into the main part of the house before he could find much-needed help.  Taking a deep breath before he began, Elrohir pressed his shoulder into the wall, ignoring the pain from his myriad bruises, and slowly slid forward with a small hop, being as careful as possible not to jolt either his throbbing wrist or ankle. 

Progress was painfully slow, but he eventually made headway and reached the door leading from the stairway into the hall.  After a careful balancing act, Elrohir tugged it open and slid through, dismayed when he saw that the passageway beyond was equally empty.  With nothing to do but persevere, the injured elf continued to pull himself along the wall, inch by inch.  He didn’t know how much time had passed as he focused only on getting out of the side hall and into one of the main corridors where he was more likely to find someone who could aid him.

Time no longer had any meaning as Elrohir concentrated only on moving forward.  Over and over he repeated his movements—slide shoulder along wall, hop forward on right foot, slide shoulder along wall, hop forward on right foot.  He was making slow but steady progress and the door to the main corridor was only a few feet away when a side door he was leaning against opened without warning and he fell through…directly on to whomever was coming through said door. 

Completely unprepared, Elrohir and his hapless victim fell onto the floor in a tangle of limbs.  The young elf had no time to steel himself for the inevitable pain from banging his injured limbs and cried out as he and the other elf slammed into the floor.  

Momentarily awash in pain, Elrohir was unable to even pull himself off of the elf beneath him.  But fortunately the other elf wasn’t really injured in the fall, only startled, and was able to easily roll his ‘attacker’ off him, at which point the elf exclaimed in astonishment, “Elrohir, what in all of Arda happened to you!?”

Elrohir looked up from where he was curled on the floor into the very surprised face of his father’s advisor, Erestor. 

“Erestor,” he said shakily.  “I am so glad to see you,” he continued as he tried to sit up.

The older elf quickly got to his knees and almost gasped in alarm as he took in the state of his lord’s son.  “Do not move,” he ordered, his concern evident in his voice.  He had no idea what had happened to the young elf, but he was certain that the best thing for Elrohir was to lie still while he assessed the situation.

It would have been impossible for anyone to be around Lord Elrond as long as Erestor had without picking up some knowledge of healing, and so he was able to quickly determine the worst of Elrohir’s injuries.  He was fairly certain that none of them were life-threatening, but they would be causing the young elf a great deal of pain and he needed to get him quickly to the infirmary.  He was also fairly certain, however, that he wasn’t strong enough to carry the tall, well-built elf all the way to the healing chambers. 

Cursing his own slight frame, Erestor knew he would need some help getting Elrohir to the infirmary, but he was loath to leave the injured elf alone.  He had watched Elrohir as a merry little elf grow into a strong, proud warrior and while the older elf was not as effusive as some others, Erestor still loved Elrohir dearly in his own, quiet way.  Many times when the twins had been small elflings, the calm, seemingly stern elf had cared for their little hurts and he thus found it hard to leave Elrohir while he was obviously in pain.  Reluctantly deciding that he’d have to do just that, however, he pressed a light hand on Elrohir’s chest and firmly warned the young elf to “stay here and lie still,” before getting up and rushing to find help.

Fortune was smiling on Erestor, for he had barely entered the main hall when he found just the person to help him.  Glorfindel was walking at the end of the corridor and turned when he heard his fellow advisor calling out to him.  At the anxious tones, he hurried over to his friend and was dismayed when Erestor told him of finding Elrohir injured.  The two quickly returned to where he had been left, hoping that the foolish elf had had the sense to listen for once and stay put!

Indeed, Elrohir hadn’t moved at all from where Erestor had left him.  Not only were his injuries telling him to lie still, but he was so grateful to have found someone to help him that he wasn’t about to make his father’s advisor angry by disobeying him.

Glorfindel skidded to his knees as he took in Elrohir’s disheveled appearance—he looked like he’d fought a warg...and lost.  Clothes ripped, hair unbound, scrapes and bruises covering all visible skin, including a rather vicious bruise across his cheek, wrist swollen and ankle dangling at an odd angle—Elrohir was a mess!  The elven lord hesitated a moment before touching the young elf, remembering the last time he’d tried, but then common sense told him that he’d have to touch Elrohir in order to help him.

“What have you done, young one?” he asked gently, keeping the alarm from his voice as he tentatively brushed the hair out of Elrohir’s face.

“I fell,” came the almost inaudible reply.

“How did it happen?” Glorfindel asked quietly.

“Glorfindel, explanations should wait till later,” interrupted Erestor.  “We must get him to the infirmary and find Lord Elrond.”

“Aye, you are right,” responded Glorfindel, seeing the wisdom in his friend’s words. 

He readied himself to pick up the injured elf and carefully tried to decide the best way to carry Elrohir without hurting him further.  Finally admitting there would be no way to avoid any pain, he said, “Elrohir, I will need to pick you up in order to take you to the healing chambers.  I promise I will be careful, but this may hurt a bit.  Are you ready?”

Determined not to make any sound to indicate weakness, Elrohir nodded quickly.  This was a simple matter for one who had been silent for years, so he took a deep breath and concentrated on remaining quiet as the large warrior gently scooped him up into his arms.

Erestor held open the door to the main hall as Glorfindel carried their young friend through.  After their way to the infirmary was clear, Erestor left them to find Elrond while Glorfindel continued on with Elrohir.  The great warrior hurried along, cradling the injured elf as if he were still a child.  He was sorry to see Elrohir hurt, of course, but secretly admitted to himself that he felt no small pleasure in the chance to care for the young elf that he, too, had helped raise and loved as his own.

In no time at all, he reached the infirmary and gently laid Elrohir onto the padded table in the center of the room.  He looked around, annoyed to find no healer rushing to his aid--in fact, there was no one there at all.  Elrond always insisted that the infirmary be staffed and would not be pleased to find that his son was injured and there was no one there to tend to him!  Anger fueled by worry rushed through the elf as he tried to decide what to do.  Elrohir had made no sound while he had been carried to the infirmary, but from his pinched, white face and pain-filled eyes, it was clear that the young elf needed immediate care.  He didn’t want to leave Elrohir alone to search for a healer, but he didn’t know how long he would be able to wait before someone showed up.  Before he could make up his mind on whether or not he should go, though, Nindal, one of Elrond’s many trained healers entered from the back store room and then stopped in shock as he saw a rather angry Lord Glorfindel glaring at him.

“Lord Glorfindel, what can I do for you?  Are you injured?” Nindal stammered.

“Do I look injured?” the angry elf answered sarcastically.  “What you can do for me is to tend to your patient who is lying on yon bed!” he finished, pointing to Elrohir.

Nindal had no idea what had angered the elven lord, but all concerns vanished when he saw an elf in need of his care, especially when he noted that it was Elrohir.  Not only was it his lord’s son who needed help, but Elrohir was also his friend.  Elrond had taught all his children the healing arts and Nindal had spent countless hours with him as the twins had diligently learned their lessons on caring for others.

“What happened to him?” Nindal asked Glorfindel, all business as he tried to determine the extent of Elrohir’s injuries.

“I am not certain,” answered Glorfindel, calming down and now sounding more worried than angry.  “But he said he fell.”

“You may ask me, you know,” interjected Elrohir a bit testily.  “My tongue was not injured, after all.”

“My apologies, Lord Elrohir,” said Nindal smoothly.  “Could you please tell me what happened?”

“I fell,” answered Elrohir somewhat defiantly.

Wanting to snicker at the irritated snort from Glorfindel at the unhelpful answer, Nindal carefully kept his face impassive as he questioned further, “And how did you fall?”

“I slipped,” answered Elrohir, apparently feeling rather contrary now and not about to tell the whole story without it being pried from him.

Jumping back into the conversation, Glorfindel asked skeptically, “Slipped?  Where?” Whatever had happened to the younger twin was more than just a little slip! 

“On some stairs,” clarified Elrohir with a glare for his rescuer.  “Would you like to know which ones?  Perhaps I should show you!” he stated with irritation as he tried to sit up.  His frazzled thoughts were taking Glorfindel’s questions as some kind of accusation and he wasn’t in the mood to tolerate anything at the moment.

“Peace, Lord Elrohir,” Nindal directed calmly, pushing the young elf back down.  “Details are unimportant right now.”

Turning to Glorfindel, he continued, “Perhaps you could go and locate Lord Elrond?  These injuries do not appear grievous, but I know he would wish to aid his son himself.”

“Erestor is already trying to find him, but I will go now and assist him,” answered Glorfindel, recognizing Nindal’s polite way of trying to get him to leave.  Obviously, Elrohir was tense and his presence wasn’t helping things.

He started to walk to the door, but then turned and went to Elrohir’s side.  Squeezing his uninjured hand lightly, he said quietly, “My apologies Elrohir.   I certainly did not mean to upset you.  I am only concerned for your well-being.”

Elrohir nodded tightly before turning away, the last of his energy draining away with his little outburst.  Now, he just wished everyone would leave him alone.  First the struggle to find help and then the painful jolting his body took when he was carried to the infirmary had exhausted him, leaving him only with a wish to sink into a dark oblivion and leave his pain and disturbing thoughts behind.

