Chapter 2:  darkness, nothing but darkness

The Lord of Imladris, his seneschal and councillor were sitting in the main office working silently. Each was responsible for certain aspects of Imladris.

Winter was on their doorstep and it was necessary to assess which items still needed to be stored or purchased, and which were still awaiting harvest or processing before the upcoming cold season.

Although the healer was working quietly and seemed focused, Glorfindel did not miss his friend's occasional glance out the large window. Sending a guarded look at Erestor, Glorfindel received a raised eyebrow followed by a deep frown as his response.

Over three months had passed since Elrond’s sons had again ridden out on their self-appointed mission to hunt down as many orcs as they could get within reach of their swords. On their last visit they had only stayed long enough for Elrond to cure a long and deep cut on Elrohir's left thigh. The bandaged wound was in the final stages of healing when they had prepared to leave again.

This time their father had not even tried to hold them back. He had not said a word as they had loaded their horses with provisions at first light. With an expressionless face, he had stood at the front entrance of the Last Homely House to see them off. Only after a stern glare from Glorfindel had Elrohir returned and hugged his father briefly with a whispered farewell. Elladan had only re-checked the rebound hilt of his sword. He did not look back while his brother was mounting beside him.

The sun had not fully risen when the brothers had galloped out of the courtyard and started up the steep incline of the valley path.

Contrary to many other departures, Elrond had not waited until his sons had passed from sight. As soon as they had crossed the lawn he had turned and strode inside.

Glorfindel knew that the pain in his Lord’s heart was growing with every departure, nurtured by the fear that one day their fighting skills would not be sufficient. Elrond feared that they would be unable to return home or that one of his sons would return dead or bearing a fatal wound.

They never knew how long the twins would stay away, how long it would take them to vent their anger, or when they would become weary enough in mind and body to return home. The fear that one day they would not return at all was getting overwhelming.

Three months was an exceptionally long time; never before had they stayed away for such duration.

Even if he had understood their behaviour, Glorfindel was nonetheless angry with the youths, mostly because of the manner in which they treated their father. Although it was unintentional, he was often the target of their anger.

All peaked on this evening when hoof beats were heard nearing the courtyard. Impulsively, Elrond jerked up from his chair but instantly caught himself. As so often of late, they would not appreciate being welcomed back home.

Glorfindel rose also and walked toward the great window. Illuminated by torches to the left and right of the great entrance he could see the brothers dismount and head straight to their cottage near the main house.

For more than fifty years now the twins resided in their rooms in the larger house only occasionally; usually visiting the house just for a meal or to restock their provisions. Apart from being regular guests in the infirmary, they had become rare visitors to their father’s home. It was one more rejection for the healer.

Just as Glorfindel thought they would again wordlessly vanish into their new home Elladan suddenly stopped, causing his brother to nearly bump into him.

After an irritated glance from Elrohir and a short but heated dispute, Elladan turned and strode toward the Last Homely House. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes only now realizing that the older twin carried a large burlap bag slung over his shoulder. After glaring at his brother’s retreating back Elrohir followed Elladan inside the house.

“I will see if cook is still awake,” Elrond said and Glorfindel turned surprised that the Half-elf had joined him at the window. Again, the dark-haired elf was accepting his sons’ attitudes without reacting outwardly. Glorfindel wondered how long his friend would master his pent-up emotions.

However, before the three Elf-lords could react in any way the door to the office opened abruptly with a hard shove that caused it to bang loudly against the wall. Elladan stormed into the room without looking around him, closely followed by an agitated Elrohir.

Before Glorfindel could even guess the meaning of their intrusion, Elladan had pulled the bag from his shoulder, jerked the strap open and dumped the contents of the sack onto the floor.

With a dull thud the blood splattered head of an orc hit and rolled on the floor stopping only inches before the healer’s feet. While Erestor had sprung up with an indignant gasp, Elrond did not react. His gaze was focused on his son, even if Glorfindel was sure the healer had seen what had been dropped onto the floor.

