No one stands alone

Written By: Oleanne
You can read the original here:
All Credit goes to the original author

The twins were speaking with Glorfindel as Elrond approached. They were dressed in scouting garb and had donned armor underneath their cloaks. Elladan looked up, grimaced, and clearly avoided his father’s eyes. Glorfindel turned to assess the health of his friend. Yesterday, Elrond had finished delicate negotiations with representatives from the Havens, Lorien, Mirkwood, and two of the Dwarfen kingdoms regarding the trade of ores necessary for the forging of weapons. The Elves agreed to divulge the nature of the additives they used as well as the specific steps in the smelting process for strengthening the metal, while the dwarves agreed to sharing the design of their kilns, known to run at higher temperatures than the elvish forges were currently able to maintain. No elf, but Elrond, trusted by dwarfs, men and elves alike could have managed the discussion, trusted as an advocate by all sides. Elrond’s sons had arrived injured just a few days prior to the beginning of the negotiations and Elrond had given much of himself in their tending and had not had the luxury of rest. The strain was beginning to show in his pale and drained features.

“Elrond, the twins seek to depart this morning? Glorfindel inquired. “They have only just arrived."

“My sons, please.” Elrond entreated in a soft voice. “Stay and rest, if only to….”

“Adar!” Elladan cut past him. “We have discussed this. We are joining the Dúnedain to aid them with the influx of orcs.”

“Did your Lord and Adar grant you leave of this house?” Glorfindel countered, loosing patience with the disrespect the twins had been displaying towards their father of late. They were single minded in their search for revenge, seeking out and engaging Orcs with no regard for their own safety. Elladan stared defiantly back at him. They did not appreciate the other responsibilities their father had to all residents of Imladris and the greater Elven community. Elrohir looked down at the ground.

“My sons,” Elrond continued calmly, “there are at least three groups of orcs. Two groups approach the western boarders. I have warned our guests of the dangers and advised them to remain until we have assessed the nature of this threat. Should the enemy try to cross the Bruinen, the river will flood in our defense and you will be cut off from us until it recedes.” Glorfindel drew up. This was new and unwelcome information.

“Elrond, the scouts should be warned.” Glorfindel noted. He studied Elrond, whose face betrayed no emotion but was underlined by fatigue. His friend had been under unimaginable stress this past year. Celebrian’s departure had cut Elrond to his core. The twin’s rage, a lingering consequence of their Naneth’s trial and forced departure, was yet further torment for Elrond. Arwen had fled the situation unable to bear her grief at her Mothers absence. At her father’s suggestions she traveled to Lorien to seek some semblance of peace with her grandparents. Glorfindel made a mental note to spend the evening with Elrond. “I will make the necessary security arrangements.”

“Thank you Glorfindel." He said aloud then added wordlessley to Glorfindel. "I have updated the map with the information."

“I had not heard the scouts report so many.” Elladan countered. “This is yet further reason for us to join the Dúnedain.”

“We do not yet know their intent.” Elrond mused quietly. “Only one group is in range of the Dúnedain village. The others are much closer to us. Will you not aid Imladris?” Elrond willed his sons to meet his eyes. Elladan’s glare told him that they would take leave of his house if he demanded their allegiance. He did not want to lose them, but in their rage they might be careless and he could lose them either way. “My sons,” he continued, summoning his most benevolent tones, “we are not at odds. United we are strong. Glorfindel has messages for you to deliver to the perimeter guard. Do not carelessly thrust yourselves into danger. You have my leave to aid and guide my brother’s kin and return here as you can. Imladris is ever your home and you always have my love.” Elrond’s voice ended at nearly a whisper prompting Glorfindel to look up in concern. The twins stood silent, stunned to have their father’s approval, but they remained rigid, making no move towards their father. Elrond hesitated, releasing a breath then turning and retreating towards the gardens.

Glorfindel watched him leave; puzzled over what interchange with the twins he must obviously have missed. “Elflings!” They winced at the name. “I would have you stay here under these circumstances. Rest and master your anger. Clearly, it should not be directed at your Adar. He too, suffers greatly from your Naneth’s departure. You should aid and care for each other.”

“He gave us leave to go. Did you not hear?” Elrohir reminded him quickly before Elladan could make another outburst. “We will deliver your messages to the outer guards and other scouts.”

“Elrohir, did you pack a medical kit and supplies?"

“Glorfindel, we are no longer elflings.” Elladan muttered.

“You will always be my elflings!” he laughed. “Come, let’s check the map to see the last reports of Orc activity.” Together they walked towards the guardhouse.

It was well past noon when Glorfindel had finished briefing the archers and scouts. He had tabulated a new roster with increased security details. “I’ll be back after lunch.” He told Amatheir. He left the station and walked towards the house. The weather was miserable, a gray dull sky, a cool drizzle and breeze. He disliked such days. As he past the stables and climbed up the path to the kitchen, the drizzle changed to a steady rain.

The Cook greeted him as he entered. “A little late for lunch, Lord Glorfindel. I trust there isn’t anything too dire? Both Elves, Dwarfs and Edain inhabitants seem anxious.“ He fixed Glorfindel a plate and pointed him towards the garden balcony. “There are a few stragglers including Silsilalda and Erestor.” Silsi as she was often called, was the animated chief healer under Elrond. In fact, she had been instrumental in founding the valley's now reknown school for healers. Glorfindel walked toward his friends. The two were discussing something important. Silsi’s arms waved in exaggerated motions, which the slight she-elf only did when she was riled or anxious.

“I didn’t see him at the breakfast. Cook said he didn’t come for lunch yet either.” Silsilalda was saying. “It’s unusual for him not to make a round through the healing wing. It’s only been a few months since he was laid up with illness and grief following our Lady's departure. I fear for him.”

“I have not seen him since he went down to the stables this morning. I’ll take something up to him. He is distracted by his grief and his concerns for his sons. Lately, he forgets to eat.” Erestor said as he looked up to greet Glorfindel.

“The Lord of Imladris left us shortly after nine this morning. He conferred with the guards prior to that and agreed to let his sons depart again for the Dúnedains.” Glorfindel smirked.

“They left already? I’m sure our Lord had no say in that.” Erestor rolled his eyes. “Elladan was nearly shouting at him this morning. I would almost have been fearful for his safety had I not known Elrohir was there to restrain his brother. I doubt their father would raise his hand towards his sons even in his own defense.” The comment made Glorfindel uneasy.

“What were they discussing?” Silsi asked curiously.

“I was not trying to eavesdrop.” Erestor paused. “Only Elladan’s voice was quite forceful. I could hear him clearly in my study. He demanded that the Lord of Imladris send our entire force to protect the Dúnedain. He described what he viewed as his Adar’s inactions in words I dare not repeat. “

“And Elrond?” Glorfindel inquired before taking a bite of the quiche.

“I’ve never figured out how his calm, soft voice carries so well. He was trying his best to sooth and reason with them but it seemed to have the opposite effect. He noted that his first responsibility was to protect Imladris and all who seek sanctuary here including the Dúnedain. He would do what he could to help protect there village, but he could not sacrifice the safety of those in the valley. There were more heated words from Elladan. I was attending to other things. But the doors burst open shortly after and the twins departed slamming it behind them. I brought Elrond some strawberries a little while later. He thanked me, but didn’t seem tempted to eat. He looked tired and was sipping tea.”

“I will go and talk to Elrond and …” Glorfindel began.

“Lord Glorfindel!” His scout Taral interrupted. “An urgent dispatch for you.” Glorfindel quickly rose.

“Taral, alert the Lord of Imladris and return to the guard house.” Glorfindel commanded. He nodded to Erestor and Silsilalda. By the time he reached the guard house a group of twenty-five warriors was standing at ready. Amatheir handed him the dispatch and he read it quickly.

“Well over a hundred orcs were spotted by scouts from the lower outpost.” Amatheir reported. They stepped inside and over to the maps of their defenses. "This group of orcs were at the northern end of the Bruinen." Amatheir pointed to the location. No path existed on the Imladris side, as it was situated at the bottom of a steep slope of the mountain that protected the valley.

“They are looking for the valley.”

“That is our assessment as well.”

“Why now?” Glorfindel mused. “Situate archers at the stations, pull the defenses back to this side of the Bruinen. Call all available warriors to ready status. The river will flood if the enemy attempts to breech it.”

Xxxxxxxxx

Elrond walked, his heart heavy and his eyes unseeing. He felt his cheeks wet, with …. rain? Yes, definitely rain. His cloak and tunic were soaked through but he did not feel the chill. He blinked and focused on his surroundings. He was near the top of the cliff overlooking the waterfall. He vaguely recalled the climb. He could continue and made it up to the peak, the highest point in Imladris. A dull throb returned to his side. Perhaps ribs were broken. He was too numb to care. Somehow the physical pain was easier to deal with than the pain in his heart. His family was all scattered. He was alone. The pain from the newest and most damaging void in his soul, the spot reserved for Celebrian, overwhelmed all else. The absence of his children, Arwen by distance and his sons through their uncontrolled anger riveted though him. So many losses! He felt the unease of the inhabitants of the valley and the whisper warnings of the trees. The song of the waterfall grew to a roar as he approached. It numbed his heart. It was not long before he reached his destination and sank down against the rocks, slightly winded from the climb. The roaring water chased all thoughts away and he closed his eyes.

He felt the evil nearing and he focused on finding it. Suddenly he saw a fiery eye searching. He gasped and pulled back, but its hatred resonated through his being. It struck him that the evil was clearly searching for Imladris. He pulled behind all his protections, drawing a curtain around him. He focused out on the orcs. At least two hundred were in the nearest group and they were closing in on the river. Their malice was an icy dagger piercing him. The two smaller groups were riding towards each other as if they had spread out in a search part and had proposed to meet again. They would converge close to the lower guard outpost forming a group of nearly fifty. He focused there. His sons were present and perhaps twenty warriors. He felt for his bonds with his sons and felt a wall rise between them, cold and unyielding. They continued to shut him out. He could not warn them of the danger. The larger group of orcs was intent on crossing the river. He felt the river rebel against their entry and he poured Vilya’s strength into it.

“Lasto beth nîn, rimmo nîn Bruinen!” The power flowed through him like a fire burning the scars on his soul yet again. He added all his inner strength to it. The river swept down violently towards the orcs, splintering, raging, and protecting his people. Many were swept away. Would it be enough? He sent the water rising, as high as he was capable. With his last remaining strength he turned his thoughts to his sons. They were beyond his aid now. They were leading their warriors into the second group. He felt their fury and wept, hoping that they would be victorious. He pulled Vilya from his finger and felt blackness engulf him.

Xxxxxxxxx

Glorfindel watched as the river raged. His scouts reported that the larger orc force had counted nearly two hundred. It was the largest number to assault Imladris in many yeni. A great number of the orcs were swept downstream, drowning in the surge of the river. Its fury was awesome. The archers were efficiently targeting those that remained. Guard carefully watched for any enemies that emerged from the river. Arrows flew in a heated exchange across the Bruinen.

The valley shimmered; its calm disturbed. It was subtle, but Glorfindel knew immediately that the protections of the Valley were altered. The natural barrier of the Bruinen would remain at least a week before returning to its banks. Elrond must have removed Vilya – something he hadn’t done in Yeni. Why? The defenses behind the river should be suitably strengthened, wolves and other potentially dangerous wild animals would no longer be barred from the valley in the time the protection was down. Elrond must be sorely taxed. Probably collapsed at or under his desk he smirked. It was nearly dark when Glorfindel was satisfied that the valley was well defended and the threat averted. The guards were stationed vigilantly keeping watch. No words from his warriors caught below the Bruinen. He tensed slightly. He would have to wait and trust in their abilities. Erestor was standing at the door when he arrived. The councilor's face was tensed and worried.

Erestor was standing at the door when Glorfindel arrived. Erestor’s face was tensed and worried.

“None made it past the Bruinen. It staged a mighty defense.” Glorfindel soothed. “We remain hidden.” Erestor nodded, but his expression not relax.

“Is Elrond resting? I was surprised that he did not come down to us.” The back of his neck prickled.

“We have not found him. As far as anyone knows our Lord did not return to the house this morning. The gardens and his obvious retreats have been carefully searched.” Erestor reported.

“He must be deeply weary. Perhaps he has collapsed under his desk.” Glorfindel laughed.

“I think he is also injured.” Erestor said hurriedly.

“What?” Glorfindel was immediately concerned.

“I had Silsi examine his cup from this morning. I had an ill feeling. The aroma was unusual. She said that it contained a combination of herbs that are used to relieve pain without inducing sleep.” Glorfindel startled at that for it was his sworn duty to protect the heir of Earendil.

“Perhaps there are clues in his study.” They walked briskly towards the family wing. Silsilalda joined them holding a thermos.

“I brewed the draught that he sipped this morning.” She said briskly, handing the thermos to Glorfindel. “When you find him, I will be in his private healing room. I want to check what other medicines our Lord has been employing. By the way, Salia said that Lord Elrond has not spent much time in his room since the Lady sailed. She thought that he continued to sleep in his study. Today she noted a bloodied handkerchief near his desk.”

“The protections of the valley have been diminished. We should find him quickly.” Glorfindel paled. He wished that he had checked after his Lord this morning, when he first felt something was amiss. He turned to Erestor, who was staring at the floor.

“He may be on the cliff above the waterfall.” Erestor whispered. Silsilalda and Glorfindel stared at him, both gaping in surprise.

“Don’t tell me you are gifted with foresight too!” Silsilalda said sharply.

“No, Lady Celebrian told me she feared for him because of a dream she had, shortly before she sailed. It was something about being injured at the waterfall and she feared for his spirit. She bade me to look out for him.” He paused. “We have checked most places he would usually go for solitude. Go Glorfindel, I will follow with blankets and supplies. It has been raining all day, he must be soaked.”

Glorfindel rushed out through the gardens. Could it be that he had already failed to protect his Lord? No he would not let that possibility cloud his thoughts. He climbed up the rocky cliff, an assent made more dangerous as the rocks were slick were with rain. He rounded the corner, the water roaring below. He saw Elrond’s silhouette, standing at the edge. He released a breath he did not know he had been holding. Of course Elrond would endure, his whole life had been a tribute to his amazing resilience. He paused, how to approach him without startling him? Luckily, a soft voice carried to his ear.

“Perhaps Elros was the wiser, accepting Ilúvatar’s gift.” Elrond whispered. As he moved closer, it was clear even in the starless night that Elrond was trembling. Glorfindel approached him laying his hand gently on Elrond’s shoulder to steady him.

“Is it not more courageous to chose life over death? To continue the battle and endure?”

“I can not help my sons and they think my weak.” Elrond said softly. “It grieves me that I know not how to ease their pain. Would have it been better to have them see their Naneth’s death rather than to have her depart to a dream-world of Valinor from which she may never return?”

“They are blinded by rage. The acceptance of death to an immortal being is difficult.” Glorfindel stated, unused to his Lord displaying uncertainty. “You made the best choice possible for Celebrian and then stayed to protect your children when you yourself long to sail. You endured where others could not. You established Imladris as a center of learning and a haven for all regardless of their race. You have given all you have to your family and to the protection of Imladris.”

“It was not enough.” Elrond choked. Glorfindel gasped in disbelief.

“It was enough to protect the valley this day. None could ask more.” He pulled Elrond into a firm embrace and guided Elrond a safer distance from the precipice. Elrond winced.

“You are injured and weary.” Glorfindel stated, concerned how icy his friend’s skin felt. He pulled Elrond down to sit on the ground and began to carefully assess his condition, noting the pale complexion and blue-tinged lips. “You are nearly frozen.” Elrond did not respond. He ran his hands gently along Elrond’s torso. He felt hollow. He wondered whether was this from grief or from Vilya’s absence? He knew that wielding such power must come with a price. He could feel the ring’s presence in Elrond’s wet tunic. His hands passed over the right side. There was heat and pain there. He concentrated, broken ribs, perhaps. “Elrond, what happened?” He lifted his friend’s tunic, a fist-size angry red and purple circle adorned his side. He placed his hands gently over it, assessing the injury. Yes, definitely two broken ribs. Elrond flinched, releasing a hissing breath. “Elrond” he called gently. Elrond turned away not willing to acknowledge the injury. Glorfindel placed his hands on his friend’s chest, the heartbeat was thready and weak. He was surprised to see tears on his friend’s face.

“The sun is gone and my stars have fled.” Elrond’s eyes closed. “I don’t blame them. I could not give them the care they needed.” Glorfindel looked up at the dark sky thankful that the rain had ceased but wishing for a break in the clouds.

“No one could have done more. Do not despair; you will be reunited in Aman. Celebrian will be whole again.”

“We will never be whole again.” In his mind echoed the words from his vision. I chose a mortal life. He shuddered unconsciously and looked up for his father’s star, but the dark sky yielded no hope. Glorfindel felt Elrond’s heartbeat skip.

“Elrond” He commanded, pulling the dark head towards him so their eyes met. “What did you see?” He was expecting to hear his friend’s voice and was shocked when Elrond opened his mind and he was barraged by images: a glaring eye, the twins outnumbered against a hoard of orcs, Arwen shadowed her spirit fleeing, a dark army descending on a keep, the Golden woods aflame, Elrond alone on a ship with vacant eyes. More images merged, too numerous to comprehend. The connection ended. He looked down. Elrond was clearly in shock. He gathered his friend in his arms and held him close to his chest, hoping to impart some warmth to him. Tears came unbidden to his eyes. Foresight, more of a curse than a gift, he thought grimly. He pulled his cloak around Elrond. Erestor should be here soon. He placed his hands over Elrond’s chest, the heartbeat was dangerously irregular. "Please Eru", he prayed, "help me strengthen him." It was not a healing gift he possessed, but perhaps he would be blessed with it in Elrond’s time of need. He concentrated pouring all of his heart and thoughts towards Elrond and almost shouted for joy when he felt Elrond’s heart respond.

“You are strong. You will endure. Remember,” he said slowly. “visions are only what might be, not what will be.” Small comfort to images of the three beloved elflings dying, he thought. ”Your children will return to you.” He said confidently.

“My heart tells me that Arwen will never sail. I will stay …… and aid them …… with all I possess.” Elrond mumbled before falling unconscious. Glorfindel found the pocket in his friend’s wet tunic, removed Vilya and placed it in a pouch he carried. Soft footsteps and a cough warned of Erestor’s approach.

“I did not want to startle you in such a place.” Erestor said. “How is he?”

“Greatly weary and chilled.” Glorfindel said meeting Erestors eyes. “Two ribs are broken on the right side, but first we must warm him.”

Erestor drew in a deep breath at this information. He dug in his pack, pulling out dry clothing and extra blankets. “It is a long and slippery climb down. How will we manage it?”

Glorfindel pulled gently, easing the wet tunic over Elrond’s head. Erestor held back a gasp upon seeing the fist-shaped angry bruise. He quickly assessed the severity of the breaks then wrapped bandages around the site for protection.

"Either they were not displaced or he tended them earlier." Glorfindel noted softly. They gently maneuvered a dry tunic over Elrond and wrapped him in a thick cloak. Then Glorfindel drew him back into his arms protectively. Surrounded by the bright fea of the reborn warrior, Elrond stirred and opened his eyes. The normally shining silver eyes were cloudy with grief and confusion. Erestor poured some tea into a small cup.

“Drink.” He carefully guided the cup to Elrond’s lips. After a few swallows, Elrond’s eyes focused and he took the cup in unsteady hands.

“Thank you “ Elrond managed weakly as he finished the tea in slow sips. Erestor took the cup and refilled it.

“Finish this as well. It is he same as your tea this morning. We should get you back to the house.” Elrond looked away from his gaze, shame burned in his heart.

Erestor cupped his chin gently and took note of the emptiness in his friend’s eyes. He was suddenly angry at the twin’s treatment of this noble elf, who had endured countless trials already. “Elrond,” he said soothingly, “you gave hope to me, when I had none. You took me into your family. Please, let us, your family, strengthen you.” Elrond’s hands trembled in response and Glorfindel took the cup from them as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

“Flooding the ford takes all of his strength. Worry not, Erestor, it is mostly weariness.”

“Could Elladan be so dangerous?” Erestor could not speak the deed aloud. “His own father ….. They are dangerous in their rage.”

“They know not of their father’s burden nor the price of bearing such power. I will speak to them when they return.” Glorfindel stated.

“If they return.” countered Erestor.

“Nay when. Their father did not acknowledge their deed and bade them to remember that they were always welcome. But I fear when they do come, it will be due to grievous injury.”

“Perhaps they will realize the orc attack was centered on Imladris. They may come back then. “

“It is no coincidence that both Elrond’s and Thranduil’s families have been targeted, surely?”

“Nay it can not be a coincidence. Such a strike at their families weakens them both. Maybe it is a test to discern where a ring might reside.”

“Was the flooding of the ford a confirmation, then?”

“I don’t think any orc lived to report our location. That in itself could or could not be confirmation. I think that the enemy will be focused on Elrond as the Lord of Imladris. Though I know his skill with the sword, I believe that he should not travel from the valley except under great security.” Glorfindel mused.

“Will Elrond fade? Elves have faded when faced with much less.” Erestor worried.

“He is a Peredhel” Glorfindel corrected “perhaps others denigrate his heritage, but I think he has strength from both Edain, Elves and Maia. He will endure. Any ideas on how we should get him back to the house?”

“I brought ropes and a harness. Perhaps you can carry him on the decent.”

“A stubborn Peredhel will not take kindly to being carried.” Glorfindel grunted.

Erestor laughed. “I well remember. Hopefully he will stay unconscious through the experience.”

“I just worry about causing further injury to the ribs. It would be dangerous if they penetrated the lung.”

“We will stabilize them here and check them again as soon as we get down. “

Glorfindel sent a silent pray of thanks to Eru when they had reached the bottom of the cliff. Moments later Erestor landed beside him. Carefully, Erestor unbound Elrond from the harness and laid him gently on the ground.

“We should check that we haven’t caused further injury to the ribs.” Glorfindel stated. He unwound the protective covering and placed his hands over the site, concentrating. There had been only slight movement, the position of the bones mostly unchanged. He breathed a sigh of relief. Elrond stirred. “Best get him to the house quickly.”

“I’ll go get a litter.” Erestor turned but a weak voice stopped him.

“No!” Elrond whispered haltingly. “I can walk ….. a few moments ….. gather my strength …… just weary.” Glorfindel snorted.

“Get the litter, we do not want to further aggravate your injury.” He studied Elrond’s pale features.

“Please, my friends.” Elrond pleaded, his voice carrying desperation, which caught them both off-guard. Glorfindel nodded and helped Elrond to his feet, steadying him. Elrond swayed slightly and caught his breath.

“Thank you.” He whispered. Slowly they made their way back to the Last Homely House. Elrond walked on his own at first, but the weariness in his demeanor increased with each step towards the house, like a weight descending on him and he slowly began to lean more and more on Glorfindel, who pretended not to notice. By the time they reached the house, Elrond was barely standing, leaning on both Glorfindel and Erestor for support. A small gathering met them at the entrance to the house but Elrond returned none of their greetings. His eyes were clouded. Glorfindel shrugged slightly and offered little explanation.

“Our Lord is weary. Send for Silsilalda.” They climbed the stairs to the family wing. Silsilalda met them at the top.

“Where have you been?” She said sharply, softening when she observed Elrond’s now flushed face and clouded eyes. “ He is with fever.” She observed.

“Yes” Glorfindel agreed. “ and he has suffered two broken ribs.”

“I’ll meet you in his chambers.” She said, curious as to why Glorfindel offered no additional explanations.