With a final small squeeze, Glorfindel walked away, leaving a relieved Nindal to take care of his patient.  He briskly went about pulling out the various supplies he’d need and was just beginning to cut the cuff of Elrohir’s tunic when Elrond burst through the doors.

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Erestor had found the elven lord already looking for his son, who had not arrived for their family dinner on time.  Despite Elrohir’s quiet and solitary tendencies, he had never failed to make an appearance when asked, so his family had been concerned and had all gone looking for him when he failed to come to dinner.  Erestor had found his lord searching in the twins’ rooms, and had informed him of Elrohir’s accident.  As a father and a healer, Elrond had then wasted no time in hurrying to the healing chambers where he found Nindal carefully cutting the sleeve of Elrohir’s tunic.

“Nindal, what happened?” asked Elrond, rushing over to his son’s side.

The younger healer looked up from his work and greeted his lord, “He fell down some stairs, my lord.  I was just removing his clothes so I could see what damage had been done.”

Letting his assistant continue what he was doing, Elrond moved to stand near his son’s head and asked him tenderly, “How do you feel, Elrohir?”

Elrohir had been lying quietly ever since his angry outburst at Glorfindel and was beginning to feel utterly wretched as he realized that he’d now have to face his father’s disappointment.  He just didn’t feel strong enough to see the unhappiness that he knew would be reflected in his father’s face.  Still, he at least tried to answer the question.  The young elf hesitantly looked at his father and admitted miserably, “I hurt.”

The elven lord laughed softly and answered, “Yes, I expect that you do.  It was a rather foolish question, was it not?”

Elrond waited for his son to answer but was disappointed when Elrohir wouldn’t respond to him and instead, turned his head away wearily.  The sad father looked down upon his broken child and wanted to weep.  Once again he thought of the despair that had robbed him of his beloved wife and feared that he may be facing the same tragedy again. 

Then determination entered his soul.  No...he would not lose this child as well!  Going to work quickly, he and Nindal finished cutting off Elrohir’s clothes and assessed the damaged he’d done to himself.  Fortunately, other than a large amount of severe bruising and some scrapes, the only real damage was a badly sprained wrist and a broken ankle. 

 *Oh Elrohir, I wish the fates would leave you alone for once,* Elrond thought to himself with a sigh as he covered up his son with a sheet and then went over to prepare a draught of his special tea.  He wanted to make sure Elrohir felt as little pain as possible when he set his ankle and wrapped his wrist.

The potion was ready in short order and Elrond returned to his son’s side with a full cup.  With Nindal’s assistance, he levered him up and helped him drink the bitter tea.  Shuddering at the nasty aftertaste but grateful that he’d be feeling its affects soon, Elrohir closed his eyes wearily when he was laid back down.  This was not how he’d planned to gain his family’s confidence!  Perhaps he had been right the first time.  He was worthless and they would be better off without him!

None of the young elf’s thoughts were visible to his anxious father, who quickly and expertly set his ankle and then wrapped his wrist.  Neither was a very severe injury, but since they were both on the same side, Elrohir would be bedridden for several days until his ankle was strong enough to support him as his damaged wrist would not allow him to use a crutch.  This thought concerned his father, who didn’t know how this latest setback would affect his moody son, but he knew that there was nothing to do for that right now.

With the worst injuries cared for, Elrond and Nindal then began to look to the myriad superficial injuries that covered Elrohir’s body.  Scrapes, bruises, and bumps were spread over his skin and Elrond also suspected several pulled muscles that would need later massaging to ease.  Grimly setting to work, he pulled out a jar of soothing ointment just as Elladan and Aragorn came tearing into the infirmary.

Glorfindel had found the two of them wandering the halls in search of their brother and the two had rushed to the infirmary as soon as they’d heard that he had been in some sort of accident.

Aragorn said nothing as he silently watched his father and Nindal hover over his brother, cleaning scrapes and wrapping bandages where needed. 

Elladan, though, in his worry began to berate his twin to relieve his tension.

“Ro, what did you do this time?” he asked with a scowl.  “You must learn to take more care!”

Elrohir was feeling a bit light-headed from the tea, but frowned when he heard his twin’s tone.  Hurting and feeling more like an idiot than ever, he sorrowfully noted that his twin was angry with him!  “I just fell,” he mumbled wretchedly.

“Just fell?  Ro, you did less damage when you ‘just fell’ from a tree!  What were you doing anyway?” Elladan demanded, once again sounding annoyed in order to hide an almost overwhelming fear.  He couldn’t imagine what had happened to his twin in the safety of their home and was secretly panic-stricken at the thought that maybe Elrohir had injured himself on purpose!

The effect of his words on Elrohir, however, was obvious to all except his twin and Elrond looked sharply at his eldest—didn’t he realize what his words were doing to his brother?  This was not the time to be berating Elrohir!  Wanting to stay and finish caring for his son but realizing the greater need to get Elladan away from his twin before he did any more damage, Elrond turned to his youngest and asked, “Estel, could you finish here?  Nindal can help you if you need assistance.  Elladan and I have something we need to take care of.”

Aragorn agreed quietly while a puzzled and frustrated Elladan followed his father out of the room.

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After their father had taken Elladan out of the room, Aragorn and Nindal went to work finishing up caring for the injuries on the front of Elrohir’s body and then oh-so-carefully turned him over.   There weren’t enough potions and creams to finish the job, so they covered Elrohir up while they pulled the rest of the supplies from the cabinet and then brought them over to his bedside.  Aragorn knew that he was more than capable of caring for his brother and he also wanted some time alone with him, so after quick words with Nindal during which the older elf warned him to be careful of Elrohir’s strained muscles, Nindal went back to organizing the storeroom and left Aragorn to finish caring for Elrohir’s wounds.  Finally ready, the young man pulled the sheets down to his brother’s waist, wincing as he contemplated the many scrapes and dark bruises that covered his back.  Elrohir was certainly going to be feeling this for a few days.

He opened up a jar of ointment and then carefully rubbed it into one of the scraped patches, glancing at the elf’s face to see if he was causing too much pain.  But Elrohir had turned his head to one side and just stared straight ahead, not indicating in any way that he even noticed what his brother was doing.

When he had finished with the scrapes, Aragorn uncorked a small bottle of oil and worked it into his hands before carefully pressing his palms into Elrohir’s shoulders.  He shook his head as he felt the muscles, rock-solid with tension.  Nindal had been right—Elrohir’s muscles were as tight as any he’d ever felt and he needed to relax them before the wounded elf would be able to rest.  He gently started massaging his shoulders, being careful to avoid the bruises where he could, but he was dismayed to feel that Elrohir was tensing up even more.

“Relax, Ro,” murmured the young man quietly, “this is to make you feel better, not worse.”

Elrohir shifted under his hands as if trying to pull away.  “You needn’t do this,” he said flatly.

But Aragorn just smiled and continued anyway, telling his brother, “You are quite tense and have strained some muscles.  This will help you rest.”

“Please stop.  I am fine,” said the young elf as firmly as he could manage while he tried once again to pull his shoulders away from Aragorn’s strong hands.

“You most assuredly are not!” laughed his brother.  “Now lie still.”

Elrohir glanced up at him and then turned his head away before asking, “Why do you help me?  I only cause you trouble.”

“What are you saying, Elrohir?” Aragorn asked, mystified at his brother’s words.

Maybe it was the pain.  Maybe it was the depths of desolation that he’d fallen to, but for some reason, Elrohir found himself inexplicably telling his brother his deepest feelings.

“You should not be helping me.  I am not worthy of your care,” said the sad young elf, his self-loathing finally apparent to his brother.

Aragorn stopped his ministrations, stunned to hear the utter desolation in his brother’s voice.  How had they let it get to this?  How had they not seen just how terribly unhappy Elrohir had become?  He supposed that it was partly Elrohir’s fault for hiding his feelings from them, but Aragorn was upset with himself for not seeing before how far things had gone.

After a deep breath, he said, “Elrohir, you are obviously under the misguided impression that we should care for you only if you somehow earn it.  You could not be more wrong.” 

Seeing no response one way or the other from Elrohir, Aragorn paused a moment before deciding exactly what to say.  He needed to be precise with his words so as not to make anything worse.

Thinking quickly, after a deep breath the young man asked, “Do you remember the story of how I came to live with you?”  After a long pause, Elrohir finally gave a small nod and then Aragorn continued, “You have heard Elladan speak of that time and Ada as well, but you never heard me tell you my recollections.  In truth, Elrohir, it is not that you have forgotten what I said in the past, because even before you lost your memories, I never told you what I am about to tell you now.”

