Brother, where art thou?

Author’s note:

Many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 7:

Hope and sorrow

After hours of hard riding the cottage of his cousin finally came into view just as the first rays of the sun crept over the mountains. Dargost, riding at the front of the small group, let out a sigh of relief at the welcome sight. He was bone-weary, shaking almost as badly as the previous day from the exertion, but grateful nonetheless that they had arrived at their destination.

Now the uncertainties and many questions would be answered. Looking toward the Elf-Lords while dismounting he could sense that they were ready to burst from anxiety now that they had reached their goal.

Before he had the chance to say something, the door of the little cottage flew open and Maren ran toward him, immense relief on his face. Maren had returned the night before from the ranger’s camp and had been anxiously awaiting their arrival since then.

After greeting Dargost, Maren looked nervously toward the elves standing in his little courtyard. He hadn’t dealt with elves before, and certainly not with so many. Nonetheless he forced an uncertain smile on his lips. “Welcome to my humble home. I’m very glad you are here. I’m Maren,” he said and bowed before the Elf-Lords and guards cringing inwardly at the nervousness colouring his voice.

Easily sensing the uncertainty Elrond smiled back while inclining his head. “Thank you for your friendly welcome. My name is Elrond and this is Lord Glorfindel.”

Acknowledging the golden-haired elf and the guards in the background the young farmer nodded back. “You are very welcome,” he said a little calmer now, “please come inside, our time is running short.”

Maren took a step back and swallowed, seeing the intense emotion of worry and concern that crossed the hark-haired elf’s face, but as quickly as the emotions had showed they vanished under a mask of indifference. After lowering his eyes at the piercing gaze Maren carefully raised his head, afraid that he had offended his guests in some way.

After another swallow he noticed that Lord Elrond exchanged a quick look with the golden-haired Elf and said something to him he couldn’t understand. Not knowing how to ease the built-up tension and before the situation could get any more awkward the door of the little house opened again and a young woman appeared at the doorframe.

Relieved that the immediate attention was drawn from him Maren sighed and turned; grateful for his wife’s appearance. “This is my wife Isiwen,” he explained quickly and the young woman bowed after she had reached her husband’s side. “Welcome my Lords”, she said not intimidated by the many gathered elves, “but can we skip the pleasantries? I think we should hurry. The lad does not look good.”

Despite his worry and concern Elrond could not help but smile over the word “lad”. Elladan, if it really was Elladan, was certainly three times older than all of the humans combined in this house. Nonetheless he liked the young woman from the beginning. After Glorfindel had signalled the guards to wait and settle down; the Elf-Lords followed the couple when they turned toward the house. Entering the house Elrond hesitated on the threshold.

“What is it?” Glorfindel whispered, not expecting the sudden stop and nearly bumping into his friend. Elrond sighed. “What if it is not Elladan, what if….?” he trailed off. He felt suddenly too uncertain to proceed. Maren and Isiwen had vanished already into the little hut not hearing the whispered exchange.

Glorfindel smiled inwardly and squeezed his friend’s shoulder lightly. “Well, you will never find out by standing here.”

Nodding and scolding himself for acting foolish, Elrond took a deep breath and quickly crossed the threshold. For many days now he had wished for nothing more than to reach this place and now he was hesitating to take the final steps.

Once inside the one- room house, he let out a gasp when he saw the pale figure on the only bed and realized that it was indeed Elladan. All of his hopes had been fulfilled but also his worst fears. The young woman had not exaggerated with her announcement. Elladan’s appearance looked awful.

Overcoming his shock, Elrond quickly crossed the room and sat carefully on the edge of the mattress, Glorfindel stepping up to stand at the headboard. The human couple quickly cleared the little space knowing that they could not help anyway. Nonetheless they hovered nearby in case something would be required from them.

Elrond’s worry rose, when he saw the closed eyes in his son’s much too pale face. Elladan didn’t recognise their presence at all. The healer reached out to touch the young elf’s forehead, but again hesitated briefly, fearful that the scene in front of him would vanish and he would wake from a dream.

When he finally touched the hot skin, he felt the presence of the younger elf, albeit his life energy was pulsing weakly and his bond to the living world was strangely disturbed. Knowing what his son needed the most, the Elf-Lord closed his eyes and poured as much healing energy as possible into the weak body.

Isiwen and Maren, standing at the bed´s edge watched in awed silence. Never before had they seen something similar. The young woman took a fearful step back, nearly bumping into her husband standing right behind her, as the natural glow of the elder elf grew brighter and intensified until a radius of light surrounded both father and son.

Glorfindel having seen this many times before quickly stepped forward and laid a reassuring hand on Isiwen´s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid”, he said softly, not to disturb his friend, “it’s all right.”

Not really convinced, but nonetheless overwhelmed by the display of elven power, Isiwen nodded and watched enraptured.

Elrond faintly recognized Glorfindel´s words and shuddered inwardly. Nothing was under control. The state of his son was deteriorating with every passing minute. For long moments the Elf-Lord tried to locate the true core of the problem, obviously not only caused by the severe, but not life-threatening wounds.

