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He could not remember being so stiff and cold in his life.
It was dark too, and he could not remember it becoming dark. Someone had lit the candles though, and the half-elf squinted at them as they flickered in the breeze from the window. They had burnt quickly too, for they had been new just yesterday and now wax dripped viscously to the pool at their base. The movement caused a protesting twinge from a neck that had been held too high, too steady for too long. He shrugged back his shoulders, wincing as the frozen joints stirred from their hunched position. How long had he been here? A couple of hours? Into the night at least. His robes felt used and crumbled and the ends of his braids were tangled. A bath would warm him - but he was loath to leave Celebrian. Not yet. Not until she woke. Elrond ran a hand over his wife's pale forehead. The sensation reminded him unpleasantly of the time he had been dared to touch a dead plucked chicken. But Celebrian would live. She had to live. Nothing else made sense. Nothing else was fair. He had seen to and dressed every wound, every scratch. Some had made him wince, others had sickened him. He had seen them all. He need not wonder anymore. But even the nights of sickly anticipation of the hurts he would heal had not prepared him for reality. Celebrian's eyelids fluttered slightly, then moved into the half-closed position of elven sleep. Sighing in relief, he sank down on the edge of the bed beside her and stroked a sunken cheek. "I am here my love. You are safe." Her nose was still beautiful although bruised and scratched, and as usual she wrinkled it sleepily when disturbed. Maybe things could return to normal. Things should stay as they had been. She had been happy then. "My. . ." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, spoken from the back of a dry throat. "My boys?" Blocking out a flash of annoyance that his wife's first thought had been of her sons, Elrond answered. Or tried to answer. For he knew not where his twins were nor what had become of them. He vaguely remembered Glorfindel coming in and speaking of them, not that he had heard the words. And the blond elf would surely not have come if. . . he was fairly sure that even his friend would have broken at that. "They are well. So is Arwen." The broken body relaxed and lay still and silent for a while, until Elrond thought she had fallen asleep. ~*~ Celebrian swallowed wearily at the bitter dryness in the back of her throat. He would have given her something. Something to make her return to his world. Nobody had asked her. The flickering candlelight cut harshly down through her eyelashes, causing her head to begin to thump. Sleep would be a welcome break from the pain of a throbbing body, but her mind needed her awake. Although she was not even sure if her mind was working. Everything seemed so slow and sluggish. She was hardly noticing the time as it hastened past. But she had to know. Sticky with dried tears, her eyelashes tugged against each other as she blinked her eyes open. They felt gritty and sore, and for a few minutes the brightness of the room was overwhelming. Then, gradually, she was able to focus on her husband's face. It was the same face. The one she had pictured in the dark. The one she had woken up to every morning for the past few millennia. He was tired - she could see that in the droop of his mouth and the shadows under his eyes - but there was no disgust or contempt in his expression. In fact, there was nothing at all. Reluctantly, but powered by morbid curiosity, Celebrian let her gaze crawl upwards, until they met those of her husband. She stared into the stormy depths a while, and then when she had found her answer, sunk back to the pillows feigning sleep. He knew. ~*~ Elrond drifted vaguely through the halls of Imladris, in search of his family. He trusted that Glorfindel would be with them, and Erestor too, no doubt. They had always been there. Arwen had been with him, he recalled. They had been eating - or rather picking at breakfast on the terrace when the returning party had been sighted. He assumed that they had gone together to wait by the courtyard, for the next thing he remembered was standing in the icy cold, strumming his fingers on the frosted railing. They had not halted to don cloaks or shawls, and he had watched his fingertips turn blue as they stood in that courtyard in the spitting rain, his daughter shivering alongside him. And then they had galloped into the courtyard, moving so frustratingly slowly that he had been tempted to claw his face off just to relieve the tension. He had made his way over to Glorfindel's horse where a cloaked figure was slumped - it had been difficult getting there, maybe he had stepped on something. There had been a strange expression on the blond elf's face, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to ponder that fact. All he had wanted was to have his wife back in his arms. And then it had been nighttime. It was strange but he could not remember the day passing. Maybe he didn't want to. ~*~ Glorfindel yawned, stretching his arms out over the back of the bench. He had been there too long - either sitting watching or stretched out to sleep. He had no intention of leaving the children, especially not while their father seemed oblivious to their existence. Even the Evenstar had been trampled in Elrond's preoccupation. Leaning over to adjust the soft light from the lantern, he gathered up his bundle of papers and leant back, stretching his legs out before him as he read. Occasionally the blue eyes would pause in their skimming of the page, and he would glance up to check on the three sleeping children. Arwen was sleeping on the other bench, her head resting on Erestor's shoulder. She had been intermittently sniffling and sobbing since her mother had returned, something that left Glorfindel decidedly uncomfortable. He had been happy to allow Erestor to comfort her, removing the guilt for his own inability to provide support. He had never been good at dealing with tears. The door hinges creaked, causing the blond elf to look up in time to see Elrond enter. He appeared tired . . . exhausted and dazed, but there was still light in the grey eyes. Glorfindel relaxed, his mind filled with silent thanks for the Valar. They had been in time. The twins' sacrifice had not been in vain then. "Celebrian wishes to know how the twins fare." Elrond said by way of explanation, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Glorfindel smiled grimly at his friend. Celebrian had always prioritised her role as a mother. "They have been stable these past three days." Elrond froze, his eyes turning to the two occupied beds. His two sons lay there, as still as he could ever remember. Both faces were pale and relaxed in sleep, their dark hair lying loose over the pillows. "Three days?" Elrond asked in disbelief. It could not have been that long. He would never have left his children alone for that long. "Three days." Glorfindel confirmed. Cringing at the unspoken accusation of neglect, the half-elf made his way to stand between his twins. It must have been that he was so very tired, but he could not tell one from the other. That had not happened before. "They are exhausted, but they will recover in time." Glorfindel took pity on his friend. He did not blame him for saving his wife first. "Elladan is still a little the paler." Dark eyes glared at the blond elf. To loose track of the twins was bad enough, but to have another know. . . "He lost quite a bit of blood." Glorfindel continued smoothly, his voice bouncy and bright. "But all is now well." |
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