Aragorn gently started the massage again on Elrohir’s shoulders and back as he continued, “You heard Elladan speak of the two of you coming to my home with my father’s body and bringing me and my mother back to live with you here.  And of course Ada spoke of my early days here.  But you have not heard that I also remember certain things about those times very clearly.  Indeed I was extremely young, but I still recall many things—perhaps because it was all so life-changing—but none-the-less I still remember.  For instance, I recall seeing you and Elladan for the first time.  I had never seen elves before and was so amazed when I saw the two of you—I thought for awhile that all elves must look alike!” 

He smiled at the thought before continuing, “You both were very quiet and serious at first so when I met you I also thought elves were especially severe and frightening.  Elladan—he remained that way the entire trip home and so it wasn’t until later that I realized that he wasn’t really so stern and imposing.  But you...you were different right away.  After we left my home and took to the forests, you made a point of taking a sad, frightened little boy and showering him with attention.  You let me ride in front of you on your horse.  You carried me on your shoulders and pointed out things of interest on our journey.  You told me stories at night and wrapped me in your cloak when it grew chilly.  I felt so safe and secure...and special with you.  I never thanked you before for what you did for me back then, Elrohir, but I thank you now.  And so if you ever doubt that you have earned my care and affection a thousand times over, just know that you showed that little boy...me...that my life hadn’t ended with my father’s death and there were still things in life that I could be happy about.  Even if you never remember it yourself, I will remember it for the both of us.”

Aragorn paused for a moment as he remembered those times, amazed that even after all these years, the memories were still powerful.  He looked at Elrohir’s face, pleased to see that some of the bleakness had faded as his brother pondered his words.  With a little smile, he poured out some more oil and worked it into his hands before starting in on the lower back.  His brother hissed as he hit a particularly tense spot, but then he could feel Elrohir slowly relaxing as his strong hands eased the soreness from his back.

Picking up his narrative, he went on, “And your kindness didn’t stop once we arrived home, you realize.  Over the years, in every way that mattered, you and Elladan became my brothers.  Did you know that you two were the ones who first taught me to handle a bow?  Or took me on my first hunting trip?  Or that you helped me climb my first tree and taught me to swim?”  Small shakes of Elrohir’s head told Aragorn that his brother was at least following what he was saying, so he continued, “You and Elladan also introduced me to the pleasures of midnight raids on the kitchen, and of course, numerous...uh, innocent pranks on deserving elders.”  With an affectionate smile he continued, “Ro, I do so wish you could remember all our good times so you would see that you never have to doubt your worth to us.”

Aragorn saw that Elrohir was frowning slightly and decided to change focus to help his brother truly understand what he was saying.  “Elrohir, let me put it thus, if Elladan or Ada were hurt, terribly hurt, and could no longer do the same things that they do now, would you think any less of them?”

The young ranger smiled at the Elrohir’s shocked expression as he vigorously shook his head.

“I thought not,” he said firmly.  “Well, dear brother, it is the same with you.  Whether or not you acknowledge it, you were hurt badly and have still not recovered.  We do not think less of you for it—in truth, your health and happiness is all we wish for.”

“But I am afraid,” admitted Elrohir, so low that Aragorn almost didn’t hear him.

Instinctively knowing that this was a key to whatever Elrohir was feeling, Aragorn asked quietly, “Afraid, Ro?  Afraid of what?”

At first he thought his brother wouldn’t answer, but at last he heard a very bitter, “Afraid of disappointing those I care for…afraid of doing the wrong thing…afraid that someone will get hurt through my incompetence.  I live in fear—I am a coward!”

Expecting disgust at this monumental confession, Elrohir was completely surprised by the response from Aragorn.  Not only did the young man not immediately confirm his brother’s assessment, but he laughed out loud instead.

“Elrohir,” the young man then said firmly, “you could not be a coward if you tried!”

When Elrohir only scowled, disbelieving his words, Aragorn continued a bit more softly, “Ro, much of what I learned came from both you and Elladan as well as from Ada, Glorfindel, Erestor, and dozens of others who have guided me over the years.  But courage…the true face of courage…I learned from you.”

Sitting down for a moment so he could look into Elrohir’s face, he continued, “I will tell you the whole story later if you wish, but for now, let me assure you that you were the one who taught me the true meaning of bravery.  It wasn’t a lesson learned on a battlefield, although you have shown your measure there often enough.  It was in a dank, dark, confining cave filled with rats that I was shown what it means to have courage.  You showed me, though your actions, that courage is not to be without fear, but to do what needs doing regardless of your fears—to persevere even in the face of your greatest nightmares.  I have never forgotten that lesson, Elrohir, and will never, ever accept that you are a coward.”

Aragorn used the back of his hand to gently stroke his brother’s cheek when he noted the confused and tired look on Elrohir’s face.  “You need to rest now, Ro, but please believe what I say and think on what I have told you,” he said quietly.  He didn’t know if he had actually gotten through to Elrohir, but he hoped his brother would accept some of his words.

Standing up and continuing his tasks quietly, Aragorn finished rubbing out all the kinks in Elrohir’s back and when he was done, noted with a smile that the exhausted elf had closed his eyes and was now breathing evenly in a deep sleep.  As he contemplated the slumbering elf, Aragorn wondered if this is what his brothers had felt when they had tucked him in as a child—this warm, protective feeling that left him ready to fight the world in order to keep him safe.

He wiped off his hands, pulled the sheets back up over his brother’s back, and then sat in the chair next to the bed for awhile, deep in thought.  By explaining his memories and thoughts to Elrohir, it had helped him get his own feelings in order and he was feeling better himself than he had for quite some time.

He sighed as he softly patted Elrohir’s undamaged hand, careful not to wake him up.  He so loved this sad, stubborn brother of his and was feeling quite sorry that he hadn’t made an earlier effort to show him just how important he was to all of the family.  Yes, his own feelings had been hurt when Elrohir had accepted the others more easily than him, but he now felt that he should have tried harder to look beyond his own hurt and understand what Elrohir was going through.  And he certainly should have tried harder to show how much he cared for his brother.

When at last Nindal returned from the storeroom and Aragorn was free to get a long-overdue dinner, he gave his brother one last look and tentatively bent over and whispered, “Sleep well, brother…I love you,” and gave him a feather-light kiss on the temple before quietly leaving the room, sad that Elrohir would not be aware of the gesture.

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

Elrohir slept through the rest of the evening and the entire night, awaking early the next morning just as the first rays of the sun reached the valley floor.  His first conscious thoughts were that he was still lying face-down on the bed and was feeling terribly achy.  Preferring to lie on his back, the elf tried to roll over but then groaned as he realized that he was so stiff and sore that he could barely move.

“Ro, you are awake?  How do you feel?” asked Elladan, who had been dozing in a chair next to the bed but had jolted upright when his twin had moved.

Elrohir looked over at his twin, moving only his eyes and not his head as he fought back another groan.  Valar, he was sore!  Remembering Elladan’s words from the day before and his own feelings of self-hatred, his first instinct was to assume that his brother had come back to finish his lecture for falling down the stairs...but then his little brother’s words forced their way back into his thoughts.  Estel had said that they all cared for him--that there was no need to earn their regard and they were only concerned for his well-being.  Unable to completely banish those words, the injured elf glanced at his twin from the corners of his eyes, looking for some kind of validation one way or the other.  Carefully studying Elladan, he saw no irritation, no impatience, no condemnation.  All he saw was sincere concern and worry.  Could Estel have been right?  That they all cared for him no matter what and didn’t consider him a burden?  That his fears did not mark him as a low, contemptuous creature?  As the possibility struck him, his eyes welled up with tears and he turned his head away.  Could his nightmare truly be over that easily?  Was the answer that simple?  Had he been so wrong?

The elder twin saw the tears and could only assume that his brother was hurting terribly, either physically or emotionally.  “Ro, are you in pain?  Can I get something for you?” he asked worriedly.

When Elrohir shook his head and said nothing, Elladan continued, “Then you are upset with my words from yesterday.  Brother, I am so sorry.  I meant nothing by them and have been quite angry with myself for upsetting you, especially when you were hurt.  It was thoughtless.  Please forgive me.”

Elrohir turned his head back and tried to look up at Elladan.  Still lying on his stomach, it was hard to look into his twin’s face and he grimaced as he tried to roll over again.  “Elladan, I am not upset by your words.  I just...ah...could you help me roll over first?” he asked.

“With pleasure,” answered his brother with a tender smile and quickly moved to help him onto his back.

Elladan was careful to be gentle, but even so, by the time he had been rolled over, Elrohir was gritting his teeth from the pain.  Now he knew what the expression “bruises having bruises” meant!

After a couple of deep breaths, he looked up at Elladan again.  “I feel as if a herd of wild oliphaunts had used me as a play toy,” he said with a shake of his head.  “Truly, I do not recommend my method for going down stairs!”

Elladan actually stared at his brother in shock.  He simply didn’t know what to say.  Was Elrohir being lighthearted and joking with him?

Elrohir was still feeling every bruise and bump that covered his body, but even so he wanted to smile at the perplexed, dumbfounded expression on his brother’s face.  Without remembering an exact incident, somehow he just knew that he had been responsible in times past for causing the exact same expression on his twin’s face—inexplicably he felt his heart lighten as he thought about how much fun it would be to give his brother a hard time.