“No.” Elrond said softly, suddenly coming to attention. “Here.” He gestured to the guest bedroom and gave no further explanation. They nodded in agreement, puzzled. Glorfindel quickly guided him inside and Erestor and Silsilalda left to get the necessities. He slipped the cloak from Elrond’s shoulders, setting him down on the bed and began to unwind the strips of cloth protecting his ribs. Finally he pulled the tunic over Elrond’s head and eased him down the pillow. He smiled as the grey eyes closed. Silsilalda soon returned with salves, bandages and tea.

“He drank the tea Erestor brought.” Glorfindel reported as he watched the healer examine his friend.

“This is willow bark to ease the fever.” She stated, placing her hand on Elrond’s forehead to assess his condition. “My Lord Elrond.” She called softly. His eyes fluttered and opened at her command but he was not fully awake. “Drink, please.” Glorfindel tipped his head while Silsilalda guided the tea slowly into his mouth, making sure he swallowed. Erestor and Glorfindel watched Silsilalda expertly assess and then care for Elrond. The fist shaped bruise directly above the broken ribs did not escape her notice. She followed the ribs with her gifted fingers and gently repositioned them before carefully binding them. Her healing song worked its magic, encouraging healing and even soothing the worried friends, who watched silently. Finally, she sat back and sighed, convinced that her work was accomplished. Erestor handed her the Lord’s blue silk night-shirt, which they then carefully pulled around the now sleeping Elrond.

“The ribs will heal, knitting together in a few weeks. He is in no danger from that injury.” She said, frowning slightly as she saw Elronds left hand settle over his heart.

“So long?” Erestor questioned.

“Remember he is truly half-elven, unlike his sons. I’ve seen him heal from injuries only a few times. Each time he took longer than expected for an elf but shorter than for a man. Do not fear, he will heal well. I’m more concerned about the weary and tormented state of his spirit and somehow I know he will not be forthcoming as to how he sustained this injury. Also, he is very weak. This is the first time I have ever been able to push him into a healing trance.” There was a long pause. “I talked to many in the staff and I believe that our Lord has not truly slept since the Lady sailed. His choice of room merely underscores that.”

“It is not good for him to remain alone, especially now with Celebrian gone and his children away.”

“His family has been his joy and strength.” Glorfindel added.

“The only herb used recently from his private stock, other those required for the pain reliever was chamomile.” Silsi knew it was used not only for its fragrance. When brewed into a tea, it calmed the spirit, but it also enhances the effects of alcohol when mixed with wine. Glorfindel considered this new information before slowly commenting.

“I know he has been grieving and I have tried at times to talk with him or distract him but he is in nature, very private. Celebrian could draw him out.”

“Well, she is gone, as are his children and he will need his friends to help him through this.”

“Yes,” they agreed to the unspoken pact to protect their dear and noble Lord.

“I’ll stay with him this evening.” Glorfindel stated, effectively dismissing them.

“He shouldn’t wake until morning at the earliest.” Silsilalda noted as she left.

Glorfindel watched his friend, contemplating how he might aid this reticent protector of Imladris. He checked Elrond intermittently and sighed when he felt Elrond already emerging from the healing trance into a deep sleep. He remembered Vilya stored in his pocket and pulled it out, turning it over in his hand. He shuddered at the power he felt in the ring. Best return it to Elrond once he woke and he placed the ring in on the table behind him. He settled back into the comfortable chair and stretched out his legs. It wasn’t long before he found himself drifting to the path of elven dreams. Uneasiness stirred him sometime before dawn and he shook his head returning to wakefulness. Elrond was gasping in his sleep, his pale face accenting the now bluish lips. He focused on Elrond fully, grasping both his hands. His friends pulse was racing and he could feel the turmoil of his friend’s spirit, battling unknown horrors in dream. His breath came in quick raspy gasps, too rapid to give him adequate oxygen.

“Elrond, awake and come towards the light.” He commanded. Elrond thrashed on the bed still in the throws of his dreams. “Elrond, return to me.” Glorfindel focused calm and peace towards him. Counting in his head, Glorfindel strove to steady and calm his friend, whose eyes met his, though were clouded and unseeing. Elrond was aware of a piercing brilliant light, enveloping and guiding him. Obediently, he followed, basking in the warm glow it imparted, it soothed and calmed, reminding him of lounging on a blanket under the summer sun.

“Slowly, breathe in and out.” The beautiful light soothed. “Slowly” He recognized that voice. Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings and the golden light flowing into him. His sight cleared and startled, he found himself staring into Glorfindel’s eyes.

“All is well, Elrond.” Glorfindel soothed not breaking eye contact. “Steady, my friend.”

“Such radiance ...” Elrond whispered, awed. His heart still raced and head pounded. The pain etched in those silver eyes made Glorfindel sigh.

“I am no less humbled by your compassion and care for all who pass through Imladris, Elrond. I have sworn to protect you and have grown to love you. Please, your spirit is injured and perhaps it can only be at peace again in Aman. But I would do all in my power to help you.” Elrond nodded.

“You removed Vilya yesterday?” He questioned.

“It is nearby.” Elrond said caught in Glorfindel’s powerful stare. After a long moment, he continued. “I felt an enemy fixed on Imladris, perhaps seeking an Elven ring. Given my weariness, it was prudent to remove it.”

“The red burning eye?" Glorfindel asked. Elrond trembled unconsciously, confused at how Glorfindel would know the image. “What is it?”

“How? Yes.” He said slowly. “Perhaps it is a manifestation of Sauron or one of his minions. It radiated malice ….. I drew back behind my protections, it did not perceive me.” He felt Glorfindel’s eyes bore right through him assessing the state of his spirit and the truth of his words. “I cast my thoughts towards the perimeter guard and felt the twins fury as they headed to meet their foes, it was more than I could bear.” He admitted.

“You are still greatly weary. When was the last time you ate anything?”

“I don’t recall.” Elrond said weakly, his forehead creased in pain.

“Well, that’s easily remedied.” Once he was sure Elrond was calm and awake, Glorfindel released him from his gaze. Elrond slowly moved to sit up, one of his free hands immediately moving to his chest, folding into a fist over his heart. He felt Glorfindel move beside and steady him, fixing pillows behind him to support his back. Glorfindel’s hand opened revealing the golden circle and blue light that was Vilya.

“I return this to your keeping.” He said as he held out his hand watching Elrond curiously. Elrond drew a deep breath and moved the hand that was not twined in his shirt towards Glorfindel’s outstretched one, stopping just above it. He wasn’t sure what held him back, though he felt somehow that it wasn’t he who claimed the ring, but rather Vilya that acquiesced to him keeping it. They both heard Vilya’s song of recognition and it was Glorfindel who set the ring on Elrond’s finger. Elrond’s heart both rejoiced and recoiled at the rhythm of the ring, which pulsed wildly, forcing his spirit into unnatural constraints. Elrond’s face clearly registered pain as the power trembled through him. His face softened as the pulse settled into a slower, mutually agreeable song. The valley sung out in greeting, his world expanding beyond the guest room. The ring disappeared from view.

Glorfindel studied him closely, his eyes betraying his concern. “Is it painful to bear?” Elrond’s breathing steadied and his color improved, though lines of weariness were clearly visible under his eyes.

“In safer times, I did not wield it much. I was not compelled to constantly assess the security of the valley. Also, I feared that the through use of this power, nature within the valley would grow dependent on it.” Elrond paused thinking. “But the time of safety and choice is long past.”

“Is it painful to bear?” Glorfindel repeated. “This is the first time I have witnessed it placed on your finger.”

Elrond stared at him, considering his reply. Then he said softly “In the first moments, we strive to find a balance, Vilya and I. It molds my spirit around its power in a way I cannot express. It is at once both constraining and liberating, far extending my own abilities. But the boundaries imposed on the bearer are narrow and sharp and for the first moments it feels like a knife, slicing into my fëa. As we settle into a rhythm the pain dissipates.”

“I didn’t know.” Glorfindel said softly.

Elrond looked at him and smiled slightly. “I think we agree that Eru did not intend such power for Elves.” He paused considering his words more carefully. “I have feared my parents trials that I too should be faced to chose between protecting the ring over those who I love. I remember my Mother tipping the Silmaril into my hands saying, it breaks Elves easier.” He paused again.

“It is not a Silmaril and yet in it dwells the possibility of enslavement as Celeborn wisely recognized. No elf could wield one of the three through the ages of Arda, not even Galadriel. I will endure as long as I am able. I have sworn to protect Imladris and continue until Sauron is destroyed or my spirit arrives in Mandos Halls …..” Elrond shuddered unconsciously at the third unspoken possibility.

“You will not be enslaved by the one. Not while I still live.” Glorfindel swore, placing a hand on Elrond’s shoulder in comfort.

“I pray that you are correct. For I fear the horror that would be unleashed upon the world by a tenth Ulairi.” His voice trembled. He heard Galadriel speaking urgently in his mind.

"Elrond, is all well?" He was too weak to respond fully managing only a brief reply.

"Safe ….. weary."

A light knock echoed at the door.

“Come,” Glorfindel called. Erestor walked in carrying a tray with fruits, assorted sweet breads and tea.

“I was surprised to hear voices this early.” Erestor said. “It is good to see you awake, though you look like you are still in need of much rest.” He noted Elrond’s pained features.

“When did you last eat?” Erestor inquired while setting the tray on the bed in front of Elrond. Here is willow bark tea for fever and pain.” Elrond took the tea but did not drink.

“Is there any news?” Elrond asked in a low voice.

“A messenger Hawk arrived approximately a half hour ago.” He handed the note to Glorfindel, who opened it and quickly scanned it.

“What news?” Elrond asked impatiently.

“Fear not my friend, your sons and our warriors are safe. Aid came from the Dúnedain and together they routed the orcs. There are many injured but thank Eru, no deaths. They took refuge in the Dúnedain village and are now tending to the injured. They will return to Imladris once the river recedes.” Everyone visibly relaxed at the news.

“It is clear that the orcs were focused on locating Imladris. Why?” Erestor wondered.

“Evil stirs again and seeks the One.” Elrond said slowly. “One of the three in the hands of the enemy would aid their search. I think the defenses of Mirkwood and Imladris are both being tested to determine the probability of an Elven ring residing there.” Elrond closed his eyes, visibly tired.

“You don’t remember when you last ate.” Erestor prompted.

“No, I don’t.”

“You need to rebuild your strength. Sip some of the tea.” Erestor gently coaxed.

“Not now.” Elrond said his eyes still closed as his stomach churned. Glorfindel reached across and grabbed the bowl of strawberries.

“Sleep my friend.” He chuckled. “I’ll take care of these.” He proceeded to loudly savor the ripe strawberries, smacking his lips with delight. He watched Elrond grimace.

“How many of you are there? Surely, one being cannot make that much noise!” Elrond groaned. Glorfindel laughed, biting loudly into another berry.

“You forget when the twins were little.” Elrond smiled at the memory, his mood lightening and the tension in his stomach dissipating. Glorfindel sucked at another berry with obvious glee.

“They taste terrible, Elrond.” He teased, swinging the bowl just beyond Elrond’s reach. Elrond open his eyes and glared at him.

“Are you going to share?” He complained, having decided he might be interested in indulging in a berry or two.

“These are mine, now!" Glorfindel laughed, pulling the bowl to one side. But Erestor caught him off-guard, swiping the bowl from his hands and pushing him back into the chair.

“Go, get your own bowl, Lord Glorfindel.” Erestor admonished. “A bath might also be in order.” He sniffed with mock disdain. Glorfindel laughed, his voice tinkling merrily.

“Ai, my Lords, I will take my leave.” He said while rising gracefully from the chair. “I’ll be back shortly.” He bowed mockingly at them, sweeping his hand in a graceful arch before turning and disappearing through the door. Erestor was pleased to spy a slight smile gracing Elrond’s lips, though his left hand was curiously entwined in his shirt. He passed Elrond the bowl.

“One would think a Lord of Gondolin would display more manners.” The dark haired advisor shook his head. Elrond took a ripe berry, sighing slightly before proceeding to eat it with glee equal to Glorfindel’s. Erestor proceeded to apprise him of the situations from the previous day and suggested that they send messages to the Havens, Mirkwood, and Lorien as well as a response to the Dúnedain. He noted Elrond’s exhaustion and pushed the tea towards him.

“Silsi suggested this tea. It contains willow bark.” He reminded Elrond. “Are you still feeling feverish?” He questioned not expecting Elrond to admit to feeling ill. “You look weary.”

“No sleeping draught?” Elrond asked suspiciously.

“Not that I know of.” Erestor laughed. “I recommend the nut bread, it might still be warm. Cook was extolling its virtues this morning, explaining the recipe in excruciating detail as he pulled it from the oven.” Erestor rolled his eyes. Elrond smirked but broke off a small piece to taste.

“He was quite distraught and adamantly protested your continued absence from the kitchens this week.” He saw Elrond take another bite followed by a sip of tea.

“He swears it is bad for moral, when you don’t visit or attend dinner. Further, he observed that Glorfindel, Silsilalda and I are but poor substitutes for you.” Erestor stated mock offense. Elrond’s eyes twinkled as he drank more of the tea. He held back a yawn.

“This is not a sleeping draught?” He asked suspiciously.

“From the look of you, I doubt that one is necessary. How long before dawn were you up?” Erestor teased. He swore that Elrond rolled his eyes in response. The playful banter was having the desired effect. Elrond had relaxed, lowering his guard. Not long after he finished the tea, his eyes closed. Erestor eased him back down on to the pillow, taking the opportunity to lay his hand on his forehead to assess his condition. Curiously, his brow was still quite warm. Erestor moved the tray from the bed and went to seek Silsilalda. The healer was coming up the stairs when he reached the end of the hall.

“Ahh, I was just looking for you.” He said.

“Glorfindel apprised me of the situation. How he awoke so early, I do not know. Hyperventilating," Silsilalda paused in thought. "It is also quite unusual. I will check him again.”

“What?” Erestor said, confused. “He still has a mild fever.”

“Did you get him to eat or drink anything?” They walked into the bedroom.

“He drank all the tea and ate some strawberries and a half of piece of bread, not nearly enough.” Silsilalda sighed in response to Erestor’s update.

“Were there sleeping herbs in the tea?” Erestor wondered

“I can’t reveal all my secrets.” Silsi smiled wickedly. “Apparently, I can not push him into a healing sleep after all, perhaps Lord Glorfindel can. In any case, the mild draught should keep him sleeping until noon. He will be none the wiser.” By evening, Elrond still showed no signs of waking and was again hot with fever. Silsilalda stood near him, a puzzled look on her face. She turned to Glorfindel.

“He is unconscious again, not in a healing sleep and he burns with fever. I coaxed some willow bark tea into him. The fever should recede soon, though I’m puzzled as to its origin. Men sometimes suffer fever after broken bones.”

“It has been a trying few months for him. He is pushed beyond his endurance and may need extra care for awhile.” Glorfindel laid his hands on Elrond’s brow. It was hot to the touch. Elrond was a renown healer and except for the final battle of the last alliance and his grief following Celebrian’s departure, Glorfindel could not recall any other time in this age where his friend had been ill. It was unsettling. He reached out to try to brush Elrond’s mind with his own. But the elf lord was unconscious and unreadable.

“There appears to be no danger by the Bruinen. The Scouts report no Orc activity. Tell Erestor I will stay with Elrond again tonight. Don’t forget to rest too, Silsi.”

“Goodnight Lord Glorfindel.” Silsilalda departed.

Later that night, Glorfindel was startled awake again by Elrond’s gasping breath. He quickly moved and grasped Elrond’s hands, directing calm and peace towards him. Gradually, Elrond’s breathing steadied and Glorfindel pushed his friend into a deep healing sleep. Perhaps he could keep him in healing sleep for a day. He relaxed upon feeling Elrond’s head. The fever was temporarily under control. He shook his own head wearily, his heart troubled. How, he marveled, had Elrond comforted Celebrian chasing away her tormented dreams each night for much of the past year? Two nights alone taxed him. He sank into the chair, exhausted and slipped back into dreams.

The early morning sun warmed his face and woke him. Glorfindel rubbed his eyes, groggy and checked for Elrond. The bed was empty and the sleep clothes folded neatly on the table beside the bed. Sighing, he realized Elrond must have risen before him. A shower would feel good right now. After a leisurely shower, Glorfindel emerged for breakfast. Erestor and Cook both greeted him.

“Does Elrond still sleep?” Erestor asked.

“No, he awoke before me. I assumed he would have come here.” Glorfindel noted with some concern.

“I saw Lord Elrond climbing the Mallorn tree, just before dawn.” One of the warriors reported.

“I’ll make up a basket with breakfast for you to take to him, perhaps you can tempt him to eat.” Cook said. Erestor and Glorfindel nodded, somewhat relieved. It wasn’t long until they arrived at the Mallorn, it whispered contentedly, obviously enjoying the company of the noble elf in its branches. Glorfindel climbed first, settling on a branch near Elrond. He laughed when Elrond stirred from a light sleep,

“Obviously your scouting skills are diminished, if you let me sneak up on you so easily.” Glorfindel teased. “Perhaps you should attend training.”

“The noble Mallorn would have warned me, had you displayed ill intensions.” Elrond yawned, placing his hand on the tree and closing his eyes briefly to send a message of thanks to the glorious tree.

Glorfindel smiled, glad to see Elrond in good humor. “Are your Silvan sensibilities emerging?”

Elrond looked at him, his eyes twinkling. “Remember, you gifted us the seed that grew into this magnificent tree.” He said, thinking fondly on how Celebrian and he had planted and nurtured it, well before they were blessed with elflings.

Erestor handed him a cup of tea and opened the basket. “You must be hungry. How long have you been up here?”

“I greeted the dawn from these branches, something I haven’t done in a long time.” He said slowly, sipping the tea. “This is not a sleeping draught, is it? He eyed Erestor suspiciously.

“No” Erestor laughed. “My, you are a suspicious one. I’ll have you know that this came from the kitchens. I don’t think Cook keeps a supply of medicinal herbs there. Otherwise, the inhabitants of Imladris would be in serious jeopardy.” Elrond chuckled softly at that thought and picked up a bowl of fruit, slowly starting to eat. Unconsciously, his mind assessed the valley.

“The river is still too high to cross and it will remain so for a few more days. I can’t perceive anything past the Bruinen.” He noted sourly and took a few more bites of fruit. Glorfindel eyed him carefully, noting the remaining lines of weariness as well as the flushed features.

“You are still weary, Elrond. How long has it been since you last slept though a night?” Not surprised when Elrond did not respond. “Honestly, I don’t know how you managed.”

“I was resting, when you disturbed me.” Elrond countered, deftly avoiding the question.

Erestor handed him a blueberry pastry. “Breakfast is a start. It would be quite novel of you to join us for a second meal today.” Elrond scowled.

“You’re turning into Silsilalda. I don’t need any more nursemaids.”

“Point taken.” Erestor raised his hands, but he felt happy when Elrond nibbled at the pastry. He gave Glorfindel and Elrond an update, relaying the messages he had sent to the other Elves and informing them of the key happenings in the Valley. After he was finished Elrond nodded, his eyes usually so unreadable, betrayed his exhaustion. Elrond set the remaining half of his pastry in the basket.

“Erestor, thank you for taking care of everything in my - absence. I will need to rely on your judgment for while longer. I am sorry… I have never felt such weariness.” He admitted.

“It is my pleasure to help.” He handed Elrond the tea. “You need to rest and recover your strength.”

“It was your strength that protected the valley.” Glorfindel reminded him. He reported on the information from the watch and what was known of events from beyond the river. “There have been no sightings of Orcs so far.” He looked at Elrond, whose head had drooped slightly and smiled when he realized Elrond was walking the paths of dreams again. The tree was whispering calming songs in support.

“He’s sleeping!” said Erestor with some surprise.

“Yes, it is what he needs most.” Glorfindel agreed. He gently extracted the cup from Elrond's hand. “We should send a message directly to the twins.” He said frowning slightly when he realized that Elrond’s hand was again clenched over his heart.

“I fear they have blocked or withdrawn their bonds to their father. With Arwen separated by distance and Celebrian by the sea, the loss of these bonds to his sons must be nearly too much for his heart to bear.” He reached over and gently felt Elrond’s brow. “Still, a low fever taxes his strength.”

“Is it safe to leave him here?” Erestor wondered.

“I think the great Mallorn’s care far surpasses our own.” Glorfindel said turning his thoughts to the tree in gratitude. He felt the tree respond with pride.

“He hardly ate again.” Erestor observed. “He grows alarmingly thin.”

“We will coax more into him when he awakens.”

“Perhaps lunch today.”

“I doubt he will wake before dinner.” Glorfindel said, noting that Elrond’s eyes had closed in exhaustion. They carefully descended from the Mallorn.

“I’ll warn the house that he is up here and have a guard keep watch so none disturb him.” Erestor said.

It was getting dark and the air had cooled. Elrond woke with a slight shiver. He noted a blanket was now wrapped around him. The tree greeted him again in song and he thanked it in return. “Thank you for your kindness, Old friend.” It beckoned him to come back soon. “I will, my friend.” He climbed down slowly, jumping the final two meters and landing lightly on the ground. He felt dizzy and sat down at the roots of the tree to rest, drawing slow, calming breaths. There had not been many times in his long life when he had been ill or injured and he greatly disliked this feeling of weakness. He was not sure how long he had sat there when he recognized the light footfalls of Silsilalda.

“How are you feeling, my Lord?” Questioned the head healer gently as she sank down beside him and felt his brow – still too warm to the touch.

“Tired and dizzy.” He answered truthfully. She studied him, slowly assessing his condition.

“ I think you need nourishment, you’ve missed too many meals. Come, the evening meal is almost over.” She took the blanket from him and helped him to his feet, noting his unsteadiness. She guided him towards the Hall of Fire, discreetly bearing some of his weight. It was only about half full, due to the late hour, but it was more people than Elrond had seen in many days and the hum of conversation pained his head. He looked up, in response to the gentle pull on his left arm. Glorfindel was smiling at him. After a slight shake of his head in thanks to Silsilalda, Glorfindel lead Elrond to his usual seat.

“It is good to see you here, my Lord.” The Vanya gently acknowledged. Elrond made an effort to smile and return the many greetings, though the world around him was strangely blurred. He was surprised when he looked down to find a steaming bowl of mushroom soup below him and realized it did smell delicious. The others were talking but he couldn’t focus on their words. Erestor eyed him with scrutinizing stare, than passed him a glass of his favorite wine and smiled reassuringly. He took a few bites of the soup and enjoyed the feeling of warmth that immediately spread through him.

“I thought you were never going to leave that tree. We were about to place some wagers.” Erestor laughed. “By the way, that Mallorn is very protective of you. It would not allow me to climb up to you yesterday unless I promised not to wake you.”

“Yesterday?” Elrond said puzzled. They all laughed.

“Yes, it was yesterday when we enjoyed breakfast together in the Mallorn.” Glorfindel confirmed.

Elrond went to have another bit of soup, but found his spoon empty. He looked down and realized that he had finished the bowl.

“You look disoriented. Take a sip of wine.” Erestor coaxed.

Cook removed the soup bowl and set a plate of rabbit stew with a fiddlehead and bean salad before him. “This should entice you to join us more often. You are growing too thin, my Lord.” He said smiling.

“Thank you “ Elrond managed to reply.

The wine helped ease his apprehension at having somehow slept through a whole day and the succulent fiddleheads made his mouth water. His sight cleared and he recognized Lindir and the musicians clearing away the tables in the corner and setting up for the evening’s entertainment. Once he had started eating, he found that he was indeed hungry. Before he knew it he had finished dinner and was sipping his wine contentedly, his lips curved in a small smile. Erestor refilled his glass. The hum of conversation and the music flowed together in Elrond’s mind. Lindir was singing a ballad, the words merging with the tones of the harp and lute, weaving a soothing balm for his spirit.

Glorfindel looked at Elrond both amused and concerned at seeing his Lord so oblivious to the conversations swirling around him but also happy to see him somewhat contented.

