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tolo dan na galad (`come back to the light`)  by Laikwalâssê

Tolo dan na galad

(`come back to the light`)

Chapter 4: fears we never hoped to experience

The pace of the procession was painstakingly slow. Even though the clearing was not far from Imladris; but ‘not far’ was only the normal speed a traveller would take. This group did not consist of normal travellers and their business was far from ordinary.

The moment after the Elf-lord had announced that they would return home despite of, or rather because of, their gravely wounded companion, a bustle of activity had broken out over the entire little camp.

The warriors who had grieved while witnessing the struggle of their Troop Commander to survive, were glad to be able occupy themselves with practical actions. However they could not resist casting occasional glances towards the little tent where the healer was treating the wounded elf.

Although they had infinite faith in the skills of their Lord; they also had eyes to see and a lot of experience with which to judge the situation.

They only had to observe the grave expression on the healer’s face to know that Elrond was already pushed to his limits, and that would only to keep the blond elf alive. He had not even started to try and improve his condition.

While the camp was broken swiftly and methodically, the Elf-Lord stayed at the wounded elf’s side. His Troop Commander’s condition was too fragile to leave him for even one moment.

Observing the proceedings and seeing that some time was left, Elrond again poured as much healing energy as he could spare into the failing body. He had to find the sensitive balance that would allow him to give as much as possible without using up all of his reserves.

After dismantling and finally strapping the tent Elrond had worked in to the back of a horse, Elladan watched his father carefully. He waited patiently until the Elf-lord had opened his eyes again before he stepped up next to him.

“We are ready to depart,” the older twin announced and extended a hand. He could clearly see how the hands of his father shook slightly. Slowly the older elf’s eyes came into focus. He blinked several times until he seemed to register that someone had addressed him. Looking up at the outstretched hand Elrond smiled and took it, but swayed momentarily after Elladan had pulled him to his feet.

“Father, are you all right?” Elladan asked, worried when all colour drained from the Elf-lord’s face. Pouring healing energy into a wounded body was always tiring, Elladan knew that of course, yet his father knew exactly how to ration his reserves. But was his mind objective enough this time to know when to stop?

When the world stopped spinning and the Elf-Lord had regained his balance he forced a smile at his eldest. “I’m fine, Elladan, don’t worry.” When Elrond looked into his son’s face he knew that neither the words nor the tone was enough. The healer could also still feel the anger in his son’s heart over his decision not to tell him what had assailed him upon their arrival.

The older twin narrowed his eyes. He knew his father well. When the need was dire he sometimes neglected his own needs and overstepped his limits. This time however Elladan held his tongue. He was well aware how desperately Glorfindel needed his father’s support to survive.

His thoughts were interrupted when Erestor guided two horses toward them. A makeshift litter was attached between them. In perfect unison father and son raised an eyebrow which made the councillor chuckle quietly.

“We cannot transport him on the wagon,” he answered the unspoken question with a gentle voice. The Elf-Lord inclined his head appreciatively, when he realized how thoughtfully the litter was cushioned. Even if it would be the much easier way for Glorfindel to be transported Elrond was loath to lay his friend amidst all the dead bodies in the wagon.

With the utmost care Elrond and Elladan lifted the body of the fair-haired elf onto the litter and covered him with a blanket. The horses stood stock-still, sensing the need to be careful. After securing the blanket and the body with a rope Elrond took a last look around. Elrohir had collected his healing utensils into the large bag and secured it onto the back of his father’s nervously dancing stallion.

Elrond nodded his thanks and signalled that he would walk right behind the two horses bearing the litter to keep a close eye on the wounded warrior. Elrohir only nodded knowing how futile a discussion would be. Elladan gazed at his brother disapprovingly. He had expected some support. Their father was in need of some rest, even if only on the back of a horse.

Giving the signal to depart Elrond turned around briskly; well aware of the silent dispute between his sons. The twins mounted their horses, Elladan again taking the lead while Elrohir brought up the rear.