When Glorfindel saw the shivers that ran through the dark haired elf’s body, he instantly realized that something was amiss. He crossed the room and laid a steady hand on Elrond’s shoulder to offer comfort and strength.

After endless minutes the tension in the room had reached a peak. After some time Isiwen had to close her eyes, assaulted by the ever intensifying brightness. A moan from the young elf exploded into the silence.

When Isiwen looked again toward the bed, the light around the two dark-haired elves had diminished somewhat, and she could see how the younger one struggled to open his eyes.

When he had managed this task with great effort, he blinked, obliviously not in the slightest bothered by the still bright light the other elf emanated and looked confused at the very familiar figure, looking down at him.

“Ada?” Elladan whispered.

When the glow was reduced to the natural light, the Elf-Lord smiled. “Yes, it’s me, Elladan”, he said and touched the pale cheek lightly.

Before the young elf could say anymore, Elrond laid a finger lightly over the older twin’s lips. “Shht don’t speak. Rest now and regain your strength.”

To weak to respond, Elladan closed his eyes and was asleep instantly. With a last look at his sleeping child, Elrond rose and swayed, steadied only by Glorfindel´s quickly extended hand. With a thankful smile toward his long-time friend, he turned and addressed his silently listening audience.

“Isiwen, Maren, thank you for taking care of him and keeping him alive so far. I’m deeply in your debt.”

Isiwen blushed lightly and Maren shook his head sadly. “No, my Lord, it was an honour and a matter of doing what was right for us. But obviously we couldn’t help much.”

Drained from the healing touch the Elf-Lord sighed and shook his head. “It is not your fault that his condition is so bad. You had absolutely no power to do anything against it.”

Isiwen’s head shot up and she looked confused towards the dark-haired elf. “What do you mean? To tend to his wounds and care for him was not enough?” she asked fearfully, hoping that she had not overlooked something.

Sensing that Elrond needed a brief respite to regain his strength, Glorfindel stepped forward and took up the explanation. “The life of an elf depends on the wholeness of body and soul. Both are in a sensitive balance. If something disturbs this balance then the elf’s life is at stake. An Elf can die from severe wounds as well as from grief.”

Not relieved in the slightest the couple nodded nonetheless. “Will he recover?” Maren asked with a hushed voice. To ease the tension somewhat Elrond tried a small smile. “There’s a long way ahead of him, but yes, I think he will recover.”

When Elrond turned to return to his son’s bedside, Glorfindel caught a glimpse of his friend’s face and knew that the words he had just uttered had only been spoken to set the humans’ minds at ease. Elrond was far from believing that Elladan would recover.

Maren followed the Elf-Lord and sat quietly beside him. “Can we do naught for him?” he asked silently.

Elrond looked at him thankfully, despite the helpless offer. “No, here I have neither the right supplies, nor is he in his familiar surroundings. Nonetheless, I fear that I must stretch your hospitality for a bit longer. Elladan won’t be able to travel for the next two days and we will have to make some preparations.”

Maren inclined his head. “Stay as long as necessary. It would be an honour to us,” he said, relieved that he could offer some sort of help at least. Elrond nodded gratefully. “Thank you very much. I will not forget this.”

In the meantime Glorfindel had left the house and advised the guards to make camp nearby, after he had answered many anxious questions concerning Elladan.

After thanking Dargost, the ranger bid his cousin and the others goodbye and left before nightfall. He was eager to return to the rangers to deliver the good news that their search could be stopped.

……………………………………………………………….

Erestor jerked from his slumber, when he heard a painful moan from the young elf lying in the bed beside him. He leaned over the younger twin and renewed the damp cloth he had placed on the elf’s forehead.

Then, pushing a strand of wayward hair out of Elrohir’s face, he caressed the pale cheek gently.

“Shht, young one, hold on. Your father will find and help your brother. Hold on just a little while longer.” The soft spoken words calmed the younger twin somewhat, although his restlessness, obvious distress, and even pain remained.

Erestor felt utterly helpless. The only thing he could do was sit here idly and wait - wait to see if Elrond was able to rescue Elladan and with him Elrohir, or wait until the younger twin slipped past their ability to call him back. Elrohir had cut his connection with the outer world by now. He could only hope that the words he spoke just now were the truth.

He leaned back with a desperate sigh and hit the armrest of the chair rather angrily with his fist. Why was this family so plagued with sorrow? After Celebrian´s departure, Erestor had doubted that Elrond would ever overcome his grief.

After many sorrow filled years it had happened, but the only reason that Elrond was still living in Imladris was his children. Erestor shuddered as he tried to imagine, what would happen to the Elf-Lord, if he had to watch his sons die.

One thing was clear. If Elladan died, Elrohir would follow him soon and no power on Arda could prevent this. All the power the Elf-Lord possessed was nothing in the face of fate.

Erestor sent a fevered prayer to every Valar listening, asking that Elrond be successful, and that the twins could be reunited soon.

 To be continued…….