“He is not well. I have never seen him so dazed. Should we bring him back upstairs?” Erestor questioned.

“No, he is not yet well.” Glorfindel agreed. “But he is enjoying the music. I’ll take care of him. Perhaps tonight is a good time to settle him back into his own chambers instead of the guest room.” Glorfindel mused.

Elrond awoke to the mid-day sun. He was stretched out in his own bed, though he could not remember how he had gotten here. He turned, half expecting to see Celebrian asleep next to him. Tears came to his eyes as memories came back to him. The smell of roses wafted in the air, a scent that reminded Elrond of her presence. He closed his eyes and imagined her laughter, reveling in the time they had been together.

A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie. “Elrond?” Erestor’s voice came before the door opened. He smiled to see him. “Ah, good, you are awake.” Erestor said approaching him. Elrond blinked away the confusion. Erestor sighed and turned towards the bath. The sounds of water filling the tub were soothing. “The Bruinen is passable – probably the warriors will return later today.” Elrond nodded still groggy. Erestor laughed.

“You look much improved. Although Cook is upset that you appear only to eat one meal a day. I brought you lembas to give you a little strength.” He said, breaking off a small piece, handing it to Elrond and placing the rest on a small plate on the night table. “Why don’t you have a bath and I will have a meal up to your study later.” Elrond agreed, nibbling on the lembas, but he made no move to get up. Erestor laughed again and pulled him upright.

“You better get up or Silsilalda will be in here. One can only make so many excuses.”

Erestor departed and Elrond eased himself into the hot bath. The temperature made him light headed and he closed his eyes briefly enjoying the warmth before washing and dressing. He sat down in front of the mirror to comb and braid his hair, remembering the pleasure that Celebrian took in braiding it for him. Such a simple thing, he thought.

He rose, intending on going to his study. He thoughts reached out to assess the valley then beyond. A great darkness shimmered threateningly, searching and devouring. Cautiously, he turned his thought to it, but it was not within the valley. He pulled back trying to focus on his room, but still felt himself swept towards the Misty Mountains. He hesitated then focused on a safe spot – The Havens, he thought, but the force of the darkness still drew him against his will towards the gap between Lorien and Mirkwood. Black towers rose up in front of him. Orcs and dark beasts….. terror and fearful prisoners, suffering prisoners both Elven and Edain. He recognized the icy darkness of the Nazgul Captain. Its attention was divided: on seeking out the One, on building new forces, on planning raids and experimenting on Orcs.

“Elven power.” The Nazgul screamed, sensing Elrond’s presence but unable to see or identify him.

“Who are you?” It demanded. “Where are you? Show yourself!” Elrond felt darkness seeping into his being. He pulled back his thoughts, locking them behind a barricade in his mind. The enemy attacked. “I will devour your soul, leaving you in endless torment.”

Elrond called on the blue light of Vilya. The blackness was searing like a knife of ice plunging into his soul. He bit back the involuntary cry that threatened to reveal his location. Struggling, he finally succeeded in pulling back, casting his thoughts towards random destinations to confuse his attacker. Finally, he succeeded in evading it by disappearing into an icy sea, Helcaraxë perhaps, he thought grimly. He felt weak, a sensation of drowning. White and red beacons called to him and he grasped up for them with renewed hope and strength. He flew through tunnels, finally recognizing the valley and returning to himself. The collision and reunion with his body was jarring and he stumbled forward, falling unconscious on the floor.

Xxxxxxxxxx

“Elflings!” Glorfindel intercepted them as they tried to slip out of the healing wing. “Thank you for escorting the injured home.” Elladan eyed the Golden warrior with surprise.

“It is our duty.” He returned.

“You have been avoiding some of your duties of late.” Glorfindel said softly. “We must speak of these in private.”

“We would like to return to the Dunedain, to thank them.” Elladan and Elrohir gave off impatient shrugs.

"Tomorrow is the earliest they will leave.” Glorfindel replied. “Perhaps you would rather spar with me?” He lead them down to the training field. A half-hour later, Ellladan found himself on his back with Glorfindel’s sword nearly touching his chest. “Leave your anger behind, little one.” He moved his sword and helped Elladan to his feet. Turning to Elrohir he said.

“Are you up for sparring as well? I’m all warmed up now.” The Golden Warrior taunted. Elrohir shook his head slowly.

“I have far to many bruises to want to spar with you, Glorfindel.”

“Fine, let us discuss the security of the valley, while we relax in a hot bath.” They headed for the warriors bath. It was empty, except for the three of them and they eased themselves into the water. Elrohir was sporting a surprising number of colorful bruises. Elladan had a silver line running along his arm, a healing sword wound, most likely.

“One got past my defenses.” Elladan admitted. “But it is almost healed.”

“Your father needs you. Do not shut him out or close off your bonds to him.” Glorfindel was not one to mince words. The twins both grimaced.

“Ada doesn’t need anyone.” Elladan retorted.

“You are mistaken. One alone cannot long stand. He has lost too many loved ones, and he is grieving even more than you. Perhaps he is unable, now, to help heal your grief, but it is not out of lack of concern or love. His heart is pierced from many these many losses. Do not make him suffer yours as well.”

“What did he tell you?” Elrohir asked.

“You father?” Glorfindel snorted. “Surely, you know that he did not reveal anything about your argument and the subsequent events. But I am not blind. Silsilalda tended his broken ribs.” Elladan looked down in shame. “Your father spends much of himself to protect this haven and his burden does not allow him to leave his responsibilities to seek vengence for your Naneth’s wounding.” Glorfindel’s voice dropped to a mere whisper.

“You may believe that the Bruinen reacts on its own accord to protect Imladris, but truly it is your father's power that controls the river. He was already under great stress and directing such power drained him dangerously.” It was as close to a confirmation that Elrond held one of the Elven rings that he dare make. The light in the twin’s eyes told him that his message had been partially understood.

“How is he?” Elrohir asked

“He is still very weak, but recovering. Your presence and support would greatly aid that recovery.”

"On the contrary, I think our presence has injured him.” Elladan said. “We can not stay here in the Valley. Here, I feel tormented. The memories of this past year are too overwhelming.” Elladan admitted.

“Think on the words your father said when you last took your leave. United we are strong. You all need time to heal. It will not happen on this day, but you can make a beginning by reestablishing your bond with your father. Please do this before you ride out of the valley again.”

“How did you know?” Elladan said.

“It will be quite obvious when you see him. Know that he is much improved. But he still unconsciously rubs his hands over his heart, much like the lone survivors from Dorian, who had lost all kin. Fear not, your father is too strong to fade, but he would be stronger if his bonds to his children were intact.”

“I don’t know that I can face him after what I’ve done.” Elladan lamented.

“You know he will forgive you. In time, you must also forgive yourselves. You did all you could for your Naneth. Know that these misfortunes have not befallen your family by chance. I believe that the enemy has targeted the house of Elrond and your father directly. Would you not agree that Imladris was the target of the Orc attack?”

“Yes, though we wondered why.” Elrohir replied.

“Likely on a quest to find Imladris and test our defense and discern what power resides here.” The twins both drew in deep breaths at this news. “Do you think what happened to your Naneth as well as to the Queen of Mirkwood are coincidences? To divide a house is to weaken it.” Glorfindel’s voice dropped. “I think your father is a priority target, though he is too humble to agree.” A shutter went through both of the twins. “I strive to keep him from venturing beyond the valley. His security and yours as well are my concern. Arwen is safe in Lorien with your Daernaneth.” Glorfindel stepped out of the bath and dried himself off. “The darkness is coming. We cannot fight it if we are divided.”

“We will come with you to see Ada.” The twins said in unison.

“That is good to hear.” Came Erestor’s voice in response as he emerged into the bathing chamber. "Your Ada should be dressed by now. He is awake for the first time in two days. I have arranged for refreshments in his study.” Glorfindel dressed and quickly pulled a comb through his hair. The twins did likewise and followed Erestor back up to the house.

“He is still recovering. Earlier in the week we were placing bets on how long he was going to sleep in the Mallorn tree.” Erestor told them.

“The Mallorn?” Elladan repeated in shock.

“Who won?” Elrohir chuckled.

“He slept up there and did not awaken until dinner time on the next day! The great Mallorn would let no trespassers up to wake him, so protective was it of your father.” Glorfindel said. The twins stared aghast.

“I didn’t know that Ada has wood elf blood in him!” Elrohir said disparagingly.

“You and your father can be claimed by many kindreds. Apparently, even by trees.” Erestor chuckled. They emerged into the study, surprised not to find Elrond there.

“I’ll go check on him.” Glorfindel offered. He walked down the hall to Elrond’s chambers.

Xxxxxxxxx

Elrond opened his eyes slowly, a sharp pain and wave of cold passed through him. He sat up gingerly and pressed his hands to his head, hoping to steady himself. Shudders past through him in waves, growing stronger with each passing. He knew it would be some time yet before they crested, having experienced such consequences nearly an age ago while fulfilling Gil-Galad’s orders. Then he had used Vilya to search for the locations and to attempt to ascertain the tactics of Sauron’s armies, all while trying to avoid the perception of the One. It was either Erestor’s or Glorfindel’s job to watch over him, to ensure that he had not been compromised, no matter what the cost. At one point the dangers and their effects grew too great and those attempts were abandoned. Still the darkness of those searches haunted him. Vilya was now too enmeshed within his being to allow him to cloak himself long from the perception of the One if it were ever reclaimed. Another wave of cold horror from the black breath of the Ulairi passed violently through him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to remain conscious. He felt the bile rise in his throat and reached for the basket on the floor. The wave of nausea engulfed him.

Glorfindel knocked at the door to Elrond’s chambers. He heard gasps followed by an unmistakable retching sound. He threw open the door and ran to Elrond, dropping to his knees to support his friend until the nausea subsided. Suddenly, Erestor was handing him a towel. He wiped Elrond’s face and took his friends cold, clammy hands in his own, pulling him into his arms. He could feel the cold horror that Elrond was experiencing. Elrond shook violently as a seizure engulfed him and he let out a moan.

“Ereinion!” Elrond cried, his eyes closed tightly in pain, “I …can not. Find another way.” He moaned. Blood blossomed at the corner of his mouth. The glass of water slipped from Erestor’s hand and crashed to the floor. Glorfindel’s heart nearly stopped in shock. The twins stood in silence feeling the almost palpable fear that crossed over the faces of the wise Elves they had always considered their protectors. Another seizure engulfed Elrond.

“What is this, Glorfindel?” Elladan demanded, wiping the blood from his father’s lips. Neither his father’s councilor nor the golden Seneshal responded. They both had gone white. Elladan pulled his father into his arms shocked by the icy feel of his skin.

“Ereinion? Gil-Galad?” Elladan shouted. “What does this mean?” He grabbed on one of his father’s hands, instinctively knowing how to help. Elrohir pried his father’s other hand from where it was clenched within his tunic.

“Adar!” The twins called in unison, forming a protective circle around him. Reaching out with their minds, they tried to connect with their father, to reestablish their bond and strengthen him. A cold dread passed through them as they touched their father’s spirit but their love and concern flowed back into him, warming him.

“Ada, come back to us!” Elrohir called. A blue light flowed between them carrying the song of their father’s essence. An Elven ring? Their father was one of the keepers? Both were stunned by the revelation. Elrohir explored his father’s hand with his fingers and felt the invisible ring pulsing in unison to the song of his father’s spirit.

“Ada, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” Elladan called, bending over to kiss his father’s head. “Come back to us!” They called together. Elrond’s breathing deepened and slowed. Minutes passed in silence as the trembling gradually subsided and Elrond collapsed limply against Elladan.

Erestor left the room and returned with towels, hot water and fresh Aethelas. He bruised the leaves and cast them into the water. The refreshing smell of a gentle spring breeze filled the chamber. Elrohir gently cleaned his father’s face, wiping his brow with the soothing Aethelas water.

“Ada” Elrohir sobbed softly. Elrond blinked, his pupils were large black saucers obscuring his grey eyes. His limbs did not respond to his attempts to move them.

“Ion-nín.” He whispered hoarsely, tears filling his eyes.

“Ada” the twins cried in unison sandwiching him in a protective hug.

“My beloved sons.”

“Ada, I am so sorry. Please, forgive me.” Elladan said.

“Ion-nín, you have come back to me.” Elrond’s voice trembled with joy.

“We are here, Ada.” They answered in unison.

“My precious sons.” Tears rolled unchecked down Elrond’s checks. Elrohir hugged him and kissed his head.

“What happened?” Elladan asked almost unable to bear the sight of his father, always the strong and secure patriarch, in such a weakened state.

“Thank you for your aid.” He choked out weakly. “I have not …. experienced an attack for millennium.” Elladan supported his head. Elrohir held a cup of water for him, tipping a small sip into his mouth. His eyes closed momentarily with each swallow. Elrond made no move to hold the cup, willing all his remaining strength to his words. “Worry not, I will be on guard, now that I know the danger.”

“What danger? “ Elladan asked.

“The Witch King of Angmar reemerges….establishes a stronghold at Dol Guldor.” Elrond said brokenly, “He sent the Orcs here.” His voice wavered and he closed his eyes trying to push away the pain and focus on delivering a report as he would have done for his King. “angry at this failure…..….worried he may have been detected.” The shock in the room was palpable. “focusing next on Mirkwood.” He trembled.

“Adar?” Elladan pulled him closer his voice was edged with fear.

“Safe now ….. thank you” Elrond offered weakly, pausing to gather enough energy to complete this final thought. “I love you both.” He fainted. The room was draped in a stunned silence and it was many minutes before anyone moved.

“Safe now ….. thank you” Elrond offered weakly, pausing to gather enough energy to complete this final thought. “I love you both.” He fainted. The room was draped in a stunned silence and it was many minutes before anyone moved.

Glorfindel pulled the blankets back as Elrohir lifted his father and carefully laid him in the bed. Elladan sat next to his father and gently stroked his head. Elrohir pulled a chair close to the bed,. He was visibly trembling and sat down and picked up his father’s hand. Glorfindel, who was still white with shocked, ambled to the bench near the window, seating himself in the soothing sunlight. Erestor moved silently to clean up the broken glass and then took the basket from the room. When he returned he was carrying a tray with four glasses and a cordial. He poured out Miruvor for everyone. They sipped in silence, each thankful for the refreshment and strengthening it provided. After the reviving cordial, Elrohir, the most trained healer among them, gentle examined his father and found him deeply unconscious. He closed his eyes in shame as his hands passed over the now healing ribs. Elladan looked away, having received the assessment wordlessly from his twin. Elladan was the first to speak. He rested his hand on his father’s head.

“Glorfindel, I think you owe us an explanation or at least a description of the last time Ada suffered an attack. I’m assuming it must have been while Ada was the High King’s Herald and after Gil-Galad entrusted him with one of the three.” He added quietly as he ran his hand over the spot were his father wore the invisible band. Horror passed over Glorfindel’s face as he thought back on those times. It was Erestor who spoke in a quiet voice.

“It is forbidden to speak openly of the three. You must never discuss much less hint at their existence outside of here.” He cast the twins a stern look that would have impressed even Elrond. “I have stationed Curin at the end of the hall to guard us, no one will interrupt us.” After a long pause, Erestor continued.

“They were desperate times, those seven years of battles against Annatar, who had finally been revealed for all as Sauron. Gil-Galad had employed this means to search for any information that might aid us or our allies. In secret, he called on Elrond and bade him to employ the ring likewise. Your father was well aware of the danger. Sauron wielded the One ring. To be perceived by the One meant possibly being overcome and enslaved. Such is the fate of the nine. Glorfindel and I swore an oath to Gil-Galad to prevent that fate from befalling your Ada, at any cost. In those searches, Elrond discerned much that kept us from defeat.” Erestor’s voice failed him and he rose and poured himself a second glass of Miruvor and sat back down.

“What do you mean by any cost?” Elladan whispered in shock. His voice trembled slightly in fear.

“Elladan, remember Elrond was not your Ada then. He was the High King’s Herald, a brave and skilled warrior, and a trusted advisor, who showed talents for the healing arts. He was carrying out his duties to his King. It was an extremely courageous and treacherous undertaking. To be enslaved by Sauron is to endure endless torment to be compelled to do his bidding. The only release is to either somehow cut the means of that enslavement from his hand or …… to swiftly send him to Namo’s care.” Glorfindel whispered, visibly pale.

“Do you still both hold to this oath?” Elrohir demanded.

“Yes, Sauron will not have your Ada.” Both Erestor and Glorfindel replied in earnest.

“Did Naneth know?” Elladan asked.

“Your Naneth knew of your Ada’s burden, but I do not think that she knew about the tasks that the High King assigned his Herald during the war. The more people who know of the three elven rings, the more danger both they and your father and the other bearers are exposed to. In Middle Earth, only the people in this room and the other keepers know for sure.”

“But these seizures, how are they connected?" Elrohir asked.

“When Elrond approached the enemy too closely, he ran into the danger of being detected by them. Your father’s mind is strong. He knows how to build up his defenses - how to camouflage himself and escape detection. He concealed himself in nature and dispersed his power throughout the Elven host. Still, brushing near the Ulairi or worse yet, the dark Lord exposes ones’ spirit directly to their evil, to the black breath mixture of hopelessness, despair, torment, and death. These seizures were the after effects of that darkness invading his spirit.” Glorfindel paused.

“We felt the wave of cold horror dissipate as we connected with Ada.” Elladan said.

“You pulled him towards you with your love. Love, hope, bravery and humility, these are the things that counter the black breath.” Erestor explained.

“But Ada does not undertake such risks now? Alone?" Elrohir worried aloud. They had already lost one parent.

“There is always some risk associated with wielding it that is why it is used in secret. But your father would not expose himself or the valley to danger unnecessarily.” Erestor said thoughtfully. “It is my guess that he must have come upon the danger at Dol Guldor by accident. He unconsciously assesses the security of the valley and perhaps he perceived this evil. The trials of this past year as well as his defense of the valley last week have greatly taxed him, leaving him unusually vulnerable.”

“Should we remove it from his finger? Will that protect him?" Elrohir asked quickly.

“Unless he removes it or it is cut from his finger, it will not release him.” Erestor replied.

“If we have suspicions that the Witch King of Angmar is at Dol Goldur, we must alert Lorien and Mirkwood.” Glorfindel said. “Thranduil has a long history of battling him.”

“I will send a coded letter with our suspicions to the Lord Amdir and King Thranduil.” Erestor said and he left the room.

“Glorfindel how does one fight the Ulairi?” Elladan questioned. The next several hours were spent discussing strategies for detecting and combating the Nazgul. Glorfindel interspersed details of his own personal encounters with this dark enemy.

“We should also discuss strategies for treating exposure to the black breath and perhaps review how to identify the types of Morgul blades.” Erestor added as he reentered the room. “Has there been any change in his condition?” Elladan, who hadn’t stirred from his position next to his father answered.

“No, Adar is still deeply unconscious and has not passed into a sleeping state. Is this to be expected?”

Erestor focused on the memories. “Gil-Galad tended him then and Lord Celeborn as well. There were heated arguments between them. I do not know if he was also unconscious or in a deep sleep. But it was a several day before he emerged from the High King's tent. Afterwards the darkness hung heavily on his heart for many weeks.” He paused making a decision. “We should not allow others to know of your father’s illness.” Glorfindel agreed.

“Yes, but I recommend that one of us remain with him at all times.” He and Erestor exchanged dark looks that again confirmed their oath. “Come you should check on our warriors and the Dunedain in the healing wing. The dwarven contingent will depart in the next few days. They will all attend the dinner in the Hall of Fire tonight. They should not suspect that anything has befallen our Lord.”

“I will stay with Elrond. It would be wise for you both as Lords of Imladris to host dinner in your father’s absence.” Erestor addressed the twins.

“Yes, that would be wise. Come, Elrohir, we should shower and change.” Elladan stood and lead his twin reluctantly from the room.

“Do not fear, I will not leave him until you return. I will send word if his condition changes. Perhaps you should relieve Curin, but post another guard discretely at the end of the hall.” Erestor recommended.

Xxxxxxxxxx

It was midmorning on the next day when Elrond started to stir. Glorfindel was watching over him then and sent word to Erestor when he realized that Elrond would awaken. The twins and Erestor arrived with refreshments and Elrond eyes fluttered open shortly after their arrival. The world spun dreadfully and he shut his eyes again willing it to stop. Someone was speaking in soothing tones, but he couldn’t recognize the language. He felt his head lifted and a cup brought to his lips. He took small sips and slowly his stomach settled but his head still throbbed and it hurt to open his eye to the bright light.

“How do you feel?” The voice asked.

“Fine.” He heard himself reply automatically. Laughter greeted his words.

“Lies are not befitting an Elf Lord.” The voice admonished, so like Elros.

“How do you feel?” An identical voice inquired from the opposite direction.

“Like I’ve been trampled by a horse.” He admitted. “El” he added softy. He opened his eyes but could only make out a fuzzy outline of an elf with dark hair. The figure morphed into Elros then slid back out of focus. Someone lifted his arm and let it go. It fell back to the bed. He was too weak to hold it up.

“You are as weak as a baby.” Teased one, helping him into a sitting position.

“I’ve never seen you so thin.” Teased another before thrusting a piece of lembas into his mouth. “I shall feed you like a baby.” Again Elrond saw his brother Elros before him.

“Elros teased me like that.” He whispered. “Shipbuilding gave him such a muscular build, there was little mistaking us. He was quite proud to be the stronger of us.” Taking advantage of the pause, Elrohir shoved another piece into the open mouth.

“El,” he stopped, puzzling as to which one this could be; however, his thoughts were as blurry as his vision.

“That’s Elrohir.” Glorfindel’s melodic baritone supplied.

“Maybe I should enroll Elladan in Cirdan’s service for a few years. Then I will no longer have to endure being mistaken for one so dull.” Elrohir quipped.

“You would become jealous when the ellith only have eyes for me.” Elladan retorted. A small smile graced Elrond’s face at this sibling rilvalry, happy for this small amount of normalcy. He opened is mouth to chide them frowning as another bite was thrust inside.

“Ha!” squealed Elrohir. “I will have you fattened up in no time.” In a short while the lembas and the rest of the tea were finished.

”Can you see?” Glorfindel asked. He had been sitting quietly, assessing the state of his Lord. Elrond turned his head towards Glorfindel’s voice, grimacing at the dizziness the movement brought.

“You resemble a large glowing ball, my dear Golden Flower.” He said truthfully. “Have you been overindulging on the pastries?”

“It’s good you sense of humor is intact.” Erestor laughed from somewhere beyond his sight. Elrond flinched in surprise.

“Well, we’ve established that you can not see Erestor. That is no great loss.” Glorfindel joked. Erestor gave him a glare in response as he crossed the room and with a cup of Miruvor.

“This should help.” He said, handing the cup to Elladan, who helped his father drink the cordial down. They watched the color gradually return to Elrond’s face and his eyes focus slightly.

“Is there anyone else here that I can not see?” Elrond asked, suddenly serious.

“Just Erestor, your sons and I.” Glorfindel assured him. “Curin is standing guard at the end of the hall with orders to let none pass.”

Elrond nodded. He felt his thoughts drift to the valley and abruptly forced himself to focus on his sons. He looked deeply at each of them, contemplating their knowledge of what had transpired. Then making the decision, he pulled the ring from his finger, letting out an involuntary groan. His sons and Erestor drew in their breaths sharply at the sight of the gold band with the exquisite sapphire stone. Of those now alive, only Glorfindel had ever seen Elrond remove the ring.

“This is Vilya ring of the Air.” Elrond imparted in a hoarse whisper. “It was entrust to me by Ereinion Gil-Galad.” Glorfindel drew near protectively, producing a velvet pouch into which Elrond slipped the ring. Elrond closed the pouch securely before tucking it into the pocket of his tunic. His hands trembled as he withdrew them. Glorfindel grasped them firmly, stilling their trembling. Elrond’s soft voice broke the silence.