The imperturbable gaze of his father caused Elrohir to lower his eyes but Elladan looked at his father challengingly.

“Here’s the one responsible for torturing Nana. Look into his eyes Ada. Are they not dead now?”

The older twin’s voice was shrill and did not sound like the voice of a sane mind. While the healer closed his eyes Glorfindel looked at the young elf aghast.

Even if the legend that orcs had once been elves was true, they were not immortal. This dead orc could not have been responsible for the abduction of the Elven-lady. Had Elladan already lost his mind?

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, fighting to hold onto his restraint. Whether the older twin meant his exclamation as a joke or if his mind was clouded, Glorfindel realized that first he had to protect his lord from further shock. Elladan had to be put in his place.

As quick as lightening, he crossed the room and grabbed the youngster by his arm. His iron grip made the young elf wince and glare at the warrior.

“Turn around, Elrondion and leave this room before I forget myself.”

The threatening tone and the flashing eyes only briefly intimidated the older twin. Pulling his arm free with a jerk Elladan turned and strode from the room followed closely by Elrohir. Neither brother spared another look at their father.

Elrond had turned and grabbed his desk for support. His breaths came in short gasps.

Erestor had collected the orc's head and stuffed it back into the sack. The seneschal had barely tied the cord around the opening when Glorfindel ripped it from his hands.

“That’s for me. Please look after him,” he said with a nod toward Elrond. “I will be back shortly.”

Not waiting for a confirmation Glorfindel strode from the room. The sack tightly clutched in his hand he strode along the corridor, down the great staircase and through the wide entrance hall.

With a jerk, he yanked the front door open and left the house without bothering to close the door. After crossing the front porch, he veered to the left and heeded straight toward the cottage the brothers had chosen as their domicile.

Without hesitation he pushed the door open forcefully. Elrohir, the door handle still in his hand, was thrown against the wall behind him. Before the younger twin had any chance to jump back to his feet Glorfindel had crossed the room. He grabbed Elladan by his shoulders forcing him around, so that the older twin was held tightly, his back against the warrior's chest, one arm twisted upward in a painful hold. The sack had been dumped onto the table.

“What do you think you are doing?” he shouted forcing the young elf to wince while twisting his arm even harder. “Have you completely lost your mind? I have always protected and respected you, but today you have crossed a line that I cannot and will not accept. Come to your senses. This will be the last time you have treated your father so disrespectfully. I will not tolerate another attempt.”

With this, the warrior released the older twin, pushing him away with an angry glare. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Elrohir had stood back on his feet and was following the scene with wide eyes. A quick warning glare froze the younger twin in his place.

Yet if Glorfindel thought that Elladan had given up, he was sorely mistaken. Using the momentum from the push, the young elf whirled around and attacked. In that moment the gleam in Elladan´s eyes was alien and no longer rational. Glorfindel swallowed. It was what Elrond had feared. His sons had lost their souls to the darkness.

Glorfindel crouched into a defensive stance and before Elladan could reach him he landed a forceful punch to the younger elf’s face knocking him unconscious.

“No!” Elrohir had cried and sprung forward to come to his brother’s aid, yet like his brother before him, he was shoved back with a mighty push.

“Stay where you are, Elrohir,” Glorfindel growled not allowing any room for interruptions. Torn between the wish to help his brother and the fear of aggravating Glorfindel further, Elrohir held his position.

Re-directing his attention Glorfindel knelt beside the older twin and gently brushed a strand of hair out of the familiar face. A bruise was already blooming where his fist had hit.

“Care for your brother and inform me when he wakes, but stay away from the house,” Glorfindel said. Elrohir instantly knew that this was no mere wish, but rather, a clear command.

Without looking at his mentor, he lifted the limp body of his brother and placed him on the bed.

“And get rid of this abomination, at once!” the warrior said pointing at the sack on the table.

Glorfindel left without another word not bothering to close the door behind him. Angrily Elrohir pushed the door closed with his boot.

To be continued…………….