The hint of a gleam in his twin’s eyes told a grateful Elladan that yes, indeed, Elrohir had responded to him in a lighthearted way and for some unknown reason, was not nearly as morose as he’d been just the day before.

He took a chair next to the bed and for the next few minutes, the two of them talked quietly as Elrohir filled his brother in on just what ‘method’ he’d used to get down the stairs.  He was rather embarrassed at his clumsiness, but somehow it no longer bothered him so much to share that with his twin.

Only a few minutes later, Elrond entered the infirmary--as always attuned to his patient’s status, he had known the moment Elrohir had woken up and had come as soon as he’d been able.

Seeing the pale face and lined forehead of his middle child, he greeted the twins and then stated gently, “I can see you are in pain, my son.  Would you take something to ease it?”

Elrohir regarded his father in mild surprise.  Surely his father didn’t think a few bruises and a broken ankle were more than he could stand!  “I admit to feeling sore, Ada,” he said truthfully, “but I have endured far worse without requiring pain relief.”

While Elrond silently acknowledged the sad truth of those words, he also noted with joy his son’s use of ‘Ada.’  Elrohir hadn’t called him that in some time and he found it difficult to keep himself from giving in to his desires and scooping Elrohir up into a hug.  He resisted the impulse, however, for not only would his son’s bruised body not appreciate such an act, but Elrohir had been avoiding such intimacy for awhile and Elrond didn’t want to do anything to upset the young elf, especially when his demeanor seemed lighter than it had in some time.  Still, he needed to ensure his son understood that things were different from the past when he had been alone in his suffering, “Elrohir, I am so sorry there were times when you were injured and had no one to care for you, but that is no longer the case.  I am able to give you something for the pain that would help you rest better...and I would enjoy caring for you, young one.”

Once again, Estel’s words came back to the young elf as he regarded his father.  The loving, concerned look in his father’s eyes appeared to confirm that his family was not upset with him after all, and only wanted him to get better.  Honestly confused now at what was reality and what was possibly the product of his own warped view on things, he wasn’t sure what to believe at this point.  He most assuredly wanted to rid himself of the crushing feelings of despair and worthlessness, but he couldn’t accept quite yet that he had so misread the situation.  Deciding to be watchful first before fully believing Estel’s words, but willing to trust his father for the moment, he quietly agreed to taking more of the bitter tea, allowing its soothing properties to lull him back asleep.

When he next awoke, only Elrond was in the room with him.  Apparently he had sent Elladan out some time before and Estel as well, who had also come for a visit.  The elven lord didn’t talk much, recognizing his son’s desire for peace and quiet as he recovered from his injuries.  Instead, Elrond allowed his presence to reassure Elrohir of his love for him while also allowing himself the comfort of seeing to his son’s needs.

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

Elrohir’s remaining days of convalescence passed quietly.  The injured elf didn’t have much to say as he spent his days in bed, considering.  He thought carefully on his little brother’s words and what they meant to him.  While this was a great change from the morose, despondent thoughts of before, he allowed none of these thoughts to show on his face as he took this time to observe his family’s behavior.  Looking for any sign of their disapproval or condemnation, he was forced to admit that if it had existed before, he certainly couldn’t see it now.  He knew he hadn’t imagined his father’s anger over the incident with Lord Bremon or Elladan’s annoyance when he’d returned late to their rooms, but he was being forced to reconsider his earlier grim view of their overall feelings for him.  Perhaps those times had been isolated incidents after all and he had allowed his own feelings of worthlessness to color his impressions of everyone else.

He spoke to no one about these revelations as he took his time contemplating all he’d learned.  His family, none-the-less, could still see that Elrohir’s outlook somehow seemed more light...less despondent and were cautiously hopeful that this would mark a real change in his overall outlook.

Several days later, the young elf was finally allowed up when he was once again able to put some weight on his ankle.  Both it and his wrist remained tightly wrapped, but he was grateful to be able to walk about again and use the increased interactions with others to gather more impressions of his place in their lives.  He remained polite and reserved, but was visibly more at peace.  Hesitant and always watching, he was clearly not the Elrohir that had ridden off three years earlier, but the change from the withdrawn, unhappy elf was still profound and all welcomed it.

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

A week after Elrohir’s fall and a few days after he was allowed up, his two brothers could be found on Rivendell’s practice field with a small group of elves.  Elladan and Aragorn had joined the realm’s warriors in early-morning training and had been enjoying the chance to practice their arms while Elrohir, naturally, had chosen not to come with them.  Elrohir had still not ventured down to the practice fields at all and so the older twin wondered what had brought his reclusive brother out when he heard a very familiar voice call quietly ‘Elladan’ and he saw Elrohir coming down the path toward him.

Before he could question him, Elrohir answered the unspoken question, “Adar sent me to fetch you and Estel.  One of the scouting parties has returned early and he’d like us all to be present during their debrief.  It is to be in half an hour.”

“Then we have enough time for one more round.  We will be ready to go shortly,” said Elladan.  He’d hardly had any time to practice since his return and he missed the restful concentration of practicing arms as well as the companionship of their fellow warriors.  Aragorn, who was also standing nearby, nodded his acceptance of Elrohir’s message as well.

Elrohir hesitated briefly before saying, “Very well, I will meet you both back inside.” 

Elladan gave his twin a quick smile before turning away with just a small sigh.  He wished he could get Elrohir to spend more time outside their home.  He knew that he was still finding his way and trying to adjust to this life, but he wished things could be different and they could just...do the things they used to do...have fun together.  He was eternally grateful that his twin finally seemed to be coming out of the shell that he’d built around himself, but he still stubbornly wanted more!  Forcing himself to firmly push his worries aside, he waited his turn behind Belder, a good friend in the Rivendell Guard who was just a few years older than the twins.  After watching Belder’s arrows hit one of the targets, he notched his first arrow and sent it effortlessly into the center of one located at the farthest end of the field.  In quick succession, he sent the rest of his arrows into the center of the same target.  Turning around with a satisfied grin, he was surprised to see that Elrohir was still behind him, watching.

“That was amazing.  Did I know how to do that?” asked the younger twin, impressed with his brother’s skill.  As long as he was there, he had been curious to see his brother’s abilities and had paused on the path before heading back to the house.

Several of the other nearby elves looked at Elrohir in incredulity at his question.

“Elrohir!” choked Belder.  “The only time in over a millennia that you haven’t won an archery contest is when you didn’t compete!  Not only could you ‘do this,’ but you were our champion!”

“ARE our champion,” corrected Elladan firmly with a scowl.  “He is still here, Belder.”

Elrohir noted the looks of the others—chagrin mixed with...what?  But before he could decide, Belder responded.

“Of course, my lord.  I apologize,” stammered the rebuked elf.  “I only meant...”

“Peace,” interrupted Elrohir.  “If I myself do not even remember holding a bow, I cannot fault anyone else for doubting my abilities.”

“Why not demonstrate, my lord?  Then there would be no doubt.  Here...please use my bow,” suggested Pelondas, a young novice who had always rather hero-worshipped the dark-haired twin ever since Elrohir had been kind to him when he was a very naïve and foolish newcomer.  Now he was tired of hearing rumors floating around the barracks like so much gossip and hoped his hero would put all those rumors to rest.

Several of the older warriors felt like smacking the foolish novice upside the head.  What a stupid thing to suggest!  If their young lord could no longer hit the target, he’d be humiliated in front of everyone!  Their barracks talks regarding Elrohir hadn’t been maliciously intended, but rather heartfelt sadness over the fate of one of their favorite warriors.  Elrohir had been much-loved for not only for his skill and bravery as a warrior but also for his way of bringing laughter and joy into the lives of those around him and they had missed his presence sorely.

Elrohir stood silent a moment as his mind raced over possible outcomes.  To try something like this in front of everyone else was to invite disaster and he looked to his brothers for help.  They were both standing together looking rather stricken at Pelondas’ suggestion, fearful of how it would affect Elrohir.  The elf in question had kept his features carefully unconcerned, but his brothers could tell what he was thinking and Elladan, although wishing his brother would stop being so hesitant, in his typical role as protector came to his twin’s rescue.

“I am sorry, Elrohir, but I do not believe your wrist is sufficiently healed to draw a bow.  Perhaps a demonstration would be better after a bit more time has passed,” he told his twin.

Initial relief rushed through Elrohir.  Elladan had given him a face-saving escape.  He didn’t have to do this and risk making a fool of himself.  He opened his mouth to agree with his brother, but then stopped himself.  Estel’s eyes held a sad, disappointed expression.  And from the corner of his eyes he caught the pitying looks the other elves were trying to hide.  That’s what he’d seen earlier in their faces.  Well, enough!  He was tired of being some pathetic excuse of an elf who had to be protected from everything, including his own fears.  Drawing from the unconscious courage that had brought him this far, Elrohir chose right then and there to take his life back.  Succeed or fail, he was tired of hiding.

