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They were together again. Maybe not quite as close as before - maybe too close to see the distance. But they were together.
They had lain side by side in the infirmary for what had seemed an eternity, his brother's hand in his, fingers interlocked. He had felt the hardened skin on the other's palm, and knew that the same was true of his own. They had been training for this for a lifetime, but in the end what good had it done. He could almost remember that first summer with swords. Tumbling over onto the lush grass, and running to their father for a hug, and Glorfindel laughing. It had felt so safe then. Their father had been big enough to do anything, defeat anyone. But now he was so powerless and his pain burned deeply from his eyes. And now they were walking through the halls, on their way to train. His body was weaker than he remembered, pale and tired. It would take a while to rebuild the muscle and regain the strength, but he would do it. And then they would kill every orc that drew breath. They were walking side by side; heads held arrogantly high, faces carefully expressionless. They were passing people, their friends and acquaintances of their previous lives. Everybody knew the Sons of Elrond. Everybody knew that a son should protect his mother. The whispered or muttered condolences did not bother him, but he could feel his brother tense whenever another strayed into his path, speaking of their sincere best wishes without ever once meeting their eyes. What distressed him were his mother's friends, those who she would have stood by and fallen by. Who were passing by without a word, who had not thought to query on her wellbeing, who had not even visited. Did they think that by failing to mention it, it would be any less real? He wanted to grab them and knock their heads together until they saw sense, until they agreed with him. Or until they perished. He did not care which. "Praise to the Valar, your mother is safe. Iluvatar must have been watching over you." He could feel his brother stiffen, fists clenching for defence. He wanted to grab him by the arm and run the pair of them from that place. But they could not. "Mercy has been granted to the people of Imladris." Someone muttered. "Praise. . ." Elrohir started and began striding out of the hall, before whirling round and hoisting the speaker into the air by the neck. "Look me in the eye." His voice was icy cold and painfully deliberate. The unfortunate elf made a choking noise. "I said look me in the eye!" His voice rose and the grip tightened. Elladan made a quick grasp at his brother as dozens of eyes swivelled to look at them. Elrohir didn't do this. He would never make a scene like this. But Elrohir didn't seem to be paying much attention to what he did and did not do. His eyes gleamed with a hunger and hurt that was alien to Elladan, and he fought off his brother with a vicious elbow. "Look me in the eye and say something you mean!" Elrohir dropped the elf into a crumpled heap, kicking out angrily at the fallen body. "Look me in the eye and tell me the truth!" Gasping for breath Elladan stared at his brother as he paced uncomfortably, like the wildcat whose nest they had once stumbled upon as children. "Not one of you can tell me the truth." Elrohir said loudly and calmly. "Not one of you will say what happened. But it has happened nevertheless." He strode over to a young maid, trying to gather up the basket of newly harvested apples that she had dropped in her surprise. "Perhaps you can say it. Celebrian, my mother and Lady of your house, was kidnapped by orcs. And tortured. And tormented. Can you say that?" He knelt down to look the maid in the eye. "Can you imagine it?" The maid opened and shut her mouth, stumbling away from Elrohir on her hands and knees. "Perhaps we could call it suffering. Would that be easier for you? My mother suffered." Elrohir spat out the final word with contempt, before springing to his feet to scream, "Say it!". Tears were running down her face now, and too frightened to speak or rise to her feet, she grovelled among the spilt apples. "Elrohir." Elladan roughly took his brother's arm. "Come, let us leave." "But brother, I do not wish to leave." Elrohir spoke mockingly, spinning round and waving to indicate the assembled throng. "Perhaps these dear people would like to speak to us." There was a terrified silence as Elrohir shook off his brother's arm and began pacing the hall. It had not escaped anyone's notice that unlike most inhabitants of Imladris, the twins were currently armed. "Perhaps they would like to tell us to give praise to the Valar?" Elrohir's voice returned to calm and he watched the crowd, waiting for one of them to make a move. Eventually one shuffled and opened his mouth. "Why should I praise those who have done nothing!" The angry twin bellowed, punching at an invisible target. "Why should I give thanks for a deed not done!" There was an angry murmur from the crowd. "You say Iluvatar was watching. He watched as our mother was captured. He watched her scream and cry without offering hope or mercy." His voice was definitely breaking now, and the last words wobbled. His mouth didn't want to stop quivering to make the next words. "She had done nothing. Nothing!" He was definitely crying now. Silent tears poured down his cheeks without him ever knowing they had been formed. His nose was running, and he made an angry swipe at it with his sleeve. "Iluvatar is watching." Elrohir screamed his words almost unintelligible under the sobs. "He is watching but he does not care!" And then the storm was over as suddenly as it had begun, and Elrohir was sunken onto the floor, crouched into a ball with his head resting on his knees, rocking to-and-fro, his body wracked by sobs. ~*~ "Ada! Ad-ad-adi!" The tiny child had called; gripping her delicately embroidered blankets tightly against the fear in the night. It had not been truly dark as she recalled, her crib had been placed close to the window, and the soft glow had covered the floor of the flet with the moving shadows of Mallorn leaves. She had run her hands fretfully over the smooth pale wood of her crib, not pacified by the carved swans and flowers. There had been no response, no noise, and no indication that anyone had heard. But she did not call again, and soon there were soft noises and careful hands had lifted her and wrapped her snugly in her favourite blanket. She had pressed her ear against his chest, and let the steady pounding of his heartbeat lull her back to sleep. She had once been a tiny child. She had once had a father who could make everything better. Who would always be there. Who loved his little daughter more than anything. Shivering despite the warmth, Celebrian wrapped her arms around herself, trying to recreate the security of that hug. Closing her eyes she could almost smell the clean wool of the blanket, and the lingering aroma of leaves and woodsap from her father's clothes. But she was still cold inside. She wanted to be safe again. She wanted someone to tell her not to worry, and that everything was going to be all right. And she wanted to believe them. All she wanted was to feel safe. How could that be too much to ask? The pale face crumpled into quiet tears. "Adar, I want you. I want you so much." |
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