“I still need time to recover. ”

“Ada, we weren’t aware of your burden. Again, I am sorry.” Elladan said. Elrond squinted, studying his son closely.

“No more apologies are necessary, Elladan. We have all suffered greatly this past year. I was humbled by your aid yesterday.” His hand fell softly over the pocket where Vilya was contained. “Now that you have knowledge of this. I must warn you that this knowledge puts you at risk. You must never speak of it.” They both nodded their understanding. He looked up at his Seneschal and councilor. “I am sure that Glorfindel has already impressed the reasons for such secrecy on you both.” His voice trailed off weakly.

“Can you share with us what happened?” Erestor asked.

“As you yourself said, united we are strong.” Elladan added. Elrohir simply squeezed Elrond’s hand in support. They all waited in silence for Elrond to speak.

“My mind often wanders over the valley, checking its security.” He explained slowly. “I felt a great evil focused here, but when I went to assess it, I found it did not reside within the Valley. It was surprisingly strong. How it grew to such strength without alerting any of the three, I know not. I was pulled towards it, though I struggled against it.” Elrond’s eyes were dark with the memory and his voice had dropped so low that both Erestor and Glorfindel came closer and sat on the great bed.

“I found my spirit flying towards the forests between Lorien and Mirkwood and soon two dark towers appeared before me. Inside one, sat the Witch King in a large hall addressing three of his lieutenants. They reported on the construction progress, Orc breeding, and plans for future raids. How long I stood there, I am not sure. His underlings departed.” Elrond trembled and fell silent as if it was physically draining to simply relate these memories.

“What happened next?” Glorfindel impelled him to continue, catching his hand and holding his eyes in a piercing gaze that Elrond in his weakened state could not escape.

“Once we were alone in the hall. He became aware of my presence,” Elrond said in a pained whisper. “But he could not see me. His rage was terrible as he blindly tried to strike out at me, sending out piercing blades of ice. One caught me.” His face registered the remembered pain. “It startled me back to myself and I called on Vilya’s power and fled. He tracked me, so close... I focused on a distant destination in an effort to elude him and draw his thoughts away from any Elvin center. I finally evaded him in icy Northern seas. Too cold, drowning….” Elrond shivered. “White and red beacons came to my aid.” He fell silent, held motionless by the strength of Glorfindel’s will, as Erestor too came to assess him. The twins and Erestor watched in amazement as Glorfindel’s inner light grew piercingly bright, surrounding Elrond with a golden glow. After a few minutes, the light dimmed and Glorfindel released Elrond. The eldar peredhil sank limply back onto the pillows in exhaustion.

“He is unharmed. There is no evil remaining.” Glorfindel stated with clear relief. The twins each held one of their father’s hands. Elrond was exhausted but managed a few words.

“The Valar have truly blessed me with precious sons and loyal friends.” Elrond declared in a low voice, relieved to have survived the experience. “Thank you.” Elrohir kissed his brow and Elladan held his hand as he drifted off into healing sleep. His sons were silent, their guilt easily read on their faces.

“After all that he has been through, how can he feel blessed?” Elrohir mumbled in astonishment. The anger that he tried to suppress within him at all that had befallen their Naneth started to color his face.

“To this day, your father’s strength never ceases to amaze me.” Glorfindel said with Erestor nodding in agreement.

“Do not feel guilty.” Erestor told Elladan gently, clearly perceiving his anguish. “It takes time to heal, especially from what your family has suffered. I know that your father wishes to ride out with you to battle orcs. But he is constrained by the oath he has taken to Gil-Galad to protect and preserve that which he has been entrusted with.”

“From the sound of it there will be a steady supply of orcs to battle.” Elladan said grimly.

“Yes” Glorfindel agreed. “Scouts from Lorien and Mirkwood are even now exploring the area your father described. Hopefully, they will be able to determine the strength of the force that resides there.”

“The Witch King has no great love for Mirkwood and he carries a driving hatred towards the Men of Numenor. I am sure that their descendants, will soon feel their wrath.” Erestor predicted.

It was three days later, when Glorfindel knocked on the door to Elrond’s study intent on checking on his friend before his duties took him to the practice field.

“He’s already gone.” Erestors voice came from behind him. “He had an early breakfast and went down to the training fields. He said he wanted to work on regaining his strength away from too many observing eyes.”

“How does he look?” Glorfindel asked.

“Better than in many weeks.” Erestor responded approvingly. By the time Glorfindel got his armor, retrieved his sword, and arrived at the practice field, others were starting to rise for breakfast. To his surprise, Elrond was slowly going through forms with Hadhafang, his father’s sword. His Lord’s grace with the blade was a thing of beauty. Remarkably, it looked as if he had never put down his sword, though it had been years since he had practiced with it.

“Spar with me, my Lord.” Glorfindel said softly. Elrond startled slightly and look up.

“Glorfindel.” Elrond said slowly focusing on him. “ I must confess, I didn’t hear you approach.”

“You were deep in concentration. It’s been a long time since you wished to pick up your sword.”

“I may have need of it soon. I do not want to be caught unprepared.” Elrond explained.

“Foresight?” Glorfindel questioned.

“Caution.” Elrond shrugged and then bowed to Glorfindel. “It would be an honor to spar with you, Golden Flower, although I may not be a challenging opponent in my current state.” Glorfindel returned the bow.

“What state is that, my Lord?”

“Would you have me catalogue my weaknesses for you? I have been better trained than that.” He chuckled.

With a clank of their swords they began. The ease with which Elrond anticipated Glorfindel’s advances and attacks made it quite clear that his skills with the blade were undiminished, although his strength and stamina was obviously effected by recent events. Just ten minutes into the match, he found himself panting with the effort it took to block his opponent’s blows. Twice he had to retreat backwards unable to match Glorfindel’s greater strength. There was no question that Glorfindel could defeat him simply by outlasting him or perhaps by overpowering him. It was only Elrond’s light touch and swift speed that helped him evade the advances and deflect his opponent’s stronger thrusts. But as Elrond started to tire, the advantage flowed decisively to the Golden Warrior. Yet, a wicked twinkle appeared in Elrond’s eye as he turned, thrust and secretly maneuvered Glorfindel deftly around the square.

Glorfindel was confident that he held the advantage as Elrond fell back towards the tree. He had decided that he would make an end to the match rather than risk pushing Elrond to his limits. With all of his strength he thrust to one side then turned swiftly, thinking to take Elrond off-guard and touch his sword to his chest to claim victory. But Elrond had unexpectedly scrambled part way up the trunk and jumped clear over Glorfindel. In a flurry of motion, he proceeded to knock Glorfindel’s knees out from under him and pitch him soundly to the dirt. Elrond brought the blunt face of his sword to Glorfindel’s shoulder. It shook slightly in the winded peredhel's grasp.

“Yield!” Elrond said in his most commanding voice, trying to control his panting while keeping a grin from crossing his face. He knew he would pay for this victory in the near future.

“I do yield.” Glorfindel replied in obvious shock at this unexpected turn of events and released his sword. He was quickly analyzing Elrond’s moves. How had he ended up on his back? He hadn’t expected such an aggressive counterattack from the weary half-elf. Elrond moved his sword from where it blocked Glorfindel and dropped it along side him. Then the tired elf lord extended a hand to help his friend up. But the act of pulling Glorfindel to his feet was in fact too much for him. It was Glorfindel, who upon rising, steadied and eased the half-elf to a sitting position and crouched down beside him.

“I am winded.” Elrond apologized. Someone handed him a drink, which he gratefully accepted.

“Aye, but you have lost none of your skill.” Glorfindel observed. He was oddly happy to have lost.

“Had you not fallen for my ploy, I would not have lasted much longer.” Elrond admitted, shaking his head in frustration.

“It is to be expected given the events of late.” Glorfindel smiled reassuringly.

“Ada, I have never seen such a move! Where did you learn it?” Elladan asked with unabashed amazement. “ You must teach me!”

Elrond looked up, grimacing slightly when he realized that they had acquired a small audience. His sons and a handful of other warriors were looking at him in awe, clearly surprised at the skill their Lord had displayed in besting the Balrog slayer. It was widely known that no one bested the Golden Warrior. Elrond took a deep drink and struggled to control his racing heart and panting breath.

“A loud voice was not the only thing required of the High King’s Herald.” He said with a self-effacing laugh. “Though, truly, I am winded.”

“You should do this more often.” Glorfindel added, his eyes twinkling at the possibility of a rematch. Elrond laughed again. The sound, like musical bells, delighted Glorfindel, who took it as a sign that his friend was recovering well.

“Yes, I would enjoy sparring with you more regularly. It will help me regain my strength and stamina. But,” he added ruefully, “I think you will not fall for that move a second time.”

“No, I will not.” Said Glorfindel firmly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “And the revenge will be sweet.” He added with a flourish. Elrond raised his eyebrow in acceptance of the challenge.

“Well,” Elrond sighed, hoping to deflect the attention from their match, “my sons, I think it is your turn to spar.” Elrohir extended a hand to gently pull his father upright.

“I think you ancient ones must move back a safe distance before we begin.” He ducked when Elrond playfully swipe at his head. Glorfindel moved beside Elrond as they retreated a safe distance and sat down.

“How are you?” Glorfindel inquired in concern.

Elrond was silent a moment as he watched his sons spar. They were equally matched and identically attired, but the tension between them was clear. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Distressed at finding my strength so diminished. I could barely parry your blows, and I believe I will be quite sore tomorrow.” He said with some disdain.

“You should go take a hot bath.” Glorfindel grinned. “Before your muscles stiffen to much.”

“Thank you, healer.” Elrond replied sarcastically. “But I fear that it is already too late for that, and I haven’t watched the twins spar in awhile.” They sat in silence taking in the match until the pair of swords crashed together for a final time. The twins lowered their swords and bowed. Elrohir sighed resigned that yet another tie had occurred and Elladan displayed a look of disappointment. They turned towards Glorfindel and their father and were surprised to see expressions of pride and approval shining from both faces.

“You have both become formidable opponents.” Elrond said approvingly as Elrohir pulled him to his feet. “Come, I think we are all in need of a bath.” They headed up to the bath and the hot pool together.

“Are you planning on leaving today?” Elrond asked once he had finished rinsing the soap from himself and was gingerly easing himself into the heated pool.

“Yes, Ada.” Elladan replied. “We will join the Dunedains and teach them about this new foe. We have taken a supply of Aethalas for them to culture.” Elrond nodded in agreement and closed his eyes for a few moments. Elrohir entered the pool, sitting across from his father, curious as to his well-being.

“Ada, how are you feeling? “ Elrohir asked with some concern. Elladan had thought to head out directly but was held back by his brother's question.

“I am sore,” Elrond admitted wearily. “I will pay for this mornings match tomorrow. But I am well on the way to recovery, I will work on rebuilding my stamina.” He fixed Elrohir with a serious gaze and let down his guard to his mind. “Do not worry, Elrohir, I will be well and back in shape soon. Perhaps we will spar upon your return.” Elrohir smiled, he hadn’t sparred with his father since before he reached his majority.

“That could be very interesting, Adar.”

“Perhaps you could teach us that move!” Elladan exclaimed, climbing into the pool. “From whom did you learn it?”

“Yes, I would be interested in knowing that as well.” Glorfindel said as he slipped discretely into the pool. Elrond smiled slyly.

“Sometimes being a lore-master does come in handy, regardless of how some denigrate such studies.” He caught Elladan’s eyes. “Elros could easily defeat me using his greater strength and enjoyed reveling in each victory. I practiced and searched for new strategies to defeat him. Erestor would practice with me. He found an ancient Quenyan book detailing sword moves. Each morning we would practice a new move. I used that one the first time I came out victorious over Elros. After that I always bested my brother to his great chagrin.” Elrond smiled in remembrance. “Although I never did accepted his challenge to wrestle. One should be aware of one’s limitations.” They laughed.

“Have you used the move on anyone else, but Elros and I?” Glorfindel asked with curiosity.

“Your greater strength today, reminded me of the move. In fact I have only found myself so mismatched in strength at one other time. But that is a story for another time.”

“Ada, is there anything you aren’t interested in reading? I enjoy reading too, but I found it always seemed to be your obsession.” Elladan threw him a pointed glare.

“Obsession?” Elrond stopped for a moment, thinking how to answer his sons truthfully. “I think that is a term more aptly applied to your hunts, my sons.” They both glared at him. “Though perhaps there is some truth in it for me too. I must confess. Our years in Himring were very difficult. Elros and I were singled out - not quite hostages but not part of the Feanorians. We grew faster than they expected, which only served to remind them of our differences. Yet, our lives hung on the good will of Maedhros and the Feanorians. We had no control over our fate. The library and lessons with Maglor were the few places I felt safe. The learning and knowledge aided us greatly when we were finally released and journeyed to an Edain village. From there I journeyed with dwarves to Belegost and then to Mithlond. In any case, after such experiences, I have always had the overwhelming desire to control my own destiny. Something that knowledge can grant. Sometimes obsessions can be turned to good.”

“Hunting orcs?” Glorfindel grunted. Elladan glared at him.

“I do not know exactly when, it could be soon or in several yeni, but I foresee a heir of Elendil rising to lead the battle against Sauron. What is clear to me, is that Elves can no longer be the leaders in this battle, though we will lend all our strength to the battle. I know that you, my sons and I will give Men our aid and will likely fight alongside them.”

“We will readily fight beside the Dunedain.” Elladan declared.

“Elladan, we all are the sums of all of our experiences, and we can not run from them. Just as I cannot escape my past” Elrond continued quietly, his cheeks wet with tears, “can not escape the fact that my twin chose to be counted with a different kindred and that I had to send your Naneth from this world for her to give her a chance at healing. You too can not escape the things that you have seen.”

“We should go, Elrohir.” Elladan exited the pool and quickly drew a towel around him.

“Please, do not go just yet.” He took in a deep breath. “I wish I could help you heal, but it will take time. It will also take you thinking about things not just avoiding these difficult issues. Perhaps it is easier away from here, where you are constantly confronted by memories. That is the reason Arwen stays in Lorien. Healing the rift that has come between you will take more than time.” Elrond opened his eyes and caught Elladan in his powerful sight. “It will take conscious effort and communication. Your special relationship with your twin is worth the effort it takes to keep it strong.” His eyes moved to Elrohir. “One can not simply accept the others’ anger and hide your own. Talk to one another and rebuild your trust, love, and respect for each other. What happened is no one’s fault but the Orcs.” Elrohir looked away from his father’s gaze. Elrohir got out of the pool and quickly dressed. Elrond gingerly stepped out and wrapped himself in a robe.

“We will take our leave father.” Elrohir said. His twin nodded beside him but kept silent.

“Ion-nin, if I could relieve your pain, I would. I can only tell you how I was able to endure up to now. I have surely made many mistakes. I am not infallible. There have been many challenges in my long life.” He drew a deep breath. “But, I have always believed that we each have a melody that is entwined in the music of the One. I try my best to live up to what Eru expects of me - to protect this haven and provide shelter to all who come here. To love and cherish the gifts that he has given me, like time I have been granted to spend with the ones I love. Even though some of those we love are no longer with us, we can rejoice in their memories, happy for the time we were blessed to have together.” Elrond’s voice trembled. “It is what has kept me going all these long years. And never have I been happier than in this age, when I was blessed with time with your Naneth and entrusted with the lives of three such wonderful children.” Tears were streaming now down Elrond’s cheeks. His sons were standing there in thoughtful silence.

“Be well, my sons. I love you.” Elrond said embracing them.

“Be well, Ada.” Each whispered, crushing him into their embrace and they took their leave. Elrond stood watching for a long time after they had gone.

Glorfindel was suddenly beside him, handing him his tunic and leggings. “You are tired Elrond. Let me bring you back to the house.” Elrond dressed slowly, considering his next move.

“I pray they will endure.” He said.

“They are your sons.” Glorfindel chided. “How could they do any less? Come, it is time to rest. You need to recover your strength so I can best you tomorrow.”

Elrond looked up. “I think you may be disappointed as it could be several days before I can challenge you again. But you are correct in one thing, I need some rest. Perhaps I will seek solace in the Mallorn’s company this day.”

“What will people say when they realize their Lord has turned into a Wood Elf? The great Mallorn will rejoice to have you rest within his branches.” Both Glorfindel and Elrond laughed at that thought as they walked up to the gardens.

2511 Third Age

“Sire, there have been no sightings of our enemy, neither men nor elves within two leagues of our fortress.” The captain reaffirmed. He tried but failed to hide his impatience. “Do you have new intelligence to suggest otherwise?”

“Do you wish to hold your post much longer?” The dark King’s voice was deadly in its tone. The seven others at the table pointedly avoided their Lord’s unearthly eyes. “Our stronghold has been breeched by the dark magic of the elves. It will not be long before they send scouts to confirm the suspicions of their mysterious wind spirit.”

“Elven magic here? Carried on the wind?” His Seneschal gawked. “How do we fortify our stronghold to keep out the wind?”

“I defended our stronghold. The wind spirit will not soon forget our encounter. It tasted my blade at least once if not multiple times and must be sorely injured.” The King confirmed. “Now that I am aware of the elves’ power, I will seek ways to guard against them. Our true Master will soon return to us. He will provide guidance to detect those treasures that Celebrimbor has hidden from us.”

“The Master returns?” The Captain repeated. There were only stories of the Master’s greatness. No Man yet lived who had served the master. Unless one believed the stories that the Wraith King had begun his life as a man in Númenor. Stories told that Sauron left what had been a small settlement at Dol Guldur in the year 2060, nearly five hundred years ago.

“He is as displeased as I am that the two elven queens were not delivered here as ordered.” The dark wraith’s eyes flamed. His crown was perched on an eerie silhouette. He had indeed achieved his desires of power and immortality but his physical body had long since decayed. “Your predecessors paid for their mistakes. I trust you will all strive for perfection.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The Captains replied in unison. Only the Seneschal dared speak.

“My King, we watch for signs that the elven realms falter. For although the prisoners were not brought here as planned, neither elf could have survived her injuries. Thus with just two missions we have struck blows at four of the elven kingdoms.”

“Four?” The Witch King inquired. “How do you come by that number?”

“We targeted the ruling families of Mirkwood and Imladris. One of their wives was the daughter of the witch of the Golden Woods, while the other was the daughter of the Avari King. Thus our strikes have hit four of the elven realms. Only the Havens and their ancient capital of Lindon were unaffected.”

“We need not target the Havens. It is in our best interest to persuade elves that their days in this land are numbered and that they should flee over the sea.”

“Spies tell us that the elven King of the Woods is fading. The weak half-elven lord should likewise succumb.” Ozian, the boldest of the captains, intervened. His dark eyes glinted with pride and ambition.

“Ah yes, the High King’s Herald.” The Ulairi King sighed.

“Such ancient history.” The Seneschal commented. “Is it true that his cowardice kept him from ascending to the elven throne?”

“It would be easier to target a single kingdom.” The Wraith King considered. “In the end his decision seems made to thwart us. Our Master would dearly reward any who deliver Elrond half-elven, the King of Mirkwood, Cirdan of the Havens or the Witch of the Golden Woods to him as captives. Other elven toys would also be appreciated for he grows bored with his current prisoners.” He paused for the eager murmurs and nods that met this statement.

“Elves grow old and tired of this world. Their nature is weak and their strength lies in their kin. If we divide and persecute their families we will chip away at their souls and destroy them from the inside.” The Seneschal noted eagerly.

“There remains another task to complete as well. We are charged to purge this world of all in whom runs the blood of Isildur, bane of our Master.” The Wraith turned to Ozian. “Captain Ozian, I charge you in this task. Hunt down the remnants of the Kings of Arnor and destroy any who might carry forth this bloodline.”

“My Lord, there are no remaining Kings of Arnor. They perished many centuries ago. You yourself killed King Eärnur, the last descendent of his nephew Meneldil. Now only the Stewards rule Gondor. Am I to target Gondor?” The captain inquired.

“Our Master is not interested in the line of Stewards. He orders only that any heir of Isildur be destroyed. That line may still exist within the Northern Dúnedain. The Lord of the Havens aided their descendants after I destroyed their city at Fornost. They may still reside in Lindon or in the lands of Eriador or southward towards Enedwaith. Use only men to seek their whereabouts. The Master will not draw undue attention towards Dol Guldur until we have sufficiently rebuilt our forces. His anger is still great at having to leave here when the Istari came to investigate. Nay, he would that we rebuild and strengthen this fortress so that he may return from his hidden palace in the East.”

“I will take great care in scouting out the descendants of the Kings of Arnor.” The Captain bowed in acceptance of the command.

Xxxxxxxxxx Imladris

“Have a good nap my Lord.” Glorfindel chuckled softly and shook his head. Elrond was already nestled, fast asleep within the only Mallorn tree in Imladris. Glorfindel walked up towards the house determinedly. He had arranged to consult with Erestor and Silsilalda before lunch and it was already quite late. Indeed, the pair was already waiting for him in Erestor’s study.

“Is he well?” Silsilalda immediately inquired.

“Well enough to trick and disarm me while sparring.” Glorfindel laughed lightly at the others gaping expressions. “Though seriously, he still needs time and care. He rests now in the safe embrace of the Mallorn.”

“The weather changes. Can it be that the twins have departed?” Erestor asked knowingly. In those times that its bearer had experienced great distress, Vilya reflected it in the weather. It happened very rarely and among those that now resided in the breathtaking valley, only Erestor and Glorfindel were privy to the knowledge that Elrond bore the talisman.

“Unfortunately yes, though with their father’s blessings this time.” Glorfindel informed them.

“But that leaves him alone again.” Silsi frowned. “We should provide care and comfort to ease his burdens.”

“Our Lord has always cared for his own things. He has never taken servants or aides as Lady Celebrían and her parents do.”

“Yet the High King, who was as a father to him, did as does Lord Cirdan and most others of noble lineage. Thus it would not be a totally foreign concept. I detected a new injury to his fëa when I examined him yesterday. It is as if he suffered a wound just below his right shoulder but there were no physical injuries. Do you care to enlighten me as to what happened? Why did you keep him in seclusion for most of the past three days?” Silsi stared at them searchingly. But neither Erestor nor Glorfindel would divulge the origins of these injuries, obtained from the confrontation with the Witch King.

“Fine, keep your secrets. But I expect you to send for me immediately should Elrond suffer any further injury.” She was livid that only Elrohir, a junior healer had cared for Elrond. “It is my duty as the Master Healer of Imladris to care for our Lord.” Both Glorfindel and Erestor looked down in defeat and muttered their acknowledgement. Their acquiescence emboldened the Master Healer.

“However he came by these new injuries, it would not be wise to leave him unprotected again. Many here would be most honored to look after him. The simple comforts of a smile and a breakfast tray upon waking or small talk as a friend combs ones’ hair are a balm to an aching spirit.”

“Celebrían would often comb his hair for him in the evenings.” Glorfindel remembered many times where he had interrupted the pair in the mists of sharing the highlights of their day. They had truly been a close, loving couple. “I pray our dear Lady finds healing in the gardens of Lorien.”

“As do we all.” Erestor whispered.

“Few have the strength to be so separated from their spouse and not fade.” Silsi noted absently. “None that I have known have survived long severed from the presence of all family as Elrond is now.”

“Elrond is strong. He has a noble purpose in remaining in these lands. He will not fade.” Glorfindel stated with certainty.

“I know our Lord is strong and wish only to support him. A routine full of caring friends offers comfort. Indeed it is not lost on me that he returned to the couch in his study the day he was well enough to leave his bed. He grieves yet and these secret battles drain his spirit. We can aid and care for him.”