“Nay, my wrist is sufficiently healed.  It was a good suggestion,” he said firmly.  “I should like to test my abilities as well.”  He turned to the next elf in line and added politely, “Would you permit me to take your turn?”

Receiving a startled nod, Elrohir grasped the bow that Pelondas offered him with a smile for thanks, snagged a quiver of practice arrows, and walked out onto the field.  Displaying an outward confidence he did not feel, he carefully strapped on the quiver and stepped up to the mark.  He took a calming breath while he realized that there was a great possibility that he would end up looking like a complete idiot before this was over.  And worse, if he failed it would be just one more sign that his former life was forever lost to him.

Too late to stop their brother now even if they wanted to, Elladan and Aragorn leaned on the fence railing along with the other warriors and watched as Elrohir studied the targets down the field.  If anything, the brothers were more nervous than Elrohir himself.  They exchanged a look of fear.  They so wanted him to succeed that their stomachs were in knots!

Everyone held their breaths and watched their former champion draw a bow for the first time in years.  What if he missed the target completely?  What if he couldn’t even remember how to properly position an arrow on the bowstring?  What if...

They needn’t have worried.  The instant Elrohir pulled the first arrow out of the quiver, he knew that he would succeed.  With his back to his audience, he allowed himself a smile as he brought the bow up and notched his first arrow.  It was like breathing.  He did know how to do this!  Aiming for a long-distance target next to the one Elladan had hit, he released the arrow and before it even hit the target, drew another and sent it flying after the first.  The first arrow hit the target dead center only to be split in half by the second arrow.  Smiling even broader now, the happy elf in quick succession sent the remaining arrows in his quiver downrange.  They landed on a fresh target at almost the same time, so rapid were his shots.  With a grin, Elrohir cocked his head and looked at his handiwork.  The arrows formed a perfect smiley-face in the center of the target!

He turned around, still grinning.  “Apparently I do remember something about this, after all,” he told his equally ecstatic audience.  They were thrilled to see that not only was Lord Elrohir still a master at archery, but his long-absent quirky sense of humor was obviously intact as well.

Elladan laughed outright in his utter delight at Elrohir’s triumph and obvious joy.  “Show off!” he said in amused affection as he draped his arm over his brother’s shoulder.  “Now we had better get inside before Ada sends someone after us.”

Aragorn followed behind the twins, his grin as wide as theirs as the three brothers went to meet their father.

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

Elrohir’s unexpected success with archery marked the beginning of a remarkable change in the young elf.  With that breakthrough, he lost much of the hesitancy that had so guided his behavior before and began one by one to try other things.  Through trial and error, Elrohir found that if he didn’t think too much about whether or not he could do something, the skills would be there at his fingertips.  It was as if his body had memories that his mind had lost.  Archery, he learned to his delight, was only the beginning.  Over the next several weeks, Elrohir slowly began to rediscover the talents that he had thought lost to him forever. 

First was another venture out onto the practice fields.  Quietly, and this time without an audience, he went with his brothers and tried the various forms of combat.  The sword, long knives, quarterstaff, and even hand-to-hand combat were explored with equally satisfying results.  Elrohir couldn’t have told anyone how he knew what to do—he remembered no specific details of his training, but it was clear from the moment he picked up any of the weapons that he had been drilled in their use and was an accomplished warrior.

Next he went back to the infirmary and asked if he could spend some time there with Nindal, just helping out with whatever needed doing.  Nindal knew the focused determination of this young elf would be a help even if Elrohir didn’t remember any of his training in the healing arts, so he readily accepted the offer.  In short order, though, it became clear that this, too, was something Elrohir remembered if only he didn’t think too hard about how he learned to do specific tasks.  The first several times someone came in with an injury, Nindal supervised Elrohir’s treatments, but he quickly realized that Lord Elrond’s middle son was just as experienced a healer as ever, and soon accepted his assistance as a peer rather than a student.

Following that, Elrohir kept trying his hand at anything else he saw his father and brothers doing, almost making a nuisance of himself in his desire to learn and ‘help.’  His family tolerated his constant presence and questions with quiet love and affection, however, willing to put up with any interference in their daily lives in order to spend more time with their beloved brother and son as he visibly became the joyful elf that they had remembered.

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

The days soon seemed to pass in a comfortable sameness in the house of Rivendell’s lord.  The small family as well as their extended group of friends were pleased beyond measure to see the change that had come over Elrohir and at last things seemed to settle down and they were able to simply go about their daily business without worry.

It was just before one of those mundane chores that Elrohir found himself checking his appearance in the large mirror that hung just outside the family’s entrance to the public areas of the palace.  He unknowingly echoed his behavior as a child when he would stop in front of the mirror to confirm just one last time that he was properly dressed and would not shame his parents by having a smudge on his face, messed up hair, or a rumpled tunic.  He caught a glimpse in the mirror of Aragorn, who had come up behind him and now was shaking his head and grinning at his brother, causing said brother to turn to him quizzically. 

“Something amuses you?” Elrohir asked with a smile.  “Are my boots on the wrong feet?  Tunic backwards, perhaps?”

Clearly he was teasing, since he was immaculate.  Aragorn was grateful beyond words, however, to have his brother interact with him in such a familiar way.  The younger twin, despite his growing ease with the rest of the family, had still been somewhat distant from his foster brother.  Aragorn knew that this was mostly his fault for still not telling Elrohir how he felt (at least, not while Elrohir was awake), but he none-the-less had despaired that his brother would ever treat him like family again.

“Nay,” said Aragorn, “You look perfect as usual.  I was just thinking...” his voice trailed off.

Elrohir was starting to turn toward the door when he stopped as his brother paused in mid-sentence, now looking uncertain as to whether or not he should continue his thought. 

“What is it, Estel?  What were you going to say?” asked Elrohir.

“Nothing, really,” was the rather flustered reply.

At this point, Elrohir was mystified.  What was bothering the young man?  “Estel...?”

“I just...I was just thinking about how different you are now from when I found you,” he finally blurted out.  He was looking down at his feet, but glanced up to see Elrohir’s reaction.  The young elf still had rarely brought up his time in captivity and the family had adopted an unspoken rule to not question him about it.  Aragorn didn’t want to be the cause of making his brother face unwanted memories and certainly wanted to do nothing that might bring back his brother’s despondency.

Indeed, Elrohir was disturbed, but not by the memories.  Rather, he was bothered that Estel seemed reluctant to speak to him.  He had noted that there still seemed to be a sort of barrier between the two of them that even Estel’s talk in the infirmary hadn’t cleared and was worried about its cause.  A troubling thought came to him, “Estel, did I do something when you found me?  Did I hurt you somehow?”  He only remembered bits and pieces of that time.  Between the beating and the drugs, he couldn’t put a clear picture together of what happened or how his brother managed to rescue him, but hadn’t considered before that he might have injured his brother somehow.

Aragorn looked at Elrohir in surprise.  “Nay!  You did nothing to me.  I...I am just wary of causing you distress by bringing up those memories.”

With an exasperated look that was pure Elrohir-of-old, the elf said firmly, “Little brother, we need to talk.  Come.  Let us find a quiet spot where no one will disturb us.”

Aragorn was torn.  First, he was thrilled that Elrohir was treating him again with the brotherly closeness that he had seemed to reserve for Elladan until now.  But second, he knew that they were expected to join their father and Elladan in greeting an arriving delegation of elves from Lothlorien.  It was a rather low-key delegation, a passing group of warriors who were transiting through Rivendell’s boundaries.  But it was an official function regardless and Elrond expected the whole family to be there to show support of the other realm’s warriors.  Aragorn did not think they could simply not show up.

“But Adar,...” he began.

“Let me take care of that,” interrupted Elrohir and promptly did so as he stopped a passing servant and sent him off with a carefully-worded message to their father that he and Aragorn were not in any difficulty, but would be unable to attend the meeting.  That taken care of, he took Aragorn by the arm and steered him toward a quiet room that was rarely used.  Tucked away from any of the high-traffic areas, it was a room that he and Elladan as children had used innumerable times as a quiet little haven when they needed an escape.  He, of course, had no memory of those times, but Elladan had brought him here several times already when things seemed overwhelming and he needed a quiet place away from the hustle and bustle of their busy home.

“Alright,” began Elrohir, after he closed the door.  Looking at his brother with quiet concern, he continued, “Now, what is it that is troubling you?  There is clearly something here I do not understand.” 

“Elrohir, I do not want to distress you,” said Aragorn uncertainly.

“The only thing distressing me is that I do not understand your hesitation nor this tension between the two of us.  I ask you again, did I do anything wrong…or perhaps mortally embarrassing when you found me?  I confess I do not remember all events very clearly,” said the young elf.

Aragorn was surprised.  He hadn’t really considered that Elrohir wouldn’t remember everything since his memory loss.  He had kind of thought of it as a wall...no memories before a certain time...clear memories after. 

“Do you remember anything?” he asked, a bit astonished.