Slowly the procession departed, and apart from the huge pile of orc carcasses nothing indicated that a battle had taken place there. The elves had cleared every sign of their presence. The ground had soaked up all of the tears and blood.

Two guards were staying behind to light the pile of orc bodies and to make sure that the fire would not spread.

Elrond extended his senses again at their near surroundings. Again he could sense nothing disturbing, yet he was sure that the presence he had felt before was still there, hiding, perhaps waiting on a fortunate moment when it could pounce on them. It would not surprise them again; he would be watchful. Their way home was no great distance yet their pace would be slow.

Erestor, seated at the reins of the wagon, let out a whistle and the sturdy horses strained their muscles to drag the cart onward. Two warriors walked next to the litter-bearing horses and made sure that the animals took no misstep and were not spooked by anything unexpected.

 

……………………………………..

After several hours of walking Elrond’s heartbeat increased when he noticed liquid drops on the ground every time the horses took a step.

He looked at the blanket functioning as the bottom of the litter. Since it was close to nightfall and the blanket had a dark colour, he had not noticed anything until now.

He bent down and let his hand wander along the underside of the blanket. It came back wet and covered in blood.

“Halt!” he cried in dismay, straightening up again. The horses stopped immediately while Erestor managed to stop the heavy cart just in time. Irritated, he stood to see what had caused the abrupt halt. Elrond only held up his bloodied hand in explanation. Erestor’s face drew into a grimace.

The warriors dismounted and formed a defensive circle around their Lord and the wagon since the spot could not be more unfortunate. They had stopped in an open plain with no opportunities for cover and night was nearly upon them.

After quickly securing the wagon Erestor hastened over while Elrond knelt beside the litter. He let out a sharp breath now that he was able to observe the mess. A large patch on the blanket the warrior was resting on was soaked with blood.

The healer briefly closed his eyes. He had checked on the blond no less than fifteen minutes ago. Judging from this amount of blood the wound must have completely re-opened.

Without a moment to spare, Elrond stood and cut the rope holding the body in place. While Erestor spread a blanket on the ground the Elf-lord carefully lifted the body of the warrior from the litter. He did not have to look at the blonds’ side to see the damage, the wetness he could feel on his hands and arms told him enough.

Having heard their father’s sharp command the twins galloped over and dismounted hastily. Just before the call they had clearly sensed their father’s distress and feared the worst.

Elladan knelt beside his father and helped him roll Glorfindel over onto his uninjured side carefully, to better see what had happened while Erestor was lighting a torch. Elrohir hastened to retrieve his father’s healing bag. Briefly he realized how desperately they needed this bag that his father had only brought out of routine.

Elrond quickly cut the old bandages away and took a deep breath. The wound had indeed re-opened and was bleeding heavily. Elladan instantly pressed a thick patch of linen against the hole while the Elf-lord checked the warrior’s heartbeat.

As expected the pounding was fast and shallow. What worried the healer even more however was his futile attempt to get a connection with the warrior’s fëa. The spirit was already preparing to depart the failing body. Elrond massaged his temples. The condition of his friend had been bad enough but now…

Taking another deep breath Elrond indicated for Elladan to continue applying pressure while he positioned his hands on the chest and head of the wounded warrior. He closed his eyes and entered into a healing trance. Reaching deep inside he called upon his strength, putting forth all the healing power he possessed, and pouring his very being into the wounded body.

He opened all locks and released all restraints. Either the blond could be called back now or he would die.

 

……………………………………

The twin brothers observed their father with matching grim expressions. Through the bond with him they witnessed the desperate battle the Elf-lord fought. They did not dare to add their presence to their father’s. The healer was deep in trance now and any disturbance or distraction could risk his life, not to mention it would end all chances for Glorfindel to survive.

Yet they could barely stop themselves from interfering. They knew that their father was pouring his very essence into the wounded elf and they knew exactly how dangerous that could be.

If this process was not stopped in time their father would die. He would not have enough strength left to sustain his own life-force.