“You feel you can convince him to do this?” Erestor gaped. He had known Elrond nearly since the shy but enthusiastic youth arrived in Mithlond ready to explore.

“Your expression indicates you already have plans.” Glorfindel’s eyes bored into her but Silsi merely shrugged then smiled enigmatically.

“I foresee that your participation will be required.”

Xxxxxxxxx

Elrond yawned and stretched. It took some time for his eyes to adjust to the brightness and the sympathetic tree moved its branches to filter the light.

“Thank you dear friend for sheltering me.” Elrond spoke in gratitude. The tree’s answering song carried its delight at having the elf near.

“Come back soon.” The tree sang. Elrond climbed down slowly as his sore muscles screamed in protest. The sun had already passed overhead. Once on the ground he drew a centering breath as his vision cleared and expanded. The sounds of the valley filtered through the wind to his ears. The Bruinen was flowing serenely past the Haven. The babbles and joyous reunion of the waters from the two falls could be heard as they came together and flowed southward. The wind carried peaceful reports with no signs of trouble. Most trees whispered contentedly while others marveled over the presence of boisterous bearded beings.

“Ah, the dwarven party is still here.” Elrond remembered.

“My Lord, how are you feeling?” Erestor’s familiar voice was followed by his mocking smile. Elrond's lips curved upward in response.

“What, pray tell, are you planning that you feel the need to address me as your Lord? I do recall your younger sister declaring that I was just a babe in comparison to you.” Elrond’s raised eyebrow caused Erestor to chuckle.

“Ah, the dwarven party is planning to depart tomorrow. I have made arrangements for a dinner in their honor. They expect you to not only to host but to join them in song and drink.”

“Dwarven ale, I presume.” Elrond groaned. To his dismay, ale in any quantity no matter how small meant that he would endure a horrible headache the next morning.

“Come, I have already informed Silsi to mix up some special tea for you for tomorrow.” Erestor laughed and guided his friend towards the family wing. “I hope you do not mind, I took the liberty of arranging for some additional help. Bredeli’s two elflings left for Lorien two years ago.”

“Her sons are far past their majority.” Elrond remember the Teleri elf. Her husband had perished in a border skirmish nearly a yen past. She was a feisty, opinionated elleth; not one of noble descent but one who did not put any stock in nobility and like him treated everyone as an equal. She reminded him much of Laeste, the nurse who had cared for him when he was an elfling in Mithlond.

“I know but the lady has been idle in their absence. Her lack of purpose is putting strain on her relationships with her daughter and her husband. They have an elfling on the way and wish to establish their own household.”

“Her son-in-law, Daintárien, is an apprentice healer.” Elrond mused. “But why are you telling me this?”

“She has decided that we have been remiss in caring for our Lord.” Erestor stopped at the door to Elrond’s room.

“Erestor!” Elrond nearly growled.

“Dinner commences in thirty minutes.” The advisor warned and quickly fled.

“Not much time to spare!” Bredeli announced happily. “I am delighted to help.” She pulled the stunned elf lord into the room, which had been aired in his absence. A set of blue formal robes was already laid out on the bed. Bredeli pushed a bewildered Elrond into the chair in front of the mirror and began to comb out his long hair. The elleth chattered cheerfully, filling the room with sound.

Xxxxxxxxx

Most were already seated when Elrond arrived at the Hall for dinner. Mugs of beer were being distributed and Erestor had seated the dwarven party at the head table. Only his chair remained unoccupied.

“Lord Elrond! Nice for you to join us for a change!” Virfiri’s voice boomed jollily.

“I apologize for my absence for much of this week. I do find Dwarven Company most enjoyable. Please send my greetings to your uncle, King Dáin. We are most fortunate to enjoy the friendship of the dwarves of Ered Engrin. A toast to friendship.” Elrond smiled and raised his mug. Undoubtedly he would regret having drunk ale come morning; but memories of his dear dwarven friend Thainren, now long passed on, called for this toast.

“Here! Here!” The dwarves raised their glass in toast. A dwarven song of thanks to the One for the meal rang out.

“Your sons have been most entertaining in your absence. In fact they gifted me a most interesting travel novel translated into Westron.” Virfiri’s comment almost caused Elrond to choke on the ale. Glorfindel nearly laughed aloud.

“Oh?” Elrond replied warily. As Glorfindel was the lone elf at their table, he safely switched to Khuzdul. Only a handful of elves were familiar with the language and few in the hall were fluent with the exception of Elrond and Erestor. But Glorfindel understood the language well enough even though his spoken vocabulary was filled with colorful expressions to say the least. “I have my suspicions at what my sons would find most interesting.”

“You are quite the enigma, Elrond. I find it hard to fathom that the youthful elf before me graced the halls of Belegost as a child!” Virfiri observed and clapped his son Dori on the back.

“Belegost!” The youth stammered.

“Indeed this youthful lord before you is older than he looks. He has seen much of the history that you are supposed to be studying.” The boy grimaced. History had never been his favorite subject. From what he could recall the ancient city had been mostly destroyed in the War of Wrath.

“Grandfather took me to a few ancient caves that he said had survived from Belegost.” The boy abruptly offered. These sparse examples in the Ered Engrin region stood in testimony to the exquisite craftsmanship of the ancient dwarves.

“Belegost was truly magnificent! It was not only built underground but also had an outer arena with hanging gardens.” Many dwarves at the table were astonished to hear the awe-filled descriptions told by the elven lord. The younger dwarves eagerly absorbed this history. Even young Dori asked question after question. There was little doubt that the Lord of Imladris was truly a friend. Ale and laughter flowed freely as dinner progressed. It was a hearty dwarven meal in honor of their guests. Although Elrond himself steered clear of the sausage laden dishes and chose instead to indulge in the salted fish and hearty breads.

Erestor’s heart rose at the sight of his friend obviously enjoying himself and exchanged smug glances with Glorfindel. They had argued whether cajoling Elrond to join the dinner was wise, for the elven lord was still recovering from the recent trials. Erestor had spoken in favor of seating the dwarven party at the head table, reasoning that the unusual company would distract and entertain their Lord. He also had not forgotten Elrond’s travels among the dwarves of Belegost.

Elrond bid his guests goodnight before the party moved to the Hall of Fire for songs and entertainment. Secretly, Celebrían has also loved dwarven fare and song. Elrond reminisced about how she had teased him with requests for the dwarven drinking song – its lyrics definitely not appropriate for younger ears. His lips curved upward into a small smile at the memory.

“Ale seems to agree with you in the evening.” Silsilalda greeted as she walked over to him. She carried a steaming cup of her ale remedy and noted that Elrond appeared slightly tipsy.

“The morning is always a different story.” Elrond sighed in exasperation. “But I could not easily forgo ale without our guests taking insult.”

“Nay, you could not.” She agreed and followed him into his chambers. He sat down at the mirror and removed the sign of office from his hair. The mithril circlet was a treasured gift from Ereinion.

“Drink up, my Lord.” Silsi ordered as she exchanged the brush in his hand for the mug. She moved behind him unexpectedly and began to unbraid his hair. She smiled at the dawning look on his face as he sipped at the tea.

“It was you who arranged the appointment of my new aide.” He declared. She shrugged and slipped the beads that she removed from the braids into a box on the vanity.

“What gave you that idea?” She smiled enigmatically.

“Trickery is not in Erestor’s nature.” He returned, smiling slightly as she feigned offense. She moved slowly and methodically to comb the thick silken strands. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped his lips and a tear slipped from the corner of the closed eye.

“Sad memories?” She asked quietly.

“Wonderful memories.” He whispered. “Ones I hope will not always remain in the realm of the past.”

“You sent her to Aman for healing. She will be whole and well again.” Silsi stated more firmly than she felt. For Elrond had ridden out to rescue his beloved and had cared and treated her injuries from the first moments of her recovery from the orcs. What Silsi had seen when they returned was only a small part of the horrors dear Celebrían had experienced.

“Yes.” He whispered in a choked voice. “Until then I will take solace in the memories of our joyous times together.”

“And also in the love and friendship of those that remain.” She tried to keep her voice steady as she ran her fingers tenderly through the flowing locks now free of tangles. She whispered a prayer to Eru to keep her own family safe from harm.

“Thank you.” Elrond swallowed the last of the draught.

“Sleep well my friend.” Silsi said as she slipped out the door and headed towards her own chambers, where her husband was waiting. Watching the tragedies of the house of Elrond unfold had strengthened her resolve to treasure her own blessings of a loving spouse and three grown children.

Xxxxxxxxx Several days later

A knock on the door caused Lindir to pause in his song. His smiled slightly at his two students and set his harp in its holder. Then he rose and walked to the door.

“My Lord?” Lindir gaped at the tired countenance of their beloved leader. The normally clear silver eyes held uncertainty.

“Lindir, pardon the interruption.” Elrond said hesitantly. He had obviously not considered that virtuoso would be busy with students. The two younger elves stared at Elrond in awe.

“It is always a delight to see you.” Lindir smiled warmly. His Lord and Lady had always been great benefactors towards the arts. Their time and generosity had helped Lindir build an extensive musical community, which welcomed patrons of the arts from all over Middle Earth. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Some musical request for the Hall of Fire?”

“No, I was hoping to use your skills at sketching.” Elrond paused. Lindir’s hobby of drawing was not as widely known. The bard could capture faces extremely realistically. Currently, more abstract or idealized images were in vogue.

“Of course, my Lord. Would you like to do this soon?”

“Today if possible.”

“I have time in an hour. Shall I bring my supplies to your office? ” Lindir assumed he would be sketching a portrait.

“Yes, thank you.” Elrond smiled, his face returning towards its usual serene expression. “I apologize for the interruption.”

“It is not problem, my Lord. I will see you shortly.” Lindir bowed.

Xxxxxxxx

Elrond sat on the floor in his study. His eyes were closed as he chanted softly, trying to calm and center his thoughts through meditation. An hour had nearly passed and Lindir would appear shortly. The faces from his encounter with the Witch King were in all probability those of the senior members of the enemy forces. Such information could prove useful to the elven security.

“Lord Elrond?” Lindir’s soft voice carried his uncertainty, for the musician had knocked several times already but that action had garnered no response. Elrond startled slightly at his voice but quickly recovered.

“Excuse me, I was trying to mediate and did not hear you.” The room was bathed in the filtered light of the afternoon. Lindir looked around curiously. It was obvious from his Lord’s appearance that he was not going to sit for a portrait. Elrond noted his puzzlement and slowly explained.

“Forgive me for not elaborating earlier, but you were not alone.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Elrond - Lindir – we have known each other a long time. Please call me Elrond. Both Celebrían and I have asked you to on numerous occasions.”

“Yes, my ….. Elrond.” Lindir repeated. “What would you like me to draw?”

“Faces from a vision.” Elrond paused as if contemplating if he should divulge more. “Most unpleasant faces – but perhaps documenting the faces of our enemies might aid us.”

“Faces of our enemies?” Lindir shivered slightly at that thought. “Are they men or orcs?”

“Most are men or were men at one time. The Lord of the Nazgul seems to have a preference for men among his inner circle.”

They sat there for several hours as Elrond described the faces from his vision and Lindir drew. Numerous iterations were necessary. Each one came closer to capturing the likeness of the wraith’s captains. Elrond shut his eyes as the memories of the ring-fueled encounter with the witch king washed over him. Hard cobalt eyes of the wraith’s underling flashed in his mind. His face twisted from that of a man or elf. No, this was some type of orcish figure and almost certainly the Seneschal.

“The chin was slightly more square.” With each detail Elrond’s voice grew more faint. Pain flared in his side, emanating from the site where the Witch King’s icy needle had pierced him. Nausea rolled through him.

“My Lord?” Lindir looked up from his drawings when it registered that his Lord had fallen silent. Elrond’s eyes had an unhealthy glaze.

“Elrond?” He called more loudly, reaching over to touch his hand and nearly gasping at its icy feel. It was then he noted a bluish tint to the lord’s lips and the long pause between breaths.

“My Lord Elrond!” He called loudly as he put his charcoals down and moved behind him.

“Lindir, what is the matter?” Erestor entered abruptly from his office across the hall. He had heard the growing alarm in the bard’s voice. The chief adviser noted the drawings on the table and quickly crossed to his friend. The paper clutched in his grip had the likeness of one Erestor hoped never to see again. Oulined in Elrond's own brush strokes was the silhouette of the Witch King. Grasping Elrond’s cold hands in his own he called loudly.

“Elrond, mellon-nin.” The contact seemed to ease Elrond’s troubled breathing but there was little further response. The adviser turned to the wide-eyed musician. “It is the way of such visions. Help me move him to the floor.” Together Lindir and Erestor eased Elrond to a clear spot on the floor away from any furniture. Erestor covered his friend with a blanket. Then he sat down beside him and gently took one of the cold hands in his own, hoping to be an anchor and support for the half-elf.

“Do not fear Lindir. Elrond will be well. Such visions are not unknown. Go and discretely apprise Mistress Silsilalda about the situation.” The bard hurried away. Erestor turned his full attention to Elrond. He had seen his friend experience a vision several times before. Usually they would last no more than ten minutes but that time passed excruciatingly slowly as he fretted over Elrond’s well being.

Elrond yawned and stretched in the confines of the warm blankets. The comforting, fresh and potent smell of Aethelas wafted around him. He felt strangely disoriented. A wound below his right shoulder throbbed and he moved his hand to cover the expected bandage but found that the skin was undamaged. The room was lit by the gentle glow of a roaring fire, which had obviously recently been tended. He could tell the hour was quite late from the dancing shadows and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He tried to sit up slowly, feeling ill at ease, as he could not recall coming to bed, but the blanket held him to tightly. Recent details seemed as fuzzy as the golden glow next to him. It was then that he realized that he was not alone in his room; the glow solidified into focus and he recognized Glorfindel lying fully clothed on top of the blankets. Movement across the room caught his attention and he felt a warm hand brush his forehead.

“Welcome back to the waking world.” Erestor called softly but it was loud enough to wake Glorfindel, who sat up and slowly assessed his friend.

“What do you remember?” Glorfindel prompted gently stroking the dark head. Elrond was silent and bewildered. Erestor and Glorfindel exchanged worried glances.

“We think you had a vision.” Erestor started off. The pictures of the Ulairi’s Seneschal and captains were extremely detailed. Erestor was sure that the poor bard would suffer nightmares from them. “You were working with Lindir on drawings from your encounter with the Witch King.” Elrond’s eyes snapped close and a wave a pain twisted his features. Glorfindel drew protectively around him. Both of them noted Elrond’s hand had moved to cover the spot where the Nazgul’s needle had pierced him.

“Not quite a vision? Was it something else? More like an attack?” Glorfindel questioned.

“No not an attack but not quite a vision.” Elrond whispered through clenched teeth. There was a long pause before he gathered himself and spoke again. “I was describing the face of their Seneschal to Lindir one minute and in the next moment it seems as if I was eavesdropping on their council meeting. They were discussing the attacks on Celebrian and Lillanlai (Queen of Greenwood). The Nazgul was quite angry that they were not brought to him as planned.” Elrond’s voice shook with horror and Glorfindel pulled him tightly into his embrace.

“They are both safe now. One will find healing in Namo’s quiet halls and the other will find only love and peace in the gardens of Lorien. They will both be healed.” He intoned gently as he stroked the dark head. Erestor too sat down next to them, lending his own support. He could hardly imagine how horrific eavesdropping on such an evil discussion would be.

“A vision came after that?” Erestor prompted gently.

“The overwhelming enemy force descended on a village. My sons were aiding the Dúnedain. But the tide turned against them.” Elrond’s voice cracked. He could not give voice to the ghastly images of death and destruction that followed. Both Glorfindel and Erestor shuddered as realization of the outcome dawned. It was little wonder that after emerging from the vision earlier that day that Elrond collapsed and had been unconscious for many hours.

“Remember visions are only what might be not what will be. Are your bonds to your sons intact?” Erestor ventured. Elrond nodded affirmatively.

“Did you recognize the location?” Glorfindel inquired.

“No.” Elrond grimaced.

“That already narrows the possibilities down. Can you describe the village? Perhaps we can determine where this attack might take place and send reinforcements.” Glorfindel the consummate warrior was already strategizing. They listened intently to Elrond’s descriptions of the village of men in the foothills by snow capped mountains.

“Snow in the mountains,” Glorfindel mused, “could mean any time between now and spring. Were there any details that might indicate the season? Did you note the presence of birds or flowers?” Elrond closed his eyes and recalled the grizzly scene. Body’s lay at unnatural positions on the blood and mud covered ground. His own blood ran cold and his heart nearly stopped as he recognized Elrohir, who was slumped in a deathly pale heap next to Arahad. He struggled to control his breathing and distance himself dispassionately from the view. “It has not yet come to pass.” He reminded himself even as he prayed. “Eru please let this not come to pass.”

“What do you see?” Glorfindel whispered gently. “How far in the future?” Elrond focused. It was nearly as if he stood amidst the fallen. His eyes scanned the village for any sign that would give away when this might occur. A tear slipped from his eye and fell into the pool of liquid at his feet, creating circles that emanated outward from where it struck the surface of the water. He followed the gentle wave unable to look up at the bodies of his beloved sons again. It passed over white oval shapes. He froze momentarily as he recognized the blossoms.

“Snowdrops.” He whispered.

“Snowdrops?” Glorfindel repeated in confusion.

“The white flowers that bloom in mid to late winter?” Erestor clarified softly. Elrond nodded, still shaken by the vision. “Are the trees beginning to bud? Can you hear their songs or the songs of the birds or insects?”

“No, they are still silent.”

“Mid winter, perhaps.” Erestor reasoned. “We can prepare a force to leave a week after Yule.”

“The weather will make travel slow.” Elrond shook the vision from his mind. They could warn the Dúnedain. Such a tragedy would not take place this year, not if he could help it.

“That can not be helped. The mountain passes are already covered with snow and we need a few weeks to prepare ourselves. Do not fear we will still have time to reach any settlement in the foothills of the misty mountains.” Glorfindel assured him.

“If our enemies are emerging again, it is time to expand our elven council to include more of our allies.” Elrond’s voice was stronger now, as he renewed his resolve to do everything within his power to help his sons.

“That would be wise. Few of the elven lords would….” Erestor began.

“Do not leave out Galadriel.” Elrond interrupted.

“Few of the elven rulers,” Erestor amended, “would object to including the Chieftain of the Dúnedain’s in our council. We can also circulate copies of those pictures of the Nazgul's inner circle. Many of them are men and might otherwise be able to move freely among the kingdoms of men.”

“The Istari would also be a wise addition to our alliance.” Glorfindel pointed out. They debated tactics for approaching the other elven realms on this subject, until their dear friend grew tired.

Erestor disappeared for a few moments, reappearing with a steaming mug. Elrond reached gratefully for the hot mug as the cold horror of his vision stilled chilled him deeply. Several sips later found him frowning as he recognized the taste of herbs, which would ensure that he would fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

“Erestor.” He groaned, thrusting the cup away.

“Drink.” Erestor ordered sharply. He had still not overcome his worry at finding Elrond caught in the mists of a vision. “We will try to identify the village in your vision while you rest and recover. We need you strong and healthy.” Glorfindel concurred and they watched until Elrond had drained the cup. Ten minutes later they were smoothing the blankets around the peredhel’s sleeping figure.

“He will want to accompany any force that ventures out.” Erestor predicted.

“As is his right but I would try to convince him otherwise. There is little doubt that the enemy targets the leaders of the elven realms. They will well remember the Herald of the High King. Elrond stands out in a crowd.”

“As do you.” Erestor said pointedly.

“Ah, but the Lord of the Nazgul fled from my mere presence.” Glorfindel laughed then sobered. “Do you have a list of the new villages that the twins have visited? The settlements of the Dúnedain change so rapidly – at least from an elven perspective.”

“The most recent map of their settlements is from Arahad. It is just five years old.”

“That would seem to be our starting point.” Glorfindel suggested and after a last check of their Lord they moved to Erestor’s study.

“It seems only recently that Aragost and his mother left our care to rejoin their father. The settlement they headed to was one in the foothills of the Misty Mountains.”

“The separation from his father was very hard on him. Aragost indicated to me that he would not subject his son to the same upbringing.” Erestor revealed.

“That would seem foolish in light of Elrond’s visions. For childhood is when the sons of men are most vulnerable. But Arahad was never a doting father and I can see his sons’ perspective, although I doubt that living in the same settlement with his father would have brought them any closer. It may have only exasperated the situation. Arahad and Brellina had a stormy relationship."

“The Chieftain is a capable ruler but I fear he has little sense when it comes to caring for a wife and family.” Erestor agreed.

Xxxxxxxxxx Yule in Imladris

The Lord of Imladris was apprehensive, disturbed by the vision of his sons’ demise. Yet they had narrowed down the location in his vision to one of two Dúnedain settlements in the foothills of the misty mountains. Elrond was single-minded as he focused on ways to intercept the enemy force. His new purpose pushed his grief to the back of his mind. Others around him were also distracted by seasonal tasks. The household was extremely busy as they were occupied by both the preparations for the departure of many warriors as well as plans for the Yule festivities. Their Lord was much loved by his people for his kind and gentle heart and many checked after him, knowing how difficult the family-centered celebration of Yule would be for the elf who had always placed his family at the top of his priority list. This was the first year in millennia that their Lord would celebrate the festival of light without his wife or any of his children present.

“Is everything ready?” Lindir asked as he smoothed down his traditional costume. Erestor smiled at the bard’s impatience and turned down the collar, which was sticking up at the back, unbeknown to the singer. The bard had been chosen as the runner this year. It was a special honor, for he would carry in the torch that would be used to light the bonfire, a symbol of the renewal of life and Ilúvatar’s great blessings.

“All is ready. Even our Lord is dressed and waiting for the procession.” Erestor reassured him.

“It is nearly time.” Glorfindel called as he entered. The golden warrior was outfitted in his finest clothing. His flax golden hair was elegantly styled and fastened with pearl-encrusted decorations. “I will fetch Elrond and meet you out front.” He noted the childlike smile that spread across the anxious bard’s face and exchanged an amused look with Erestor. It took only a few minutes to climb the stairs and walk down the hall to Elrond’s room. The door was open and he could see Elrond standing on the terrace. The regal figure was wrapped in burgundy robes and his hair spilled freely down his back.

“Elrond, it is nearly time.” He called and crossed through the sitting room and out to the terrace. He saw Elrond’s hands move up to rub at his eyes, which were shiny with unshed tears. “Any luck contacting your sons?”

“I can tell they are well and uninjured. But I cannot mind speak with them. I suppose their grief and guilt prevents them from noticing my call.” Elrond paused and then admitted softly. “Their auras are still filled with hurt and anger. They do not seem to have reconciled with each other.”

“They need time to accept their Naneth’s departure and to deal with their feelings. Take heart that they are alive and well. We will all pray that the New Year brings them peace. But now, there are many excited young elves and children of men waiting for the festival to begin!” He took gentle hold of Elrond’s arm and guided him out into the hall.

“We can disappoint all those elflings!” Glorfindel smiled brightly.

“Lindir among them.” Elrond laughed. “An elf of a thousand was transformed into an elfling of twenty when I asked him to bear the torch.”

“Happy Yule!” Shrieked a small, enthusiastic elfling as they waded through the sea of people in the courtyard. Parents were trying to hush their elflings and children as they waited in the dark for the Yule festival of light to begin. Elrond stepped up near the pyramid-shaped kindling. So many eyes were watching him, all filled with anticipation, hope, and love. These were his people, with whom he had shared so much. He took a deep breath and began.

“On this night we welcome as one the new light in hope, in friendship, and in love. We remember this night the great gift of light bestowed by Ilúvatar with the first rising of the sun.” The circle parted to allow the torch carrier to pass.