“Of course,” answered Elrohir abruptly.  “Not my favorite times to dwell on, but...”  He paused, suddenly understanding a bit better his brother’s concern.  “But, neither are they so troublesome that I cannot speak of them.  Perhaps I have not discussed them much, but that is because I have so many things occupying my mind here that I choose not to focus on the past.  Have you been deliberately not speaking of it?”

Aragorn nodded, still looking a bit uncertain.

Elrohir gave his human brother a little smile.  “I truly do not have problems voicing what I know of my past.  I did not realize not speaking of it was causing others concern.  Would it help if I did?  Is there anything you wish to know?”

Aragorn looked at his brother, trying to gauge just how sincere his brother’s words were.  Not that he thought Elrohir would lie to him, but perhaps that Elrohir might not fully understand what it would be like to discuss the dark things that had happened to him.  Seeing only calm concern from his brother, however, he finally said, “Well...there was one thing that I’ve been rather curious about...”

“Yes?” asked Elrohir with a raised eyebrow.

With an apologetic grin, Aragorn continued, “It is actually something I was thinking about just now when I saw you checking your appearance in the mirror.  Both now and before your disappearance, you were always quite neat in your appearance.  And it is just that...well, you were so... um...pardon me if I’m blunt, but you were so filthy and disgusting when I found you.  I do understand that as a slave you might be a bit scruffy, but you went beyond that.  You were far dirtier even than the other slaves.  Why did you not try to take care of yourself?”

Leave it to a little brother to ask that question!  Elrohir gave him a wry grin.  “Rather bad?”

The look he got back from Aragorn, who said nothing but appeared incredulous, answered that question.  He laughed, “I gather that would be a ‘yes!’”

Elrohir took a seat in the window’s alcove as he decided how to tell his story.  Sitting back against the wall and pulling his feet up onto the cushion, he rested an arm across his knees and looked at Aragorn, who had taken a seat in a nearby chair.  How could he put into words the confused memories of those times?

“It is not a complicated story, Estel, but I hope you can bear with me as I try to remember the details,” said Elrohir.

He continued, “My earliest memories of my time with men are of the journey to the western lands where you found me.  I had been taken--I know not how—by…others, and had been sold to these men.  The journey was difficult, but is not really part of the story you asked about.  You see, the men who brought me to those lands sold me to Lord Hebert and it is at that point that I can begin to answer your question.” 

The young elf drug his hand through his hair, trying to sift through his patchy memories and also decide what he should say to his little brother. 

He stared at the wall, unseeing, as he continued, “When I first arrived at the farm, I was put to work immediately in the fields.  It was the peak harvest season in the autumn, so there was a great deal of work to be done.  The days were long and the work tiring as I worked alongside the other slaves.  It was a rather...confused time for me.  I was coming to terms with the fact that I had no past memories and was a slave—and I, uh, didn’t seem to have the correct temperament to be a slave.  They said I was too stubborn and thus found myself frequently in trouble.”  Elrohir looked up at a sound from Aragorn and saw his brother grinning. 

Pointing a finger at Aragorn, he warned, “No comments from you!  I am not that stubborn!” 

Rolling his eyes at the snort from his brother, Elrohir went on, “To continue, I eventually did realize that I needed to behave in order to survive, and so chose to work as hard as I could in order to make my life easier.  I thought this would please everyone, but soon the others began to resent me as my stamina outlasted theirs.  To make things worse, the overseer praised my labors and gave me extra rations as a reward.  I had not known that my hard work would be rewarded thus, or I would have made more effort to not stand out from the others.  At any rate, I did not know better, and after that my fellow slaves developed a great dislike of me.  They said I was attempting to make them look bad and began to torment me by petty means...knocking my plate over, kicking dirt into my water, bumping into me, and so on.  Nuisances, but nothing sinister.  Then, however, the game became a bit darker.

Elrohir looked away from the wall for a moment, to see how his brother was taking the story so far.  The young man had a small frown on his face, but clearly wanted to hear the rest.

With a deep breath, Elrohir continued his tale, “When I would not allow their pettiness to visibly affect me, several of them apparently decided to take things a step further.  Nudges became shoves to the ground.  Dirt in my water turned into no water when they spilt it instead.  My food, they simply stole.  After several days of this, I decided that I could not let this continue or perhaps escalate, so I chose to be direct with them and clearly establish my boundaries.”

Elrohir licked his dry lips as he continued his tale, lost back in the memories and no longer even thinking of what his brother’s reaction was, “One night in the barn, I questioned the main ringleaders as to their intentions.”

A surprised sound interrupted Elrohir’s story.  Aragorn gasped, “You spoke?”

“Oh…aye,” Elrohir answered almost sheepishly.  “It was never that I couldn’t speak, rather that I wouldn’t.  In the very beginning I was exceedingly confused and thus kept silent.  Later, it simply became my nature.  Actually, it was the only time I spoke while there—this incident confirming in my mind that it was better to remain silent.”

With an apologetic shrug, he continued, “I suppose it was foolish to confront them, as I was far outnumbered.  It was fortunate that we were allowed no weapons, or things may have turned out worse for me than they did, although I did not feel very fortunate at the time,” he said with a grimace, remembering.

His hands slowly clenched into fists as he relived the vicious fight, breaking through the thin stall walls, grabbing anything to be used as a weapon, feeling the blows as the men crowded him in a corner. 

When several moments went by without Elrohir speaking, Aragorn asked, “Elrohir?”

Brought back to the present day, Elrohir forced himself to relax and gave his brother a small smile as he said, “My apologies, Estel.  As you might guess, the result of my confrontation was a rather brutal fight.  Surprisingly, in the end I was actually victorious—a testament to my training, no doubt, even though I did not know it at the time.  Regardless, I subdued the lot of them, although I confess not without several nasty bruises of my own.  The resulting beating I received from the overseer for fighting was worth it, however,” he added with a feral grin.

Ignoring for a moment the disturbing image of his brother being beaten, a puzzled Aragorn stated, “But...I don’t understand how this led to you being so unkempt.”

“I apologize.  I have not made it clear,” answered Elrohir.  “It is simple, really.  After the fight, there was no more pretense of me fitting in with the other slaves.  They were more determined than ever to put me in my place, as they were quite angered at being bested.  They had been warned as well about fighting, so they knew that it was no longer an option unless they, too, wished to be beaten.  So they found another way.  The next time I went to clean myself, they came up behind me and shoved my head into the trough, trying to drown me.  Our bathing facilities were rather isolated and without guards, so I was quite vulnerable there.  Once again, I fought them, and so once again…ended up with a beating from the overseer.  The others convinced him that I was the instigator, so they were not punished, of course.  This pattern repeated itself several more times every time I went to bathe, no matter how careful I was.  I was fortunate to escape each time, but it was now clear to me that I would not be allowed to clean myself without being attacked.  And that, brother, is why you found me in the state that you did,” he finished lightly.

Aragorn was silent for a moment, almost regretting having asked the question.  He was glad to have this time to share with his somewhat distant brother, but found himself quite angry on Elrohir’s behalf.  “I am sorry,” he said in a small voice.

“Sorry?” asked a surprised Elrohir.  “Estel, I told you it did not bother me to speak of this.  All that happened is in the past.”

“Nay, I don’t mean that,” said Aragorn a bit louder.  “I mean I am sorry I did not find you earlier...I am sorry you even had to go through that in the first place.”

He got up from his chair and approached Elrohir, who also stood up as he drew near.  The young man’s eyes were clouded with pain for his brother.  Pain at knowing that Elrohir had lightly glossed over many parts of the tale...his fear and confusion, the casually described beatings, the almost nonchalant mention of the attempted drownings, the dreadful aloneness he must have felt when he found himself an outcast even amongst his fellow slaves.  Then Aragorn did something that he hadn’t done once since he had found his brother.  He flung himself at Elrohir and enveloped him in the tightest hug he could manage.  It was as if by holding him now, he could keep him safe forever and erase the times in the past when no one had been there for the young elf. 

Elrohir tentatively returned the hug at first, wrapping his arms cautiously around his little brother, but then slowly tightening his arms as well.  He was so grateful to this young man.  For rescuing him in the first place, of course, but also for never ceasing to show that he cared, even when he had been at his most...difficult.  His brother’s hug, so surprising because the young man hadn’t made such a familiar move before, made Elrohir realize suddenly how much he had been missing this closeness with him.  And perhaps…maybe Estel didn’t realize how much he himself had grown to care for his little brother.

“Estel,” he said, pulling back so he could look in his brother’s face.  “I am sorry as well.  I am sorry that I am only saying this now and not before, but I want to tell you how grateful I am that you are my brother.  I’ve never thanked you for what you have done for me, not only in terms of rescuing me from that dismal existence, but also for the way that you constantly supported me since.  I...I know I have not been as open with you as I have with Elladan, and I only hope that you do not think that I do not love you as well.  You have been, and are, a wonderful brother,” he finished with a loving smile.

