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Choices  by Laikwalâssê

Choices

Disclaimer:

see Chapter 1

Chapter 4:  path without light

After the dark haired seneschal had left, Glorfindel still stood on the same spot, somehow unable to give an efficient command to his body while contemplating what to do. He had watched his Lord perform a healing trance often enough in the past, but what was really happening remained a mystery to him.

Because of this reason he dreaded to interrupt whatever connection the brothers held with their father. Even though he wished nothing more than that they would be successful he knew that they did not possess the powers the Elf-Lord did.

With the elf-Lord already in the process of dying this bond could only end in disaster. He would never forgive himself if the twins died being dragged over the edge and he would have had the chance to rescue them by ripping them from their trance.

Or would they never forgive him if they would have been able to reach their father and were robbed of this possibility through his actions?

Looking up at Tinár standing near the windowsill Glorfindel only received a helpless look. If the powerful ancient elf could achieve nothing what possibility was there for the young healer?

The decision was taken out of his hand when he heard a low moan. The heads of the two elves snapped toward the bed and Glorfindel wondered if he had imagined the sound.

While narrowing his eyes and stepping closer the golden warrior realized that one of the twins had begun to sway lightly and just when Glorfindel took another step toward the young elf, his body went limp and tumbled into the warrior’s outstretched arms.

Quickly overcoming his surprise and shock Glorfindel lifted the lithe body up and placed the son of Elrond on a nearby cot. Tinár had rushed behind the other twin ready if he should collapse too.

He did not have to wait long. Seconds after his brother Elladan lost consciousness and was caught securely in the arms of the young healer. Like Glorfindel, Tinár carried the limp body over and placed him next to his brother on the cot, their foreheads touching.

Quickly Tinár checked both twins for a heartbeat. Gratefully he found what he searched for but he was far from relieved like Glorfindel hovering next to him.

A quick look at the warrior showed this clearly. The pounding beneath his fingertips was much too slow, the breathing shallow and the faces’ complexions ashen. He could clearly see the first signs of fading.

The Elf-Lord had no idea if the brothers had been successful in any way. After a quick look at the older Peredhil he could detect no improvement not even a slight change.

All that had been achieved of the brother’s understandable but rash action was that they now had two more dear ones to worry about. This was obvious enough when Glorfindel returned his gaze at the unconscious brothers. Their natural glow, ever less intense than that of full blooded elves, was barely recognisable any more.

Even if the twins had not achieved to reach their father’s wandering mind they had obviously managed to at least bring some stabilization to the Elf-lord’s quickly deteriorating condition.

Glorfindel bowed his head and clenched his fists in frustration. Again he had failed in his task. He had failed to protect the line of Eärendil. Taking several deep breaths while feeling the anxious look from the healer on his back and with conscious effort he regained some of his composure and raised his head; the sparkle in his eyes flashed dangerously which made the healer gasp and step back.

`This incident has nothing to do with fate. This was the doing of men`, he thought with barely suppressed anger. Life at this time was dangerous enough and when a warrior died in battle it was sad enough but a life cut short in such a way was intolerable.

Remembering the awesome look in Erestor´s eyes, Glorfindel was surprised to feel the same emotions that had driven the dark haired elf to hunt down the men rising in his chest. He was not alien to hate and revenge but this time these feelings could not be denied.

Glorfindel stood slowly and again took deep calming breaths. He would not let these feelings override his rational thoughts.

He hoped that Erestor would find a similar restraint to control himself. After ensuing that at least one healer would constantly watch over the half-elves he turned and left the room.

With a last look over his shoulder the warrior closed the door behind him. Two healers from Elrond’s staff had joined Tinár in undressing and bathing the unconscious elves. They rebound the wounds of the Elf-Lord and removed dirt and grime from the brothers bodies left from being on patrol for two weeks.

Glorfindel walked down the corridor unaware of the part hopeful and part questioning glances that followed him; the elves not brave enough to ask the one question that all of the inhabitants haunted. How was the state of their Lord?

Now recognizing where his feet had led him Glorfindel looked up when he stood on the threshold of Elrond’s study.

He stopped just outside and watched two servants already cleaning the blood soaked carpet and putting the chaos the fight had left back in order.

Upturned furniture and scattered items from the Elf-Lord’s desk and shelves lay all about. A servant was busy collecting all the strewn papers and documents usually neatly piled on the massive desk. Many were now crumbled and blood soaked.

For the first time the warrior tried to imagine how this fight had happened. Had the men attacked all of a sudden and caught the Elf-Lord unaware? Glorfindel doubted this. Judging by the mess, Elrond must have fought back but four to one could be dangerous even for an elf and not to forget the Elf-Lord had been unarmed.

Ignoring the glances directed at him he walked into the room and let his fingers trail over the smooth surface of the oak desk. The warrior suddenly remembered a joke they had laughed at and so many long nights they had sat here doing the daily paperwork or simply talking long into the night.

After rounding the desk his eyes came upon the open drawer. He quickly ruffled through the top papers and searched for the dagger Elrond always had kept there.

It was a beautiful weapon, richly gemmed and only used to open letters. They had always admired the fine workmanship. It was more of personal than of material value to Elrond being a gift from the Woodland King.

Curious now, Glorfindel searched the interior of the drawer more precisely in case the dagger had slid under some papers. It was not there. Why was the drawer open? Had Elrond tried to reach the dagger to defend himself?

Closing the drawer the Troop Commander turned. He furrowed his brow when he recognized that all work had stopped and the servants were staring at him. “Has anyone removed something from the desk?” he asked looking at no one in particular.

Looking bewildered the servants shook their heads. “No my Lord, we weren’t able to rearrange everything yet.”

Glorfindel nodded absentmindedly and turned. What had happened here in the hours Elrond was alone with the four men?

How had he found out that they were not the merchants from Ardent?

His gaze trailed to the wooden box keeping the Elf–Lord’s circlet for official occasions. He quickly opened the box and exhaled sharply. The circlet was gone too. The men had not only managed to nearly kill their host but had also the nerve to rob the valuable items.

The golden warrior’s heartbeat increased and he felt the unusual emotions he had felt before. The red haze again blurred his vision. Gathering his robes he quickly left the room not wanting to let the servants see the fire burning in his eyes.

After hastening down the corridor and sharply turning to the right, the golden warrior opened the door at the end of the stone wall and slipped quickly inside.

With the security of his own chambers surrounding him he quickly exhaled and let the tension gripping him since hours expand. His glow reduced to normal standards and slowly he regained his usual composure.

He walked toward the window sill, sat down and let his head rest on the cool wall behind him. With burning eyes he looked past the gates in the vain attempt to glimpse the dark haired seneschal riding out to find the men which had plunged their haven into chaos.

To be continued……………………………..





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