Elrohir looked at his brother with a desperate look. What should they do? Interrupting their father’s healing infusion; they would rescue his life but doom Glorfindel to die. If they let their father proceed, they would forfeit his life.

Quickly Elladan secured the patch he was pressing on the wounded elf’s side with a bandage and wiped his hands on the grass; he had come to a decision. He would not stand there and watch his father die. He had failed gravely in his life once; he would not do so again, even if his father would never forgive him or accept what he was about to do.

Elladan’s head jerked up at his brother’s pained sound. Elrohir had clearly read his brother’s dark thoughts and was as torn as Elladan how they should act, yet he knew that Elladan had made the right decision. The older twin sighed relieved when he sensed his brother’s acceptance. He would have done it anyway but the approval of his twin made it easier to bear.

When Elladan took hold of his father’s shoulder Erestor stepped forward and grabbed his left wrist firmly. “What is going on here?” he asked with irritation in his voice. “What do you think you are doing?” he demanded; yet the tone of his voice was slightly less secure this time. Only just now he had remembered that he was speaking to the sons of his Lord and that his tone was more than inappropriate.

Elladan´s head snapped up again and his eyes blazed; yet he swallowed his sharp reply when he saw the confusion and worry in the councillor’s eyes.

Straining against the firm hold he quickly explained. “Adar is about to kill himself. Glorfindel is too far gone. If he is not stopped we will have two dead to mourn.”

Erestor loosed his grip with a gasp of dismay and looked aghast at the older twin. He was accustomed to the healer using his healing energy but he had not seen that the healer had endangered his own life.

“But how…..” he trailed off his eyes darting to the two Elf-lords on the ground. Bringing the torch closer he could now see how pale the healer had become. The hands he had placed on the warrior’s body shook and his breathing was ragged. How far could this go? Would the healer drop dead from exhaustion before their eyes?

More sensing than seeing the older twin act, Erestor could not wrench his eyes from the desperate scene in front of him. Yet, before Elladan had the chance to pull his father away, the Elf-lord groaned and collapsed. Having anticipated this, Elrohir had stepped behind his father and was able to catch the limp body in his arms.

Shocked but not really surprised, Elladan quickly leaned down and searched for a heartbeat at the neck of the warrior while Elrohir did the same with his father. The twins nearly sobbed with relief when they found both elves alive. Erestor let out a sigh of relief as did all elves witnessing the scene.

Elrohir stroked the sweat-soaked hair of his father out of his face and settled him comfortably against his chest. Now he could impart his own strength into the depleted body and refill the Elf-lord’s reserves.

At the same time Elladan quickly and confidently re-bandaged the blonds’ wound and made him as comfortable as possible.

Seeing that the immediate danger had passed, when he deemed the moment appropriate, the head of the guards came over and knelt beside Elrohir. He directed a worried gaze at the closed eyes of his Lord resting in the lap of the younger twin.

“My, Lord,” he addressed Elrohir “how shall we proceed?”

Shifting his hold on his father Elrohir looked first at his brother and then at the warrior. “My father needs to rest. We should stay here for at least two hours.”

Inclining his head the guard rose and left to inform his men. Looking after the warrior Erestor addressed the older twin. “Elladan, I’m sorry for my…” he trailed off when the dark-haired youth held up his hand.

“It’s alright, Erestor. You could not know. It’s a rare occurrence and father seldom oversteps his limits.”

Accepting the words with a nod Erestor rose and removed the soaked blanket from the litter replacing it with a new one. The twins kept vigil over the two Elf-lords while the guards made sure that nothing would threaten the elves they had sworn to protect.

Elladan and Elrohir however, were far from relaxed. Now would be the perfect moment for an attack. Even though Elrond had not told them what had approached him at the clearing’s edge the brothers had enough imagination to guess the truth. Only the evil presence of one of Sauron’s minions could push their father thus.

With worried hearts they gazed into the darkness. With both of them sustaining the spirits of the Elf-lords and without the opportunity to call upon the power of Vilya they would be easy prey, and the tragedy of a week before could easily be repeated.

To be continued…………………..

 





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