Just like that, the doubts, hurts, and frustrations left the young ranger as if they never existed.  At long last, the adored older brother that he had been missing for so long was standing right in front of him.  Grinning back at Elrohir, he said the words that he, too, wished he had said much earlier, “You are a wonderful brother, as well, Elrohir.  And…and…I love you too,” he finished just before enveloping his brother in another hug.

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

Some believe that all things happen for a reason and if that were true, they certainly would have had their proof the next day when a messenger arrived for Aragorn.  It was Syndar, the ranger who was Hammond’s second-in-command.  The rangers had found the missing travelers—not, incidentally, at Lord Hebert’s farm—and Hammond wanted his entire team available when they attempted a rescue.  Aragorn at first was dismayed that he would have to leave just as he was regaining his place in Elrohir’s life, but then realized that the timing couldn’t have been better.  He would have been terribly sad to leave his brother if they’d not had their close moments the day before, but now could accept with gratitude that someone had been watching out for them and had created the events that allowed them to find their way back together.

Aragorn was thus able to calmly tell his family at lunch that he’d have to be leaving with Syndar the following morning—news that they all greeted with sadness but understanding.  Elrohir was possibly as healed as he’d ever be and Aragorn now needed to continue to build ties with the men that he some day was destined to lead.

Elrond and Elrohir both found quiet moments alone with him during the afternoon, saying their goodbyes in private.  Elladan, however, was curiously missing and Aragorn was unable to find him until late that evening, sitting quietly in a tree just outside their home.

“Dan, where have you been?” asked Aragorn softly.  “I have been searching for you for quite some time as I wish to say my farewells before I must leave.”

Elladan easily swung out of the tree and dropped silently to the ground beside his little brother.  “I am sorry,” he apologized.  “I know I should have found you earlier, but I am saddened by your leaving and did not know what to say.”

“Elladan,” exclaimed his brother in dismay, “surely you understand why I must go.  You, more than anyone else have pounded into my head the need to responsibly fulfill one’s duties.  Please do not be upset that I am leaving.”

The tall elf regarded his brother, as if truly looking at him for the first time.  “You have certainly grown up,” he remarked with a sad smile.  “Where is the little Estel that used to run into my room for protection during thunderstorms?”

“He is still here and will always love you,” answered the young man warmly.  “But he learned to protect himself long ago and now must go out and find others in need of protection.  It is what I must do if I am to find my place in this world.”

Elladan smiled resignedly at his little brother.  Yes, it was his destiny to go off and become a man worthy of being a king, but that still didn’t mean that Elladan selfishly didn’t want to lose the comforting support of his brother.  Aragorn had been a constant source of strength in keeping him grounded when Elrohir was at his most frustrating, and he was disturbed to think of going forward alone.

“I know you must go, but I...I just do not think I can deal with Elrohir alone if he has another setback,” he admitted finally, a great concession from one who always wanted his siblings to see him as invincible.  His twin’s disappearance and subsequent difficult behavior had shaken the indomitable elf to the core, however, and he was upset to now be losing his main ally.

Touched that Elladan would share with him any sense of vulnerability, Aragorn was nevertheless matter-of-fact in his response, “I would have been loath myself to leave if I thought my presence were needed for Elrohir’s healing.  But in truth, he is much, much improved.  He seems happy and content, Dan.  And we both know that the one he really needs here with him is you.  You will do just fine without me.  Besides, you have Ada and Glorfindel and Erestor, …and truthfully the entire rest of Rivendell to help you if necessary.  You do not need me.”

“No?” asked Elladan with a raised eyebrow, making him look startlingly like his father.  “You have not said anything and neither has Elrohir, but I am fairly certain that his great turn-around is a direct result of something you said after Ada so unceremoniously pulled me from the room.  If not for you, I believe he would still be wrapped in the cloak of darkness that surrounded him before he fell.”

Aragorn secretly had been thrilled beyond belief when he had realized the great impact of his words on his brother, but had not shared his role in the drama with anyone else.  It was something personal between him and Elrohir and to take it out and examine it would make it feel like he was looking for some kind of praise for his part.  No, the result was all he had wanted.  Thus, he tried to deflect Elladan’s thoughts with a joke, “Perhaps he simply hit his head when he fell and it knocked some sense into him.”

Elladan recognized his brother’s attempt to change the focus of their discussion, but accepted that Estel truly didn’t want to take credit for Elrohir’s recovery.  Thus, half-teasing, half-serious, Elladan answered, “If I had known that falling down some stairs would have resulted in such a difference, I would have found a tall set of them and pushed him down myself weeks ago!”

“We all would have,” agreed Aragorn with a grin.  Then, turning sober once more, he added, “Seriously, Dan, I have faith that you will be strong enough to take care of Elrohir no matter what happens.  In the end, after all, it is you that he needs.  All my life I have been awed by the close bond that the two of you share.  Know that it will see you through whatever happens in the future.”

Once again surprised at the maturity of his little brother, Elladan smiled his thanks for Aragorn’s words of support.  How he would miss this brother of his when he left!  Still, he felt much better than before and the two of them walked in comfortable silence back to their rooms where they found Elrohir and their father helping pull together Aragorn’s supplies for his departure the next day. 

After finishing packing up Aragorn’s things, the family spent the rest of the evening together, laughing and sharing good thoughts before going to bed.  The next morning, they all woke up before the dawn and with well wishes, sent their youngest member off to his adventures.

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

The next few days passed quietly as the family adjusted to Aragorn’s absence.  His departure certainly left a hole in the lives of his family, but other than missing their youngest member, they were as content as they had been in a long time.  All were healthy and at last they felt assured that Elrohir was as well as he could be, considering he was still without his memories.

Indeed, the young elf continued to improve almost daily as he rediscovered more and more things that he could do.  By now, only those who knew him very well could see much difference at all between the Elrohir of old and the one currently with them.  In fact, there was just one major thing that those outside the family could still see as a sign that Elrohir was not quite back yet—he still would have nothing to do with horses.

It was a source of constant irritation to Elladan, who so dearly wanted his twin back in all ways and was frustrated that their activities were limited by Elrohir’s refusal to even consider riding a horse.  Other than on foot, they could not go on patrols, could not go hunting, and could not even go visiting distant parts of Rivendell.  He didn’t understand his brother’s positively obstinate attitude and carefully came up with a plan to force the issue.

One evening while the two brothers were sitting in their shared room, reading, Elladan casually mentioned that he was planning on joining a patrol that would be leaving in two days. 

“You are leaving?” Elrohir asked equally casually, “For how long?”

“No more than a few weeks,” answered Elladan almost smugly.  “Part of our duties, you know, are to ride with the Imladris Guard.  While I understand that you do not wish to accompany us, I feel I have a responsibility to go.”  He just knew that his twin wouldn’t want to be separated from him and this would finally force him to confront his refusal to be around horses.

His plan was about to fall apart spectacularly, though.  Elrohir did understand Elladan’s responsibility to the realm and found himself terribly unhappy at the thought of his twin’s departure.  Since they’d been reunited in the forest months ago, they had not been apart for more than a few hours and he was surprised at how vulnerable the thought of his brother’s imminent departure made him feel.  That feeling, however, still wasn’t enough to make him consider going with his twin.

“I see,” he said carefully.  “I wish you well.”

Elladan rolled his eyes at his brother’s precise, but essentially meaningless good wishes.  Those words could have been used with a perfect stranger!  Trying to control his exasperation, he asked, “Ro, why don’t you just come with me?  I should like your company and you would enjoy getting out for once.”

Angry at the manipulative way he was being pushed to do something that he was determined not to do, Elrohir answered his brother scowling, “I have said I will not ride a horse.  Since you refuse to accept that, I wish to end this conversation.”

“Ro…” began Elladan pleadingly.

“No!  Cease your pestering!  If you wish to go, then go, but do not trouble me again on this issue!” the younger twin stated firmly.

Both irritated with each other, the twins spoke no more of Elladan’s departure the rest of the evening nor even the following day.  In fact, they remained tense with each other up until it was time for Elladan to depart.

Thus it was a very concerned elder twin who had to decide what to do when it was time to leave.  Elladan had been so sure that Elrohir would relent and come with him, but his plan hadn’t worked and now he was faced with either following through with his threat to leave his twin alone or backing down at the last minute, virtually ensuring that he’d never be able to trick Elrohir into riding with him another time.  But remembering his vow to never again leave a loved one with things unresolved, Elladan was torn when it came time to meet up with the rest of the patrol and he still hadn’t patched things up with Elrohir.  He debated simply pulling out of the patrol…they really hadn’t required his presence as he had only asked to join the patrol in order to force Elrohir to come as well.  If it came down to leaving with things still unsettled between them, Elladan would, in the end, have chosen to stay.  But at the last moment, his twin raced down to the courtyard and the two were able to exchange a brief, but caring farewell.