“The sacred fire burns brightly to fuel life.” Lindir smiled in delight as he handed the torch to Elrond. Holding it together, they both touch it to the pyramid, which immediately ignited and burst into a huge flame. The crowd in joined in the chants of praise and worship around the embodiment of the sacred fire of Eru.

Far away Elrohir stood out looking up at the full moon. He left the Dúnedain's celebration abruptly after Aragost had voiced the ancient prayer with perfect pronunciation. A tear slipped down his cheek as memories of Yule, his mother’s favorite holiday washed over him. Ironically, he felt completely alone and separated from his family; although his brother was just inside enjoying the celebration with Arahad. He remembered his father’s wise advice.

“One can not simply accept the others’ anger and hide your own. Talk to one another and rebuild your trust, love, and respect for each other.” But he felt helpless for he had no idea how to begin, how to take the first step towards reconciling with Elladan. Instead they avoided all talk about their family. They spent most of the time together yet somehow it was not so. For he ached deep inside, feeling truly alone and somehow orphaned.

“Naneth, I pray you find healing in Aman. I miss you so much.” He whispered aloud into the star filled night.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The wind was icy and biting although the winter sun warmed the air this morning. Glorfindel knew that that evening would be bitterly cold, but they needed to set out now, especially if they were to reach the two possible sites before the snowdrops' late winter blooms opened. All had been prepared weeks ago. It was a matter of finding a suitable weather to travel down the slick, narrow paths that wound out of Imladris. No, today was the best weather they could expect for this time of year. As he crossed over to the stables to greet Asfaloth, a slim, youthful figure caught his attention. The youth was struggling slightly with his bag and the gate, whose lock was always troublesome on cold days. Elrond’s stallion, Celthúl was snorting impatiently at the elf, who sported an unadorned scout’s outfit. His black hair was twisted into a simple knot. Except for the defined muscles, the slight but tall elf could have passed for one of the twins before their majority.

“Daro (stop) Celthúl, I have an apple for you. Wait but a moment longer.” Elrond’s voice chided. Glorfindel’s mouth gaped open in surprise.

“Elrond? I did not recognize you for a moment.” The Vanya admitted in a stunned voice. Elrond turned to face him.

“Remind me who it is that can not blend in?” Elrond’s eyes twinkled mischievously. It was a look Glorfindel remembered from Ereinion’s young Herald not that of the stately lord of the valley. “It would be unwise for outsiders to realize that Imladris’ Lord has left the valley. Ereinion traveled similarly when his travels might bring him close to enemy territory.” He wore nothing that gave away his status or identity, save for his beautifully crafted blade Hadhafang, which was hidden inside a well-worn leather sheath. A small, light bow of the Galadrium was slung over his shoulder.

“I would rather that you did not come.” Glorfindel stated simply.

“Normally I would follow your advice; however, my sons lives may lie in the balance and my skills at healing could be required. There is no other healer available who has any skill with the sword or bow.” Glorfindel nodded in agreement and together they worked at the frozen lock until the stable door creaked open. Celthúl dashed out of the stables and pranced energetically around the meadow before finally heeding his master’s call and accepting an apple. It took Elrond a few minutes to set a light traveling saddle atop several warm blankets and then secure his small pack. Healing supplies had been distributed among several of the warriors. The other approximately one hundred warriors were also busy readying their steeds. Many were stunned when the elegant chief councilor made a direct line to intercept the new scout, who they later recognized as their Lord, camouflaged among them. Erestor handed Elrond a small tube that protected copies of their most recent maps of the area. Shortly afterwards, Lord Glorfindel gave the signal to depart and they departed the valley, negotiating the narrow winding path in pairs and at times in single file.

Xxxxxxxxx

“We should raise a few tents. It will be another bitter cold night and I, for one, would be grateful for a good night sleep.” Cirulian suggested to Glorfindel. The captain’s eyes wandered over towards the fire where the shivering hooded figure of their beloved peredhel stood talking to a small group of warriors.

“He would not take kindly to being singled out.” Glorfindel returned.

“Ah, but most will rejoice to have a warm space to sleep and we can squeeze eight to ten elves in each tent. Such crowding would provide shared warmth. It will only add twenty minutes to our packing come morning.” Cirulian tried in vain to suppress a shiver. “It is indeed to cold for such travels.”

“It is only out of great necessity. However, your reasoning is sound and I would be most grateful to sleep in a tent tonight.” Glorfindel rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Make the necessary arrangements.” With a slight incline of his head, Cirulian acknowledged the order and left. Glorfindel crossed over to the fire to check up on his friend. They had been traversing rough terrain for much of the past two weeks after checking on the first of two possible sites where the twins might be. Yet Elrond seemed to only grow stronger and more determined. Apart from the effects of the frigid weather, which had always affected the peredhel more strongly than most elves, Elrond appeared as fit and healthy as when he was Herald nearly an age passed.

Xxxxxxxxx Arahad’s hunting party.

“You should not shut your son out. He still needs your advice and support, even now that he is past his majority.” Elladan tried to keep a straight face as his brother wordlessly gifted him sarcastic comments.

“At least Aragost would appreciate Ada’s attention.” He shot back wordlessly to his brother. The twins were prone to argue now. Each had their own difficulties facing their grief and guilt at the shattering of their family.

“He is an adult. He should not need anything more from me.” Arahad returned, for once opening up to the subject. The Dúnedain leader was in an excellent mood after their thrilling hunt, which had netted two fine boars. They were in the process of preparing the animals for transport to back to the village. One of his men had caught three rabbits. In addition, the twins had brought down a deer. All were busy skinning their prey and preparing and curing the meat for transport. Indeed, no part of the animals would be wasted. Even the skin and fur would be used for clothing. The men were singing as they labored around the fire.

“Nonsense, you still keep him at a distance due to your estrangement from Brellina. He is a fine man and you should not take out your disappointment in your marriage bonds on him. He loves you regardless of your relationship to his mother. Neither you nor Brellina will live forever. Gift your son good memories to cherish when you are gone. Bring him on the hunt next time.” Elrohir pleaded. In his heart he thanked Eru that his parents’ marriage had been a happy one. Although the events of redhorn pass now forced an estrangement with their own father, as he and Elladan tried to come to terms with their Mother’s fate. Elrohir watch Arahad struggle to control his emotions. No one had dared broach this subject with the chieftain. Only the sons of Elrond with their nearly legendary status could get away with such impudence.

“Aragost is a capable warrior. We trained him ourselves.” Elladan declared proudly.

“He is excellent company and much enjoys the hunt.” Elrohir added. After a long pause Arahad nodded.

“I will try. Perhaps a hunting trip with my son is indeed in order.” The chieftain agreed softly. Elladan and Elrohir raised their mugs in toast.

“To new beginnings. Never easy but most definitely worthwhile.” Elladan cheered.

“Our chieftain visited us several months ago.” Auristel told the traders. “He has likely returned to Serengred, a settlement not more than five leagues from here.

“Do you think he might be interested in such wares?” Ozian’s voice was deceptively self-effacing. “Your settlements are quite difficult to reach and many people in our caravan would like to return to Gondor to see their families. I would be very thankful for your honest opinion, for we would forgo such a trip if it does not seem beneficial.”

“We are most grateful for your visit here. I know there are many in our village who will buy your wares and many others who would be willing to trade.” One of the other town council members reassured him.

“I know our chieftain quite well. I could point out the types of goods that might interest him.” Another offered. Ozian smiled and turned to his small group of men. All were specially chosen for this mission. This would be much too easy. These unsuspecting Dúnedain would lead him right to Isildur’s heirs. He would pass the information to his orc force, which was waiting on his orders in the Misty Mountains. They would crush the village and leave none alive. Best of all, no one would suspect the true the identities of his covert team and they could use the same ruse again, until they were certain that all those that sprang from Isildur’s bloodline had been destroyed.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

“This is the location from my vision.” Elrond whispered with certainty. “We are nearing their perimeter guard. Signal the others to spread out and scout for orcs. Let us walk our horses for a short spell. We will appear less threatening.” Indeed they were spotted only ten minutes later by the Dúnedain guards.

“Halt!” One of the watchmen called loudly. The three guards had their arrows aimed at Elrond and Glorfindel. “State your business here.” Elrond held his palms up in a universal sign of peace. Celthúl pawed indignantly behind him.

“We come in peace from Rivendell.” He spoke calmly. “We have noted enemy movements in the forests nearby and seek to share this information with your chieftain and his council.” Glorfindel tensed visibly as the men stepped forward to evaluate their claims. The men’s arrows were still notched on their bows. One false move and they might be accidentally fired upon. Elrond appeared slightly shorter, more earthly, and less formidable than the Balrog slayer. The men signaled for Elrond to approach as they kept their arrows pointed suspiciously at Glorfindel. Glorfindel smiled at their misconception. Elrond walked forward holding his hand in clear view, away from any of his weapons. Two more guards jumped down from a nearby tree. One pulled Elrond’s cloak back further from his head to better expose his face.

“You must be from Rivendell. You look much like Elladan and Elrohir.” The first ventured as he lowered his bow, obviously satisfied that the elf before him was related to the twins. His partner sent a series of quick whistles to inform the other watchmen of their encounter.

“They are my cousins.” Elrond smiled warmly. “Are they well?”

“They are out hunting. You found signs of enemies in the forest?” The other quickly questioned already worried about the safety of their chieftain and his hunting party.

“Yes, we have much to report.” Elrond answered simply. He was unwilling to divulge more to the guards.

“How many of you will venture into the village? We have word that you travel in a large group.”

“There are a hundred in our group but we do not wish to arouse suspicions. Some can join your watch while the rest discretely enter the town in pairs.” Their discussion was quickly interrupted by the approach of horses. Aragost and his friend Habert appeared. Their eyes widened as they recognized the travelers.

“My Lord.” Aragost started to say but Glorfindel interrupted.

“Dúclaur,” Glorfindel supplied softly. “My young friend is the twin’s cousin Dúclaur.”

“The forest has ears. It would be unwise for us to speak openly here.” Elrond added by way of explanation. Aragost nodded in silence. He was astonished to see the formidable Lord of Imladris dressed as a simple scout. He motioned for them to follow him. They remounted their steeds and rode single file on the dirt path that wound down to the town. Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged comments via mind speak as they evaluated defensible positions along the route.

“Dúclaur? (Dark splendor)” Elrond’s amusement rang clear in Glorfindel’s mind. “You Vanya have an obsession with hair color.”

“It was what sprang to mind at the moment. Tis better than the somewhat macabre Tinúman, very uplifting ‘spark of a departed spirit’. Who thought up that moniker?” Glorfindel added wordlessly then switched to the matter at hand. “The outcrop on the left could provide good cover for some of our scouts.”

“That is a definite possibility. We should discuss it with Aragost. The name sprang into Ereinion’s mind as he dragged me upon the stage to speak to a conductor. It seemed quite countercultural, most apt for a musician. For years, Ereinion hoped to play in the ensemble but was thwarted by his kingly guise.” Elrond added, smiling at the memory of their clandestine escapades. But then the half-elf abruptly sobered. There was little natural protection available as they emerged from the forest into an expansive nearly flat area. “This is the meadow where the attack will take place. Any strategic insights would be most appreciated.”

“Give me some time to plan our defense. We should also confer with Aragost and see what security protocols are already in place.” Glorfindel mused.

“We will head straight to the central stables. It is nearby our house.” Aragost noted the elves scrutiny of the settlement’s defenses. He fought back a smile as he saw the curious looks that the two Lords from Imladris received from the townspeople. Most had never met an elf other than Elladan and Elrohir. Several boys greeted them at the stables and moved to care for the horses.

“I expect you to behave Celthúl.” Elrond admonished quietly as he stroked the stallion’s head. The horse neighed his dissatisfaction. “I will be back soon to check on you.”

“Celthúl?” The boy repeated carefully as he tried his best not to stare at the beautiful being before him.

“Aye, he rides as the wind.” Elrond explained. “He is high spirited to say the least.” Celthúl pranced in agreement.

“Lord Elladan and Elrohir celebrated Yule with us. Are you their brother?” The child questioned.

“Did they indeed! You must promise to tell me about it later.” There was little need to answer the boy’s question because the youth’s jaw fell open as he spied the imposing golden figure of Glorfindel. Elrond saw Glorfindel swipe at Aragost’s shoulder and assumed he missed some disparaging remark from the sarcastic young Dúnedain.

“Adrick, thank you for caring for the elves horses. Can you inform your father that we will need to assemble the council this evening?” Aragost asked before leading his guests out of the stables and towards a log cabin nearby. A women with blond hair streaked with gray was working at the garden. She gasped when she caught sight of them and ran over to Elrond, engulfing him in a bear hug.

“Elrond, I am so sorry for your loss.” Arahad’s wife Brellina and her son had spent nearly ten years living in the last homely house and both had known Celebrian quite well. Elrond stiffened as his grief momentarily overwhelmed him but he returned the embrace as he again gained the upper hand over his emotions.

“Thank you.” He managed to whisper. Aragost led them all into the house. Where the next few hours were spent discussing methods to secure the populace from the coming attack.

Xxxxxxxx

“The settlement is similar in size to this one.” Ozian warned as he handed the map to the aide. “Tell the Orcs to guide our force down from the mountains. They should leave no survivors.”

“Yes Captain, I will carry out your orders. But would you not rather lead the war party yourself?”

“Our orcs outnumber the village men nearly two to one. This should not be a question of skill. I will lead our party to inspect the site several days later. Our naïve guides will serve to identify the bodies of their Chieftain and his son.”

Xxxxxxxx

“These men could pass as Dúnedain!” Aragost exclaimed in worry as he took in the sketches.

“Their ancestors may indeed have been refuges from Númenor.” Elrond mused. “Elladan has told me how tight-knit your community is here. I doubt they could infiltrate your settlement so easily. It would more likely be someone new seeking refuge.”

“But that is a second problem. You can focus on that once we have successfully defended the settlement against this orc force.” Glorfindel wisely noted.

“Your plans are sound.” Aragost said. “Will you present it to our council?”

“Perhaps Glorfindel will.” Elrond said. “It would be unwise to draw yet more attention to this settlement by announcing my presence. I will go speak with the healers here and as Dúclaur, I will offer our supplies and my expertise.” A knock interrupted their discussion. Aragost greeted his father’s councilors. Elrond made to leave but Glorfindel interrupted him.

“Dúclaur, gather Amatheir and Taral and offer your services to the healers here. See if we can readily set up a triage center in a more protected location.” Glorfindel announced authoritatively. He had a hard time hiding his amusement as Elrond’s pure laughter sounded in his mind. The peredhel’s face betrayed nothing of his feelings. Indeed, his voice had the perfect blend of deference and the slight uncertainty of a young recruit. Aragost marveled at this previously unknown side to the Imladris Lord.

“As you wish my Lord.” Elrond bowed slightly and turned to depart.

“One last thing Dúclaur. Make sure you carry your sword with you. We know not how much warning there will before the enemy attack.” The entering councilors gasped slightly, their attention swiftly drawn to the Golden Lord.

“You are enjoying this far too much.” The peredhel added wordlessly.

“I would much rather that you were safe in Imladris.” Glorfindel spoke mind-to-mind.

"You never did detect any of Celebrian and my escapades." Elrond returned, his face blank, although Glorfindel chuckled slightly. The men looked on in confusion half wondering if elves could communicate without words.

"Any luck contacting the twins?" Glorfindel sobered.

“My sons are near but I can still not speak with them. I fear they may have already encountered our enemy.”

“You can not know that. Follow my orders and organize the healers.” Glorfindel smiled as Elrond bowed low and departed.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Arahad and his hunting party increasingly found signs of an enemy presence within the forest. All were agitated and worried for the well-being of their families in the village.

“We should return quickly.” Arahad ordered. For the first time in his life he feared for the fate of his wife, Brellina. He was not an easy man to live with and he spent much time out in the wild - partly, if he admitted to himself, to avoid her. Their emotional estrangement had evolved gradually, but he knew he was more to blame. He sent a prayer to the One that he would have a chance to reconcile with her.

“From these footprints it looks as if they number over a hundred.” Elladan reported. He feared that they would be hard pressed to defend the village against such numbers.

“And there are not only orcs but men as well.” Elrohir added as he stooped to examine the tracks more carefully.

“Let us turn east. If we make haste we may be able to reach the village before them.” Neither Arahad nor the other hunters liked the idea of discarding their hard earned food, but the excess weight and unwieldy bulk would slow them down. Haste was necessary.

“The perimeter guard is but half a league from the village center.” Arahad mused. “Their warnings will not give Aragost much time to organize a defensive force while moving the women and children to safety.

“Trust in your son’s abilities. We will be there shortly to aid him.” Elladan remarked, for there was no use worrying. They could only deal with the situation that confronted them upon arrival.

Xxxxxxxx

Although the elven scouts returned with reports detailing the advance of their foes, nothing could prepare them for the wild cries that rang out as the enemy swarm down upon them. Together they had designed the best defense possible given only several days of intense preparations. Indeed, prompted by comments from Elrond and Glorfindel, Aragost had come up with the ingenious idea of trip lines and hidden fences, which slowed the enemies advanced and enabled archers to take down a significant number of their foes from the safety of the trees. Yet, the sheer number of the enemy host overwhelmed these makeshift barriers, for the orcs merely clamored across their dead comrades. All too soon the alliance of men and elves were forced into hand-to-hand combat. Aragost fought next to Imladris’ Lord, who was still garbed as a simple warrior. But young Dúnedain knew this was not the case. Still it was amazing to witness the precision and ease with which Elrond cut down their foes, for he had only seen the elder peredhel in his staid roles as a healer and an administrator. Elrond, Cirulian, and Glorfindel relayed orders to the elven warriors, repositioning their guard into a more effective defensive circle. Aragost followed their lead and directed his men accordingly. The elves’ goals were to protect the women and children and to shield Isildur’s current heir, Aragost, from harm. Elrond’s heart froze in the middle of this horror as he felt pain pass down his torso. No enemy had breached his defenses and he realized that the pain he felt was not his own. He followed the invisible bonds that tied him to his sons and was able to discern that they were engaging the enemy from the rear.

“What’s wrong?” Glorfindel hissed as he dispatched another foe.

“My sons are here. One is gravely injured. Follow me.” Elrond motioned a small contingent forward, taking up the point position himself, much to Glorfindel’s dismay. Grinding his teeth together with stiffening resolve, he called for a charge and they broke through the tide of orcs and easterners, heading on a direct line for his sons. Cirulian fell in step beside his Lord, having recognized the wild glint in the peredhel’s eyes. The Teleri guard had befriended Earendil’s son late in the first age. So many years had the three warriors worked together, that it was not surprising that they could anticipate each other’s responses.

Xxxxxxxx

Arahad gasped as the two orcs in front of him charged. He would not be in time to block the blow. But somehow Eru had granted him a reprieve, as Elrohir came from nowhere to parry the strike. But they were outnumbered. Their end would come soon and as if to confirm the Dúnedain’s thoughts, Elrohir stumbled as an orc sword cut through his tunic. The younger son of Elrond fell at his feet as the enemy swarmed forward. The two orcs converged on Arahad laughing darkly as his sword caught on theirs and was pulled from his hands as he tripped over Elrohir’s limp figure. Then as if in slow motion Arahad could see the mortal blow coming, but it never connected. Instead the orc’s eyes flung wide in shock as a jeweled dagger impaled it in the heart. The glint of a sword flashed so close to Arahad’s head that he could follow the flowing pattern of the elvish script.

“Roll behind me.” Elrond barked as he, Cirulian, and Glorfindel stepped up to protect the two fallen warriors.

“Adar!” Elladan exclaimed in surprise.

“On your left.” Elrond warned in clipped tones as he cut down another foe. His son reacted instantly to counter an enemy blow.

“Elrohir.” Elladan called brokenly. He could feel his brother’s lifeblood leaking through their twin bond. “Adar you must tend him! You must not delay.” Elrond exchanged pointed glances with Glorfindel, who proceeded to bark out orders and form a circle of elven guards around them. Arahad had already regained his footing but lacked a weapon. Elrond made a split decision and turned to the Dúnedain chieftain.

“Take my sword. I must see to my son.” A second later Elrond was bending over Elrohir. His heartbeat frantically within his chest as the vision flashed in his mind. Elrohir lay in an identical position to what he had foreseen. Almost by reflex he ripped strips from his cloak and moved to bind the gaping wound that bleed profusely across his son’s chest. Elrohir was already unconscious from blood loss. Elrond sought to stem the flow enough to transport his son to safety. A second wave of Imladris’ guard followed their Lord’s path across what had been the field surrounding the village. They plunged through the enemy line successfully dividing it in half. Elrond quickly traversed this safe passage, clutching Elrohir tightly to his chest. His son was slightly larger in stature than him, but adrenaline enhanced his strength. The peredhel had little memory of crossing into the safety zone and entering one of the houses where they had stock piled healing supplies. He had no idea that Glorfindel had in one short motion ordered Cirulian, Amatheir, and Taral to follow and protect their Lord. The three veteran warriors efficiently organized a protective shell of elves around the healer’s compound. Oblivious to all this, Elrond focused on stemming the flow of blood and suturing the foot long gash along his son’s torso.

More wounded were transferred to the healers as outside the battle raged, but the spearhead maneuver through the enemy lines had turned the tide in favor of the joint elven and Dúnedain force. Only twice did the enemy succeed in breaking through the protective line and only a handful of enemy warriors broken into the circle protecting the women and children. These foes were quickly and efficiently brought down Dúnedain women with their deadly archery skills. As the enemy fell steadily, some turned to flee. Aragost and Glorfindel coordinated efforts tracked them down. This would be one battle where the dark forces would be truly routed. A battle that would see no enemy survive and send a decisive message that the Dúnedain were not a force to be trifled with.

Moans punctuated the end of the battle, leaving in its wake a macabre scene as men and elves moved together to scan the ground for their injured and dead. Orc corpses were piled in the center of the meadow for burning. Elves were assigned to the exterior search parties as their better eyesight aided the identification in what had become a dark night.

“Aragost!” Arahad embraced his son with love and much relief. “I had feared the worst.”

“It might have come to pass had the elves from Imladris not arrived when they did.” Aragost returned his father’s embrace with enthusiasm.

“Fortune was with us as we had the grandsons of a star on our side.” Arahad threw his arm around Elladan.

“We need help moving the injured, and we must check on the families. I arranged for all the women, children, and infirm to take shelter in the inner circle of houses. We erected barriers as time allowed.”

“I will check on them.” Elladan pulled Habert aside and they hurried away. They noted nearly ten fallen foes near the barriers. Women cheered upon seeing them and lowered their bows.

“Lord Elladan, we have injured.” Irena called as she embraced her son, Habert, while leading them onward. “Thank god you are alive.” Elladan drew near three of the injured women, efficiently assessing their hurts. The worst injury was a heavily bleeding from thigh wound. Two others had deep cuts on their arms.

“Habert! Bring some strips of cloth.” The youth dashed over immediately. Elladan focused on staunching the flow of blood, tying makeshift tourniquets around the wounds.

“We need to get them to the healing tents. These wounds will need to be wash and stitched. Do not fear. You will all be well.” He said soothingly, now noticing the bows and empty quivers beside them. “You were very brave in your defense of others.”

“Brellina! Elladan called numbly, only now turning to take in the identities of his patients. “Let me help you. Habert we need to transport Serina and Isabel to the healer too. ” He gently lifted Brellina and hurried towards the triage center. Glorfindel met up with them on the way.

“Lady Brellina!” Wusteir, the Dúnedain healer, intercepted the three as they crossed into his domain. “Come, I will treat her forthwith.” Elladan followed the shorter man and gently lay Brellina down in the space he indicated.

“Master Dúclaur is inside with your brother.” Elladan stared at him in confusion. The healer paused as realization of Dúclaur's identity dawned on him. He had none other than the great healer of Imladris among his healing staff. “Your father?” But Glorfindel motioned for him to keep silent. The healer shrugged uncertainly.

“It is the first room on the left. Go and see if he needs anything. Then I beg you come back and aid us. We are very shorthanded.” Elladan paled as he felt how frighteningly weak the bond to his brother had become.

“Come elfling.” Glorfindel pulled him to his feet and guided him inside. They wove their way around the injured and finally stepped through a short doorway into a small room, where Elrond was still suturing the gash. Elladan froze at the sight as much blood still covered his brother’s chest.

“How may I help?” Glorfindel bent automatically and retrieved a cloth that Elrond had been using to wipe away the blood from the sutures. He assisted for the last part of the surgery, until finally Elrond finished and sat back, resting for a moment before he again assessed whether the sutures would hold. Then the healer laid his hand on his son’s forehead and concentrated, using his unique healing gifts to evaluate Elrohir’s spirit. He could feel the heartbeat beneath his fingertips slowing as life ebbed away. The grim realization dawned that this was beyond his ability to heal.

“Adar is there hope?” Elladan trembled as he saw tears slip from his father’s eyes. His whisper interrupted Elrond’s thoughts. Steely silver eyes met his with renewed determination.

“Shield us from view.” Elrond gruffly ordered. Glorfindel stood and in one fluid movement had removed his cloak. Elladan took hold of one end and they backed up to the doorway, easily obscuring Elrond and his patient from prying eyes. They both held their breath as they watched Elrond call upon his inner strength and healing gifts that were surely some remnant of their ancestor, Melian. Elladan watched as the golden glow passed from his Adar’s hands into his brother. The glow changed to an azure aura and he heard his father groan in pain.

‘Elrohir stay with us, dear one.” Elrond called to his son’s spirit. “Please, I know this life has its share of grief and pain but there is still joy to experience here. Please stay with us.” The light faded as Elrond collapsed backwards. Elladan dropped his hold on the cloak and hurried over to his father, hugging him tightly.

“Ada.” He called softly. It took several minutes for Elrond to respond, such was the strength required to direct Vilya’s powers. In fact the healer's first response was not in words but in deeds. He grasped Elladan’s hand and joined it to Elrohir’s. Elladan nodded having understood the meaning of the gesture.

“Stay close to your brother. He needs your strength and love. Your connection can even overcome the misunderstandings and guilt of these difficult two years. Nothing matters now accept your love for each other. His spirit wanders but remains near. I think he will hearken to you.”

“Will he be alright?” The words sounded more like a plea from Elladan’s lips.

“I pray he will be. The next few days will tell.” Elrond kissed his son’s head and stood shakily. Glorfindel hurried over.

“You should rest.” The Vanya advised.

“I will soon but first I must see if others need my aid.” Elrond stretched slightly and gave Elladan’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Wusteir needs help. He begged me to return.” Elladan said as he moved to rise. But his father’s grip on his shoulder prevented him.

“Your brother needs you as a reminder, an anchor, to keep him tied to this world. Your twin bond is strong. Stay. I will aid the other healers.” Elrond pulled off his blood soaked tunic and moved to find a replacement. “I will be back as soon as I can. Do not hesitate to send for me.”

Xxxxxxxxx

Voices woke Elladan, who was still gently cradling his twin’s hand in his own. Morning light filtered in through the small window. He startled for a second but calmed as he felt his twin's stead albeit weak heartbeat.

“Thank you Elrond.” Came Arahad’s tired voice from the outer room. He was too tired notice his slip.

“She will be well given time and care.” His father’s voice was strained and weak. There was a pause and then Elrond continued. “Fear not you have time to resolve your differences with her.”

“You say that so easily – you who have lived a thousand lives and who is oh, so perfect.” Arahad sounded suddenly vehement. Elladan took offense at the tone.

“I am far from perfect.” Elrond continued calmly. “But I do know that the time we are blessed to share with our loved ones is precious. It is difficult, but put aside your fear and guilt and focus on the things you have in common. These things are never easy. Marriage is something you must forever work at. But the fruits of those efforts are worth it.”

“Time is precious.” Arahad repeated. “That does not sound like an immortal elf.”

“I am but a peredhel.” His father sighed softly. The tone of his voice had a melancholy ring. “And a very tired one at that.”

“Go rest before you fall down.” Arahad’s footsteps could be heard and a door creaked open. The man muttered a soft prayer as he exited. “Thank Eru for your timely arrival.” A few minutes later his father stopped at the doorway. The elder peredhel was clothed in the healing garb of men, his hair drawn back into a single braid. Pronounced dark circles under his eyes added to the appearance of being more man than elf. Elladan could see apprehension - nay fear, in his father’s bloodshot eyes.

“How can I tell him that Elrohir’s condition has not improved?” Elladan felt guilty that he had not called his father to check on Elrohir earlier, for it was clear that the elder elf needed rest. “But I can feel Elrohir’s spirit near and his condition has not deteriorated. Ada gives so much of himself to aid others.”

“Do not worry Ada. His heartbeat is steady. I have been singing and calling to him. Come rest. I will wake you if you are needed.” He motioned to his father, and made room for him on the floor. Elrond sank down next to his son in exhaustion. “I have not properly thanked you for your timely arrival.” Elrond mumbled something incoherent and fell immediately into sleep. Elladan kept close eye on his family. He checked and changed Elrohir’s bandage. Only a small area at the bottom of the gash needed several additional sutures. He slathered on a healing salve over the sutures to ward off infection and wrapped the wound with fresh coverings. Then he moved to his father, who’s left hand had unconsciously tangled in Elrohir’s right. He father was perspiring and mumbling incoherently in his dreams. Elladan laid his hand on Elrond’s head and concentrated, hoping to ward away his father’s nightmares. He was shocked when the barrier between their minds slipped and he found himself sitting on a bed, staring out at a row of people. A beautiful silver queen and a regal figure, which could only be that of the High King, Ereinion Gil-Galad, looked at him in love and concern. Confusion reigned for a moment until he realized that this was Elrond’s dream and he was seeing things from his father’s perspective. He felt his father’s heartache, deep loneliness, and uncertainty. Nay, this depth of despair stemmed from a great loss. Today’s battle and Elrohir’s injuries must have reminded Elrond of the loss of his brother Elros. The dream Gil-Galad and Indiriel drew closer – embracing him – or really his father.

“Elrond.” Indiriel voice carried compassion and unconditional love. “We have been so worried about you. You will always be a part of our hearts.” She leaned over to kiss him as Ereinion squeezed him closer.

“We are so sorry for your loss, Elrond.” Ereinion said. “I know your heart must feel alone. But believe me when I say that you will never truly be alone. You have many who love you both here, in Valinor, and now even beyond the circles of this world.” Elrond drew in a ragged breath still clutching his heart and he looked around the room. There smiling comfortingly at him were Laeste, Cirdan, Erestor, Glorfindel, Calimdriel, Merwen, Celeborn and Galadriel. It was his King and Queen that held him gently.

The scene faded and Elladan found himself at what could only be a wedding. He was intently observing the musicians, who sat next to a white gazebo. The wind instruments were similar: both had a reed mouthpiece on a wooden tube and multiple finger holes differing only in the length of the tube. The women beside him leaned over and told him they were named chalumeaus. His father was obviously enthralled by their deep rich tones.

A regal wood elf turned towards him. The power that emanated from the dark figure rippled through him and he instinctively knew this was one of the Avari from the first awakening on the shores of Cuiviénen. Elrond bowed low to this elusive figure.

“Herutaurë – (Lord of the forest)” his father stuttered slightly, his voice much higher that what Elladan was used to as if his father was still in early adolescence.

“Greetings Elrond Eärendilion, heir of Elu Thingol. When it is time, seek me in the forest and I will teach you its secrets.” With no further explanation the Elf turned and faded into the mists. When the view cleared. He was sitting by a lake looking into the water. His father’s anguished face, which was slightly more rounded in his youth, stared sorrowfully up at him. A new ghostly face hovered beside his father’s image. It resembled Elrond’s but was fuller and sported a well kept beard. The wavy short hairstyle stood out in contrast to Elrond’s flowing locks. Elladan knew this was his uncle Elros’ image. Then strangely enough, his reflection appeared suddenly beside the two and the haunting voice of the forest lord echoes around them.

“You will never be alone. The love of the One will fill the voids in your heart with the music of the Ainur. You carry within you the song of the Maiar. Listen and you will find these songs in the trees and wind. The world around you will embrace and rejuvenate your spirit.” Then the forest lord turned and looked Elladan in the eye.

“Elladan, you can also hear the music. You will never be alone as long as you listen for it.” The dreams faded and Elladan found himself staring down at his sleeping father. Surely he had imagined that the Herutaurë was talking directly to him. These were his father’s dreams, his father’s memories, were they not? But the blessed music seemed to fill his head, music that flowed directly from the connection with his father. The melody swelled with joy and healing, surrounding Melian’s three peredhil descendants. Elladan had no idea how long he sat entranced by the wonderfully diverse strains of the song. A warm hand on his brow brought him back to the present and he found himself staring into concerned blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” Glorfindel asked softly. Long shadows filled the room from light seeping in through a small window.

“How long?” Elladan’s voice cracked from lack of use. He sat up slowly.

“I came an hour or so before lunch to check on you. It is early afternoon now, although the sky is overcast and there may be snow by morning. We must make sure all the injured are housed and secure.” Glorfindel reported then appeared to pause in consideration before venturing into delicate topics. “Your brother seems slightly stronger. But I am no healer.” Elladan leaned over to assess his brother and confirmed Glorfindel’s opinion. He could detect a small improvement in his brother’s heartbeat. It was then that Elladan noticed they were not alone. Cirulian stood in the corner near the door as if on guard.

“Penneth (young one), you did not expect me to leave my lord and his heirs unguarded? Your father gave much of himself in tending to your brother as well as a host of other injured. You have been unaware for several hours.” The Teleri held back a smile at the peredhel’s grimace – like father like son, so it seemed.

“He should rest at least until tomorrow but that is most unlikely.” Glorfindel was not surprised to find his lord deep in healing sleep. Perhaps Elrond would be able to catch four hours of sleep. Not nearly enough after the battle and an exhausting night of hurried surgeries.

“Our warriors who shadowed his movements were themselves exhausted. Why does this settlement have so few healers?” Cirulian sighed in exasperation. In fact only Elrond and Wusteir were ‘Master’ healers. Six others who assisted them had various degrees of training. Indeed, the three elven warriors with healing training were better prepared than the three assistant healers of men.

“All those that possess any training in the healing arts are assisting Wusteir. But the human healer will have to rest soon. He will send for ‘Master Dúclaur’ then to make sure that a senior healer is available. Make sure no one wakes him before.”

“I find it most challenging to protect him in a village of men.” Cirulian nearly snorted.

“That is without mentioning his audacious dash through the orc line.” Glorfindel returned.

“How did you know to come here?” Elladan had trouble keeping up with the conversation.

“Your Adar had a vision.” Glorfindel explained. “But this is neither the time or place to discuss such things. Come we should meet with Arahad and Aragost. There is much to discuss.”

“Why do you need me?” Elladan was unable to keep the astonishment from his voice. Glorfindel lowered his voice to a volume that Elladan could barely hear.

“The Dúnedain put great faith in you and your brother. You are your father’s rightful heir.” He studied his Lord for a few moments. All noted the faint glow that flowed from Elrond into his injured son. Glorfindel did not miss the soft glow, which pervaded Elladan’s aura as well a sign of Elrond's healing gifts. “Your father has rightly chosen to place his healing duties above all else at this time. These other tasks fall to you.”

“You will protect our Ernil (prince)?” Glorfindel turned to Cirulian who bowed solemnly, his hand spread over his heart signifying his solemn oath.

“Aye I will. No matter what he chooses to call himself.” Cirulian whispered.

“He was most amused by the name I gave him.” Glorfindel smiled deviously.

“Why do you think of him so?” Elladan eyes widened as he considered his father’s worth to these two ancient warriors. For his father had ever been the humble, unassuming healer. He and Elrohir had vehemently disagreed with their father’s more conservative ‘wait and see’ approach.

“You shared some of your father’s thoughts and partook of his healing strength. What did you hear?” Glorfindel smiled knowingly.

“I heard music and felt his healing strength. He believes it to be the music of the Ainur and the Maiar song, so great is his faith.” Elladan whispered, half wishing that he could throw away his doubts and resolve to listen to the song and to try to find his own melody in the great music. He father strove to do whatever the One asked of him.

“And you do not believe that.” Cirulian whispered.

“It seems very naïve and childish given all that has happened. I do not know what to believe.” Elladan admitted.

“Think of who you name childish and naïve.” Glorfindel returned thoughtfully. It was more than obvious where he stood on this issue.

“People’s opinions are black and white when it comes to my father. They either adore him or despise him for his mixed heritage.”

“Either way all give him their respect.” Glorfindel added.

“Please tell me that no one extended such hatred to you.” Cirulian studied his Lord’s son carefully.

“And offend the grandsons of the Lady of Light? No, never openly, I guess his children are accepted as elves.” Elladan looked back at his father, suddenly realizing how lucky they had been to be raised in such a tolerant haven.

“Come elf man, we have much work to do.” Glorfindel pulled him upright.

“Amatheir and Taral will watch Elrohir while I shadow Master Dúclaur on his rounds.” Cirulian informed them as he handed Glorfindel the small tube that protected their maps and Lindir’s sketches.

Glorfindel and Elladan walked out through the living room, which was crowded with the wounded sleeping on makeshift platforms.

“They moved all the injured.” Elladan said in amazement, as the stepped out into the morning. The air was crisp and a light dusting of snow had fallen.

“We also constructed pallets for them. There are six houses packed with the injured. It is too cold for even injured elves to be exposed to the elements.” Glorfindel explained. “We swept the area and are only beginning to pile the corpses of the enemy in the west end of the field. There were several men among the enemy troops. We have set them apart in hope that they might be identified.” They moved quickly around the field and Glorfindel updated Elladan on their progress.

“Should not Dúclaur be among those who make the decisions here?” Elladan was surprised to see his father defer to himself and Glorfindel.

“His skills for healing take precedence now. You may find yourself drafted into healing duties later too. Dúclaur and Wusteir are the only master healers here. In addition, we brought five warriors with varying degrees of healing training. The villagers who are aiding their healer seem to have very little training. Dúclaur is nearly at his wits end trying to care for the wounded and train these helpers. But let us attend to the matter at hand. You and Arahad need to see these sketches of the enemy captains.”

“Sketches of the enemy?” Elladan shivered slightly then remembered. “You said Adar had a vision.”

“Several in fact.” Glorfindel corrected. “He foresaw the attack some two weeks before Yule. But without elven reinforcements, the battle had quite a different ending.”

“Adar foresaw our deaths?” Elladan whispered in horror. Glorfindel nodded unable to express the fear that had hung over them for the past month.

“Elfling, words can not describe how wonderful it is to see you. We focused on finding this location and on organizing warriors to prevent such a tragedy. You and your brother and the people in this village must play a pivotal role in the future. It is not often that the Valar grant such a warning.” Glorfindel squeezed Elladan’s shoulder lightly. They had arrived at Arahad’s house.

“Elladan! Glorfindel! Come in.” Aragost greeted them. “My father is just changing. We brought my Mother back from the healers.”

“How is she?” Elladan was immediately concerned.

“She is sleeping.” He paused to acknowledge they were indeed alone. “Your father said she would have difficulty for the next month until her leg healed. After that she would need special exercises to rehabilitate the leg. But he thought it would heal completely and she would regain full function.”

“That is indeed great news.” Glorfindel and Elladan rejoiced.

“Has everyone arrived?” Arahad called down to them.

“No, father. It is only Elladan and Glorfindel so far.” Aragost’s reply was nearly drowned out by a knock at the door. Many of the settlement’s council arrived and they settled around the kitchen table. Aragost and approximately half the council had already been briefed on the Nazgul’s captains, but Elladan, Arahad, and the rest of the hunting party gasped in shock at the sketches.

“They look like Dúnedain!” Arahad was deeply troubled. “They certainly may have visited some of our settlements without drawing any suspicion. Some inquiries in a pub and with little detective work they would have been able to locate us.”

“Perhaps that is why we have heard no other attacks at our settlements. With a little spying they could have readily found out where our chieftain resided.” Aragost reasoned then exclaimed in worry. “Father, you were their target.”

“You were likely also their target, Aragost. I think that their objective is to wipe out all of Isildur’s heirs.” Glorfindel mused. “But their defeat here should send a clear message that we are now aware and will take precautions. Lord Elrond sent a message to remember that you will forever have allies in Rivendell and the Valley will always welcome you.”

Xxxxxxxxxx

The dawn was just brightening the sky when Elladan woke. He immediately turned to check on Elrohir, who remained disturbingly pale and still. But he found the pulse beneath his fingertips beating with the resilient roll of life.

“Good morning, Penneth.” Taral smiled and handed Elladan lembas and a glass of juice. “Aragost asked that you join him shortly.”

“My Ad…” Elladan began then quickly corrected himself. “Is Dúclaur well? Did he sleep at all last night?”

“I did not see him rest but he did attend to Elrohir in the night. He administered some healing draughts and changed the bandages.” Taral reported. Elrohir ate and then made his way out through the house. He heard more than saw his father, who was apparently explaining aspects of wound care and how to change bandages to an apprentice. He slipped out into the morning, hoping that some of the elves had already warmed river water for bathing purposes. The snow had melted yesterday but the dawn air was cold. This morning he was coordinating efforts to expand their searches in a widening arch around the village. These efforts served several purposes. First, they hoped to confirm that no enemy lurked close by but also they were to identify suitably secure stations further away to post guards. Scouts departed in groups of five and Glorfindel and Arahad manned the maps.

Xxxxxxxxxx Later that day.

“This meeting is adjourned.” Arahad said in dismissal. The council disbanded with each member striding with renewed purpose out of the room.

“If we send too large a patrol to aid the traders, we risk our own protection.” Glorfindel noted warily. Scouts had discovered a group of traders accompanied by Dúnedain from a settlement five leagues away. Several of the travelers had been injured during a clash with orc scouts. Their progress was slowed by the wagons that held their goods. It was reported that they carried food and goods from Gondor. Many rejoiced at the prospect of buying or trading for such wares.

“It would seem that the traders need healers and aid. Our healing houses are already bursting with patients.” Elladan said in worry. “We should check on Dúclaur and Wusteir. They should be forewarned that more injured might be arriving tomorrow.”

“I will warn them. You were out on reconnaissance all morning and then helped with the healers for hours. Eat and rest. I will be back shortly.” Glorfindel ordered. As if on queue Aragost appeared with two small plates. Both contained a meager serving of a thin stew. Even with elves hunting, the surrounding forest could only provide so much food. Elves and men alike were careful to not overtax nature’s bounty. It was the major reason that the Dúnedain population had dispersed into many smaller settlements following the fall of Arnor’s ancient capital.

“I do not like the sudden appearance of the traders.” Elladan nearly growled. “It is most suspicious.

“Yet they also encountered orcs. Perhaps from the same force that attacked us.” Aragost handed Elladan a plate. “We will take precautions but we can not turn down the chance to trade for necessities.” Elladan nodded reluctantly but did not respond. Aragost made an effort to engage him in further conversation.

“How is Elrohir? Is there any improvement?”

“It would have been a mortal wound had not Dúclaur miraculously appeared. It will be many days until he awakens and months until he recovers.” Elladan paused and then quietly added. “I could have lost him without ever having the chance to explain.”

“He will be well in time.” Aragost soothed. He had noted the strain in the twins usually close relationship. Elrohir had been quiet and withdrawn since they arrived two months ago. “You will be able to resolve your differences.”

“He tried to broach the subject many times but I evaded the discussion. If we had really talked.. if we had resolved things, I would have fought beside him. I might have spared him this fight for his life. He would not have been so careless.”

“It is dangerous to talk about what might have been. Your brother is never careless in battle. My father said Elrohir blocked a blow that was meant for him. Elrohir sacrificed his own safety to keep my father safe.”

“We have fought countless battles together without injury.” Elladan’s voice held surprising vehemence.

“You cannot blame Elrohir for getting injured. That is purely the fault of the orcs. We were far outnumbered.” Aragost did not miss the hurt and anger that laced his friend’s voice. With the insight of his line, he somehow knew this was due to deep festering hurts. “But this in not about this battle is it? It is about redhorn pass.” Anguish passed briefly over Elladan’s face.

“We should have been there. We did not protect the one that mattered most. Nay, we stayed in Lothlórien for an archery contest. She journeyed back without us.” His voice wavered.

“You could not have known.”

“Why were we not with her? Or Adar? Why did he not accompany us to Lothlórien? Where was his famous foresight?”

“Duties sometimes keep him in the valley. I knew your mother. She was not one to postpone her own schedule and agenda. She was lively, insightful, and kind. She was a force in her own right.” Aragost said softly. He saw movement out of the corner of his eyes and was surprised to recognize Glorfindel standing in the shadows. The balrog slayer drew a finger to his lips, a motion that meant for Aragost to keep silent about his approach.

“We should have been with her.”

“Did not Celeborn make sure to have many able warriors accompany her? Did any survive?” Aragost whispered, as he started to put his arm around Elladan’s shoulder. Tears glistened uncontrolled down Elladan’s cheeks.

“We might have gotten there sooner were we not delayed by the festivities.”

“You told me you went as soon as your Grandmother found out. That you.” Aragost thought was interrupted.

“Maybe if we had gotten there sooner, maybe if Adar and Daeradar let us help treat her, maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe Naneth would not have needed to sail.” Tears rolled silently down Elladan’s cheeks. The strong arms of the golden warrior embraced the trembling elf, as Glorfindel gently chided.

“Penneth, your Adar is a great healer. Celeborn and Galadriel were there to aid him. It cost them much to see your Naneth in such a state. She fought bravely and held on to life. It is a testimony not only to your Adar’s healing skills but also to her great strength of will. Your skills would not have tipped the balance. Think, now. Your Naneth would have never wanted you to see her like that. Neither would your brother ever be careless. Their injuries are not our fault. None of us are to blame. Leave the blame where it belongs – on the orcs and the forces of darkness alone. ”

Xxxxxxxxx

“Taral will set up a station for sterilizing instruments. Of equal importance is your own attention to hygiene. You can have a positive impact on the health of our patients. Please thoroughly wash your hands before and after each patient that you treat. The disinfectant soap is very effective if you scrub for thirty seconds. In this simple way you can significantly lower the risk spreading infections.” Elrond strove to keep his voice calm and supportive as he demonstrated the use of the soap, although inside he felt angry that these healers of men had such little regard for hygiene. Such infections were preventable! Here they had yet more on their hands from this failure to follow basic practices. Cirulian appeared behind him and rubbed his shoulder gently. The gesture of support was quite welcome.

“I have crushed additional herbs and prepared the paste to fight infections.” Cirulian said helpfully. “Once all have finished washing, the volunteers can retrieve a vial of the paste.”

“Clean the site of the infection carefully and apply the paste liberally as I have demonstrated. Do not hesitate to come ask me if you have any questions.” Elrond added kindly. He watched in a daze as the volunteers scrubbed and exited, then startled slightly as he realized he was alone – but no not quite alone. Elrond felt eyes upon him, although he sensed no ill intent. Scanning the area, he saw only rows of patients and far too few healers. He bent down slightly looking under the supply table. Small green eyes looked fearfully back at him.

“Little one!” Elrond breathed in surprise. “Why do you hide under there?” He stretched his arms out in welcome. The small boy scrutinized him carefully before making a decision and emerging from his hiding spot.

“Will father get better?” The four year old shook from the effort of holding back his tears and brokenly stuttered. “I washed my hands! Will … will he go away like Mama?” Elrond bent and lifted the small boy. But he suddenly felt the strain of the last days descend upon him and swayed slightly under the boy’s weight.