Elladan mounted his horse and cantered up to the rest of the patrol, conscience relieved and still determined to go if only to convince Elrohir that next the time he should come as well.  His absence would teach that stubborn twin of his a valuable lesson!  However, as Elladan started to ride off, he made the mistake of turning around.  Seeing his twin standing there, all alone, was too much for him.  His brother’s face was expressionless, but the eyes…the eyes were sad as his twin abandoned him and Elladan just couldn’t do it.  With a quick explanation to the patrol’s captain, Elladan pulled out of the line and rode back to his brother, dismounting before he got too close, conceding at last his twin’s desire to keep far away from any horse.

A groomsman took away Elladan’s horse as he wordlessly joined his brother.  At Elrohir’s questioning look, the elder twin stared off into the sky a moment before answering the unspoken question, “I find that I cannot leave you just yet, brother.  I was foolish to try to force you to go, as I do not have the heart to be separated from you.  I just…I just wish you would reconsider,” he finished sadly.

Elrohir regarded his brother and then grabbed his arm and pulled him down onto a small bench next to a fountain.  It seemed that it was time to do some explaining of his own. 

The younger twin started out hesitantly, “Elladan, I am sorry.  I know what you were trying to do and I appreciate that it was only to help me.  And I know you do not understand my…stubborn refusal to go, but in truth I do not understand the entire issue myself.  I do not know where my antipathy toward horses comes from, but I do know that I feel great anger when I am near them.  I do not fear them, but instead feel a great sense of…of betrayal.  I…I believe it has to do with how I was taken.  I know no details and have no memories to support that premise, but I do trust my feelings on this.  Perhaps I should have explained earlier, but I have only just now started to fully understand what it is I feel when I am around them.  I…I do hope you will understand why I cannot do as you ask, even though I do not wish to disappoint you further,” he finished up forlornly.

Elladan looked down at his hands, which he had clasped together tightly as he listened to his twin.  One more piece of the puzzle added.  Horses?  Somehow horses were involved in his disappearance?  If that was the case, he could understand his brother’s reluctance to be anywhere near them.  It would explain a lot, even though it explained nothing as all the details were missing.  Still, it was enough, and as if shrugging off a mantle, Elladan finally decided to let go of his determination to get Elrohir on a horse.

“I am disappointed,” Elladan responded, “but not with you.  I cannot like that we are limited in what we can share together, because there will come a time when I shall be forced to go somewhere on a horse and will thus be forced to leave you behind.  And that, dear brother, as you could see today, is something that I will find very hard to do.  But we will face that when we must, and in the meantime, I promise to try harder to understand and will not push you to do anything else until you are ready.”

At that, the brothers shared a smile of reluctant understanding, knowing that neither was really pleased with the situation, but would both make the best of it and wouldn’t allow anything like this to come between them again in the future.

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

Elladan was true to his promise and showed only support to Elrohir after their conversation and didn’t push him to do anything new.  Honestly, there was little other than riding that Elrohir couldn’t now do.  There was one thing left that no one had mentioned, though.  It was only a few weeks after Aragorn’s departure that Elrohir convinced himself it was time to face one of his final challenges. 

One evening after a quiet meal with his family, the young elf excused himself early and then made his way directly to his room.  After making sure that no one else was around, he closed the door tightly and resolutely walked over to the far corner where he stopped abruptly.  There, still sitting on the corner shelf, were the harp and flute that he’d been avoiding ever since his initial review of the room months ago.  So many times their mere presence had mocked him as they reminded him of his inability to remember anything, but tonight they no longer seemed the sinister reminders that they had earlier—tonight they seemed to be beckoning him with their potential.

Still, Elrohir hesitated before picking one of them up.  He didn’t know why this was so important to him, but somehow he felt that failure tonight would be an indicator of how the rest of his life would go.  Dare he take the chance that he would not be able to play either instrument?  After a deep breath, he gathered his courage and without allowing further thought, quickly picked up the harp. 

He carried it over to his favorite seat—the one in the window—cradling it carefully as he walked.  It didn’t quite feel natural in his arms and he wondered for a moment if he should have chosen the flute instead, but his instincts said to pick up the harp, so he accepted that this was the instrument he should try to play.  He sat down on the edge of the seat and holding his breath, gently ran his fingers over the strings.  He easily recognized that the notes were flat and without pause, quickly tuned the lovely instrument.

Once each string had been brought up to perfect pitch, he tried again to run his fingers up the harp.  The sweet tones brought a lump to his throat as they touched something deep within him.  Suddenly filled with an overwhelming need to create music, Elrohir closed his eyes, hoping that if he didn’t try to hard to think about it, the ability would come to him.

Tentatively, the young elf began playing a simple tune, his right hand picking out the melody while the left filled in with chords.  He blew out his breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding…yes, this was at least familiar.  But what about something more complicated?  Still trying hard not to think of what he was doing, Elrohir let his fingers remember their centuries of practice and before he knew it, the song resonating from the harp became more and more complex.  Faster and faster his fingers flew as he gained more and more confidence with each passing minute.

So focused was he on his playing that Elrohir didn’t hear a soft tap followed by his door opening.  Drawn to his room by the hauntingly beautiful tones that the closed door couldn’t completely conceal, Elladan had heard his brother and had summoned Elrond, who had been in a conference with Glorfindel and Erestor.  All three of them had accompanied Elladan back to the twins’ rooms as they all were interested in Elrohir’s venture back into the world of music.  They quietly filed in and took seats around the room while the young elf played unknowingly to this small audience, his eyes still closed as he allowed himself to be lost in the music.

Never in his life could Elrohir remember feeling so content as the mesmerizing tones flowed from his fingers.  The song filled his soul like a magic balm, soothing away the lingering pain that had lurked there ever since his ordeal began.  He would have been happy to stay in that moment forever as he coaxed ever more beautiful sounds from his instrument.

His audience sat in enthralled silence as they watched him in wonder.  Never before had Elrohir so completely poured himself into his music and none of them wanted to be the one to break the spell he was casting over them all. 

After awhile, however, Elladan stood up and silently walked over to the corner where the silver flute was still resting.  He looked at it for moment and then nodded, as if coming to a decision, and picked up the little instrument.  It was actually his, not Elrohir’s, and had been left in the room the last time the twins had practiced their music together.  It had been just days before Elrohir had left on his ill-fated trip and Elladan had never been able to bring himself to touch the flute since.  Somehow, leaving it in his brother’s room next to the harp had seemed like a promise that the two of them would be reunited—a small symbol of his belief that they would someday share their music again.  He had made a silent vow to himself that he would not allow himself the joy of creating music until he could do it with his twin, and now at last he felt released from that vow and was able to finally pick up the little flute.  He smiled as he grasped the familiar instrument and carried it over to the window seat where Elrohir was playing.

The younger twin was still unaware that anyone else was even in the room until he heard the first few notes of a flute weave into his song.  Still with his eyes closed, he smiled lightly as he concentrated on his playing—this was how it should be.  He knew without looking that it was his twin whose music joined his own and he subtly changed his playing to accommodate him.  Allowing the flute to pick up the melody, he used the harp to fill in the harmony and background, giving the music a richness that neither instrument could capture alone.  In that moment, a complete peace settled over him and it reflected in the music that he and Elladan shared with their enchanted audience.

The twins continued their impromptu recital for an unknown amount of time, no one in the room even conscious of its passing.  At last, however, they began to tire and Elladan wove the query “are you ready to stop?” into his music.  Not even aware that he had instinctively heard and processed the question, Elrohir answered a “yes” through his own playing and at the end of the next measure, the twins stopped as one.

As the final notes faded, Elrohir opened his eyes and was unsurprised to find himself looking directly at his twin.  The two began to grin at each other in perfect unison, unconsciously creating mirror images in their joy.  He reached over to Elladan and grabbed his hand and squeezed, trying through his touch to express just how much he loved his twin.

A quiet voice interrupted them.  “That was simply lovely, boys,” said their father quietly.  “I have sorely missed hearing you play.”

Elrohir turned his head at the sound, noting for the first time that he and Elladan had had an audience.  He looked at them all and then back at Elladan.  With the exception of Estel, all the people he loved most in the world were here in this room and he was so grateful that they were here to share this perfect moment with him.  He knew that he had made life difficult and painful for them all, not only during the past months here in Rivendell but also during the preceding years when he’d been lost.  But these wonderful people had supported him, loved him, and had never given up hope for him through all the hard times.  He felt so blessed.

Slowly, the young elf began to smile—the Elrohir smile of old that could light up a room with its brilliance.  It was the kind of smile that could fill one with joy simply to see it.  A smile that had been missing for well over three years, but now showed the onlookers that Elrohir, their Elrohir, had finally returned. 

One by one, Elrohir looked at each person in the room, giving a small prayer of thanks for each one of them.  Then he returned his gaze to his father.  “Ada,” he said, the love he felt for them all shining bright in his eyes, “I believe that, at last, I have truly come home.”

********************

A/N:  I seem to have confused folks with this chapter when I posted it on ff.net.  Several people thought that the story was over since there is a lot of closure in this chapter.  Anyway, no…this is not the end of the story.  Elrohir has found a sense of peace, true, but there are still some things to work out (like his memory loss!) before the story is done.