“We will do everything in our power to make him well again.” Elrond soothed and held the boy gently. Someone’s arm suddenly lent support and steadied him in return. He was not surprise to look up into Cirulian’s blue eyes and he smiled in gratitude.

“Come sit down, Penneth.” The Teleri warrior led the renowned healer to a chair at a small table nearby. Elrond had worked nearly non-stop for much of the last three days. “I will arrange for some food for you. You have not eaten yet this day.”

“Day?” Elrond shook his head in surprise, suddenly worried about when he had last checked on Elrohir.

“You changed Elrohir’s bandages not more than three hours ago, Penneth.” Cirulian reassured him, having guessed Elrond’s concern. “Come, you are in need of a break.”

“Penneth?” The boy curiously repeated.

“It means ‘little one’.” Elrond smiled at the boy’s obvious amusement.

“He called you little? You are not little.” The youth giggled and pulled on Elrond’s stray hair that had come unwound from his braids.

“What day is it?” Elrond mused dazedly. Then said aloud. “Those older than you will always think of you as little, no matter how tall you grow.”

“I will tell them to stop once I grow as tall as a tree.” The boy snuggled closer then whispered dejectedly. “My father always teases me.” Elrond looked over at the man, who he assumed was the boy’s father. He wished he could reassure the child that his father would be well. But the man was suffering from an infected wound and only time would tell.

“I met beings as tall as trees.” Elrond smiled at the memory. “Treebeard was one of their names.”

“Treebeard?” The boy repeated immediately enthralled. “Did he look like a tree?”

“Aye, he did.” Elrond began his story.

“Some soup for you, Healer. I am Nissa, Jonas’ grandmother.” A white-haired Dúnedain woman approached and set a tray with two steaming bowl and a basket of rolls down. She smiled approvingly at how the young healer held the sleeping child. “You are very good with children, much like your older cousins Elladan and Elrohir. Elladan bade me to look out for you. He seems quite protective of you.” Elrond was too tired to think of an appropriate response but that did not dissuade the woman from continuing her conversation.

“I was impressed by your patience in teaching the volunteers and apprentices about good hygiene. It takes special skills in diplomacy to teach those who are older than you. They were greatly disturbed that such a young healer would presume to teach them the finer points.” Elrond nearly laughed at the misconception. Although he appeared younger than some of Wusteir’s aides, he was in fact far older than even this jolly, opinionated Grandmother.

“Thank you for the compliment.” Elrond said modestly. “I only wish to give the injured good treatment so they may have the best chance to recover fully.”

“Let me take little Jonas, so you may eat.” Elrond nodded and cautiously transferred his sleeping charge to the woman.

“I pray his father will be well.” Elrond shivered at the loss of the boy’s warmth. The weather had turned markedly colder and the house was drafty. He found a wool cloak suddenly draped over his shoulders.

“I did not know that elves were so effected by the cold.” Wusteir motioned for Elrond to eat and pulled a bowl over for himself. The warmth of the simple thin soup spread through Elrond, augmenting his exhaustion. He had trouble conversing with the man who had just had the benefit of a night of rest.

“The salve you prepared appears to be quite effective at treating the infections. The volunteers are now applying it to more people.” Wusteir noted how the elf fought a losing battle to keep his eyes open. Indeed Elrond finally just pushed the soup bowl aside and rested his head on the table. The human healer leaned forward to test his theory of just who this gifted healer was.

“Thank you for all your help Lord Elrond.” Wusteir said in a low voice.

“You are most welcome.” Mumbled the peredhel who was already drifting off to sleep.

“Dúclaur, Penneth, I will help you to bed.” Cirulian said as he gently slipped his hands under Elrond’s arm and half lifted him. “Wusteir, you will accompany us.” Burning blue eyes bore into the healer, making him immediately regret his foolish experiment. But he already had his answer. Cirulian, in response, sought to assess if this healer was a threat to his Lord. Once the Teleri had guided Elrond to the pallet near Elrohir and wrapped a thick warm blanket around the peredhel, he turned his attention to man.

“Do not speak of anything you think you might have learned about Healer Dúclaur. There are dark forces abroad that see him as a threat and would remove him. Your settlement obviously has already captured the enemies’ attention as the heirs of Elendil reside here. There is little need to add to its allure.”

Xxxxxxxx

Several of the injured traders had been transported by horses to the settlement. The rest journeyed more slowly in their caravan, now escorted by Dúnedain. Ozian brightened, for they had given a fine performance in displaying their gratitude at the escort. The Dúnedain easily accepted the reports of their kin who had guided the traders. The staged encounter with the allied orcs had been most convincing, even if several of the orcs had to be sacrificed to the cause. The caravan wound down towards the meadow, which still held signs of last week’s battle.

“The half elven lord is in the healing house, apparently resting from overtaxing himself.” The informant sneered. He had helped deliver the 'wounded' to the healing house in the settlement and overheard the human healer slip when addressing the peredhel. "I can easily point out the chieftain and his son as well."

“How fortunate. We shall destroy Isildur’s heirs as well as Elrond half-elven in one attack. Our Master will richly reward us.” Ozian replied he carefully kept his voice low. They halted their wagons on the edge of the settlement and moved to open the wagons and set up display of their wares. The naive civilians began to mill around, eyeing their efforts with interest. But with the civilians, elven and Dúnedain warriors drew near scrutinizing their actions more closely. Ozian noted a change sweep through the crowd. The elves looks turned suspicious almost as if they suddenly recognized him for who he really was.

“We are discovered.” Ozian realized and signaled quickly to his men. They drew their concealed weapons and attacked. They initiated an aggressive attack, which at the onset gave them an advantage over the Dúnedain and elven warriors, especially as some of the civilian population were mulling around the ware-laden carts. Ozian flung one of his daggers at the chieftain. Arahad sidestepped quickly, enough to avoid certain death but the dagger caught his forearm. The henchmen swarmed forward even as Elladan and Glorfindel organized their warriors to defend the chieftain.

Ozian swung his sword, the blow was blunted slightly by colliding with Habert’s raised sword, but it connected with the man’s head and he fell limply to the ground. The trader ran towards the healing houses, which were easily identifyable by the circle of aides and healers tending a fire outside. Ozian grabbed the nearest healer from behind, placing his knife at Wusteir’s jugular.

“Elrond half-elven.” He barked as the knife moved lower drawing blood as it went. “Where is he?” The healer pointed and twisted in Ozian’s grip but the enemy’s knife caught his arm and side as he stumbled forward, crying out as Ozian climbed over the healer’s body in his rage fueled quest. He quickly entered the second house and scanned the beds of the injured. Some were awake but none would be able to challenge the dark Captain. Blood dripped from his blade and a wild light filled his eyes. It was then that he noted the small room on the left. Two dark haired elves lay sleeping on the floor. One was heavily bandaged. The other sleeper was garbed in healer’s attire.

“That must be Elrond half-elven. I shall dispatch the Elven Lord with a Morgul blade. Then the Master may have a chance to capture his soul.” He thought reaching down for a special concealed dagger within his cloak. The blade smoked slightly as he pulled it free from its sheath. He moved silently towards Elrond. But unbeknown to the assassin, the silver haired Teleri emerged from the corner behind the door. In a flash a deadly silver blade had ended the enemies’ quest. Ozian was dead before his body crashed limply to the floor. The evil blade clanked harmlessly to the floor beside him.

Xxxxxxxx

Elladan and Glorfindel battled by Arahad’s side. Aragost saw Habert fall under an enemy blow. A lone trader broke off from the group and dash towards the healer’s compound with his weapons drawn. Aragost yelled over to his father. But it was Glorfindel and Elladan that reacted. The peredhel barked a series of orders out and immediately more elves came to reinforce the group around Arahad. Gold and black figures darted off in pursuit of the renegade.

“Wusteir!” Elladan gasped and bent to check the healer, who was bleeding from a deep arm wound. The knife had grazed his side as well.

“Elrond!” The healer gasped in pain. “He is the target. Go.” They ran towards the house but a familiar silver topped figure appeared carrying the dead body of their enemy.

“All inside are safe. It seems one too many had an interest in Dúclaur.” Cirulian noted as he deposited the body on the ground and gingerly removed a slim wrapped object. The evil blade smoked in the sunlight.

“There can be no doubt as to their origin. Who else but the servants of the enemy carry Morgul blades?” Glorfindel noted. The three elves then turned to survey the area for signs of danger. In the distance they could see that elves and Dúnedain had gained the upper hand.

"How would an outsider guess our healer's identity?" Cirulian questioned.

"How indeed? We should discuss that later." Glorfindel whispered.

“I will wake Dúclaur. Not a task I relish given that he has caught less than two hours of sleep.” Cirulian turned to leave.

“Go tend to Wusteir.” Glorfindel ordered. “We will keep this area secure.” Elladan nodded and ran outside to assist Wusteir. He wrapped strips of cloth to stem the flow of blood from the arm wound then lifted the healer and transported him to the triage center.

“Are you a healer?” Wusteir asked fretfully.

“My father taught me.” The words flowed with pride from Elladan’s lips. He slowly assessed Wusteir’s wounds as he waited for the pain and sleep draught to take effect. The stab wound on the left arm was more serious and he would need help from his Adar to check the condition of the tendons. This decided, he moved to clean and stitch the shallow two-inch gash along the man’s ribcage. It was not long until the healing center was flooded with new patients and Elrond emerged.

“Where is Wusteir?” Elrond asked wearily. There were many who needed treatment.

“I just stitched a wound to his side. I need help assessing if the tendon in his arm was damaged by the knife wound.” Elladan called. Elrond gasped at this news as Aragost ran in with another patient.

“It is Habert. A head wound…” The young Dúnedain frantically called. His frantic descriptions quickly followed.

“Lay him here, Aragost.” Elrond was immediately awake. He assessed the wound that was still bleeding heavily.

“He sustained a serious concussion. We will need to be watching for any signs of swelling or a build up of pressure.” Elrond warned as he sutured the gash. He was soon directing others as he moved around to gauge the severity of the wounded. The more minor wounds were quickly delegated to others for treatment. Elrond and Elladan treated the more serious injuries. At times they enlisted help from Glorfindel and Taral, who were coordinating the transport of the wounded. It was nearly five hours later before Cirulian pulled the weary peredhel from the room.

“Come Penneth.” The Teleri chided. “Others can finish. You need rest.”

“Do not fear. I know where to find you.” Elladan called after them. He worked several more hours and was just washing his hands and removing his stained tunic when Glorfindel approached.

“Is the area secure?” Elladan inquired.

“None of the traders would surrender. Rather they chose to fight to the death. We surveyed the area. There were no signs that any escaped. I believe our position is secure, although we have increased the guard around the settlement.” Glorfindel informed him as he handed him some lembas. “There is no stew for dinner for obvious reasons. You should also get some rest, Master Healer.” Elladan took the lembas gratefully, for he was indeed starving.

“It is not a title I would chose or even one that I am skilled enough to carry, but necessity has made it so.” Elladan returned.

“Taral sent me to ensure that you took some rest.” Glorfindel’s lips curved into a smile. Taral had some advanced training in the healing arts but had not done so willingly. The elf’s father tried to insist that his son become a healer. But Taral had always leaned towards being a warrior.

“I am sure it is only out of concern for my well being.” The sarcasm in Elladan’s voice caused Glorfindel to laugh.

“Nay, if something happened to you, he might be called upon to be the head healer.”

“That is surely his worst nightmare.” Elladan smiled as he munched on the last of the lembas.

“Goodnight elfling.” Glorfindel ruffled the dark hair and turned to leave.

“Goodnight Glorfindel.” Elladan crossed out of the triage center and ambled over to where Cirulian was standing watch over his father and brother.

“You do not need to stand guard, Lord Cirulian. Glorfindel reports that all the enemy forces have been neutralized. The danger is past.”

“You obviously do not know your father’s history.” The Teleri laughed slightly but did not move from his protective corner position. “He barely survived to reach his majority. If this is to be a repeat of those fifty years, I will soon beg for passage on one of Cirdan’s boats.”

“I have not heard those tales.” Elladan’s eyes widened at the warrior’s serious mien.

“Tales for another time.” Cirulian stated. “Perhaps when we are back within the safety of Imladris.” Cirulian's demeanor signaled that he was through conversing. Elladan knew better than to press this warrior of the first age. He sighed in acceptance and bent down to assess his brother’s condition. His brother pulled strength from their father, which was visible as a soft glow, which flowed from Elrond to Elrohir. The small but steady improvements in Elrohir’s condition lifted Elladan’s spirits. It would be a long road to recovery but his dear brother would indeed recover. Elladan moved over and stroked his Adar’s head lightly, noting the dark circles that accentuated the elder peredhel’s pale face. If anything, the great Lord of Imladris looked more like a youth, dressed as his was in the oversized healer’s garb. He remembered the very first time he realized that his father was not invincible. He remembered hiding behind the curtains in his father’s study, spying on his parents.

“Celebrían, please, we are not alone.” His Adar warned. Naneth was massaging Ada’s shoulders and neck. Her head was bent and almost hidden behind his.

“Come out Elladan. Come help me make your Ada better.” His Naneth’s voice twinkled with mirth. He hopped down from his perch, immediately interested in helping.

“Ada is sick?” He looked up from the perspective of a ten year old at his tall father.

“I am well ion nin.” Elrond soothed.

“Elrond!” Celebrían chided indignantly. “There is no need to hide your ills from your family. Come here Elladan. You can help me massage Ada’s shoulders. It is not an easy job to make sure the Valley is protected and all runs smoothly. Your Ada may look calm and serene but feel all these knots here.” She guided his small hand and pressed hard. Elrond groaned in response.

“I will make you better Ada.” Elladan promised, although he stuck his tongue out and cried “Ewww” when his Naneth placed a kiss on Ada’s cheek. She swatted at Elladan playfully as her laughter filled the room.

“Families care and watch out for each other. We know and guard each other’s secrets and dreams.”

“Secrets?” Piped up the elfling, intrigued. Although his small hands could hardly touch the knots in his father’s neck, his feather light touch lifted his father’s spirits more than he could ever know.

“Celebrían!” Elrond sighed in dismay only to be hushed by another kiss from his wife.

“When work is too stressful, your Ada’s stomach starts to bother him and he can not eat.” She divulged in a secretive whisper in Elladan’s ear.

“Ada! I know how to make you better!” Elladan announced and sped out of the room. Ten minutes later he came back with a small dish and his brother in tow. Naneth beamed in approval.

“Honey cakes!” They announced in delight and moved to set the sticky dish on Elrond’s desk while the adults hastily gathered the important documents out of harms way. Small elflings were soon gleefully eating. After every second or third bite, Elladan would turn and feed a piece of the sticky treat to his Ada, who smiled and laughed at the messy elflings before him.

“I like fixing Ada.” Elladan smiled at the childhood memory and lovingly stroked his father’s dark hair. His father’s face was thinner now and the collarbone more defined where it peaked from the collar of his shirt. Elladan shifted the blankets slightly to more effectively keep his father warm.

“He is well - only tired.” Cirulian reported. “It is to be expected after three days of non stop healing duties.”

“We should obtain some more appropriate clothing for my father.” Elladan smiled as silver eyes blinked up at him dazedly.

“Ion-nin.” Elrond’s soft whisper was a balm to the hearts of those standing near. “Do you need me? How can I help?”

“Adar-nin, rest easy.” Elladan said soothingly. “All is well. Elrohir improves slowly. Rest.”

It seemed to Elladan that he had only just fallen to sleep when pained mumbles and jostling movements woke him. He sat up groggily and turned over to see Glorfindel, who was already perched next to Elrond. One of the Seneschal’s hands lay on Elrond’s brow while the other grasped his hand. The Vanya emitted a soft golden glow from his hands. Elladan watched in stunned silence.

“Celebrían….. bria hold on…. we are coming.” He heard his father gasping hoarsely in his sleep. A tear slipped down Elladan’s cheek. He had been so caught up trying to deal with his own hurt and loss. He had not ever comforted his father in this two-year ordeal. Nay, instead, all to often, he and Elrohir had yelled and confronted their Adar.

“Elrond, awake and come towards the light.” Glorfindel commanded. It seemed as if the room lurched and they bobbed as if they were a ship tossed by the waves. Glorfindel looked up at Elladan, who had moved to caress his father’s hair. “Tis the sea longing.”

“His heart races!” Elladan observed in worry as he checked his father’s pulse. His eyes narrowed when he detected a faint murmur. “There is a faint swish after every few beats, like heart murmurs of men.”

“Remnant of an old injury - Fear not, your Daernaneth declared it harmless.” Glorfindel then turned his full attention to his friend. “Elrond, return to us. It is naught but a dream.” Glorfindel focused calm and peace towards the peredhel. Counting in his head, the Seneschal sought to calm his friend, who trembled violently from the horror of the memory. The Vanya knew why Elrond had been able to lead them directly to where Celebrían had been held. It was the same reason most married elves faded or sought refuge in the West once their spouse died. He guessed that Elrond and Celebrían’s connection had been even stronger and deeper than most elves and that her torture was also his. Silver eyes regained awareness but were caught fast in the unyielding gaze of the reborn elf. Glorfindel pulled the half-elf into his arms protectively.

“I failed her.” Elrond whispered, oblivious to all but Glorfindel’s presence. His hand covered the spot where he had been injured a month ago. His eyes closed in pain. “I can not protect our children.” Elladan swallowed hard. Indeed, he and his brother had said no less in their grief and anger filled state. Surely, their father did not believe these words said in a flare of emotions.

“Celebrían is safe in the gardens of Lorien. Never doubt that. The Maiar are healing the hurts to her fëa. Nothing can harm her.” Glorfindel's heart ached for the trembling elf in his arms. He could count on his hands the number of times he had comforted Elrond thusly. He prayed these were among a scarce number of times that Elrond had been so tormented by these memories. But he knew that it was probably much more. The thought that his friend had to endure this alone pained him.

“Some tea for a dreamless sleep.” Cirulian suggested as he handed the steaming draught to Glorfindel. He had noted the signs of Elrond’s distress much earlier and had gone to fetch Glorfindel.

“Excellent suggestion.” Glorfindel whispered and guided the cup to Elrond’s lips, gently coaxing the brew into his friend. Gradually, Elrond calmed.

“Ada,” Elladan’s voice wavered as he moved to embrace his father. Glorfindel relinquished Elrond to his son's arms. But he noted how Elrond lowered his eyes, as if expecting his son’s disgust.

“Forgive me ion-nin. I am sorry, I failed you and Elrohir.” Elrond’s voice cracked.

“Ada, it is I who beg your forgiveness. Please, I did not mean those words said in grief and anger. It was never your fault.” Elladan held his father tightly. His earlier conversations with Aragost and Glorfindel had finally cleared his thinking on these events. “You did everything possible to save her. You have always been a wonderful father to us, in all these long years. Only the orcs are to blame.”

“I did not come in time to help Elrohir. His spirit still wanders.” Elrond’s voice trailed off uncharacteristically as he dared not put his fears into words.

“It was nothing less than a miracle that you found us when you did. I can only thank Eru for such a blessing.” Elladan rubbed soothing circles on his father’s back, knowing it would not be long until the potent draught took effect. Indeed, he could already feel his father relaxing in his arms. “My heart tells me that Elrohir will be well. We will call to him together tomorrow, once you are rested. Be at peace, Adar. I love you.”

It was a long while until Elladan was willing to relinquish his hold on his father. Eventually he eased the sleeping peredhel down to lie on the pallet and made sure the blankets were tucked firmly around him. It was important to him that his father was warm for the night air was chill.

“You will not need to lead armies in this war.” Elladan promised under his breath. “Not if I can help it.”

“I think he would not take kindly to being spoken for, nor treated as an invalid. He has lead armies and guided Imladris for an age.” Glorfindel said. “It is only in such close quarters that we have even noticed his ill dreams.”

“He has already sacrificed much in this battle against the darkness.”

“All of us have. But I too hope he is spared from this duty. I believe your father’s appointed task is to keep the Haven of Imladris open and to welcome all those who oppose the darkness regardless of what kindred from which they hail.”

“Your parents made Imladris into a beacon for hope and knowledge. It is the one place where many come to share their cultures.” Cirulian noted.

“And it is the place where your Adar should be now.” Glorfindel frowned. “The enemy knew enough to seek out your Adar in the healing tents. Where did he gain this knowledge? Did the few injured Dúnedain and traders that we quickly transferred to healers find this out recently? Or do we have a spy among our midst?”

“I have heard Wusteir slip several times, perhaps others also picked this up?” Cirulian mused as Elladan studied his father’s sleeping figure.

“I doubt any who do not know him well would guess his identity.”

“Yet a spy might bring more of the enemy’s forces to us. Or such a person might choose a more subtle method to achieve the same goal.” Cirulian noted. “Poison has been employed for such purposes before.”

“On Adar?” Elladan gasped.

“He was a mere elfling, barely passed twenty, at the time.” Cirulian acknowledged succinctly to the two gaping elves before him. Knowing the warrior as they did, neither Glorfindel nor Elladan were surprised when he did not elaborate. “There are also documented uses of poison among the Edain. I suggest you warn Arahad of the possibility for surely he and his family are prime targets as well.”

“Can we send messages to the neighboring settlements to scout for further signs of the enemy?” Elladan suggested.

“Would that the birds and wind could be our ears.” Glorfindel said wistfully.

Xxxxxxxxxx

The lean dark figure stretch and rubbed his eyes trying to adjust to the brightness of the room. Cirulian was not surprised when his subject’s first action upon waking was to assess Elrohir’s condition. Upon sitting back with a sigh, Elrond’s next clipped tones startled the Guard. They were the tones of the Lord of Imladris.

“It appears to be past noon, Cirulian. Why was I not woken?” The peredhel’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You had not slept in days, my Lord. Your healing skills were needed, but everyone needs sleep.” Cirulian said carefully, not wanting to admit to drugging the peredhel lord. “Glorfindel called you out of fitful dreams and it was decided to give you a draught for a dreamless sleep. Do you not remember?” Silver eyes focused on him as if to assess the truth of his words. Their intensity nearly made him shiver. Their beloved Lord was indeed powerful in his own right. The serious face then softened as Elrond decided he was satisfied with the explanation.

“I trust there were no emergencies during the night? No one that needed my care?” Elrond bent his head slightly and admitted. “I can recall nothing since you led me to bed.”

“We would have woken you, if you were needed, Adar.” Elladan whispered. He carried a small tray of food. He was surprised to hear that his father could not recall anything from the night, but then again, the exhaustion combined with the potent draught might account for that. He set the tray down and handed Elrond a bowl. “These are as close to honey cakes as men make. I think you will like them. They are not as sweet as those at home.”

“Honey cakes?” Elrond raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“I have been most remiss in caring for those dearest to me – for you and Elrohir especially.” Elladan stooped and brushed his brother’s forehead. Elrohir was still stubbornly unconscious. “I intend to make amends, Adar.” He moved closer to grasp his father’s hands. Cirulian bowed and exited, smiling to himself as he overheard Elladan’s heartfelt apology to his father. The guard surveyed the larger room that was filled with patients and then stepped out into the crisp spring afternoon. He could see Glorfindel in the distance, conferring with Arahad. The Seneschal looked over and locked eyes with Cirulian for a second. Their fleeting glance was enough to communicate that all was well.

Xxxxxxxxx

“We can call to Elrohir together, Ada.” Elladan pulled his father over. “Together we will draw Elrohir back.” They each sat and grasped one of Elrohir’s hands. Elladan took his father’s free hand forming an unbroken circle. Elladan pushed aside his own trepidation as he opened his mind fully to his father. Elrond’s own heart rose, as he realized the trust his son extended. Together, their songs of love and healing intermingled and they set out in spirit to search for the wandering twin, whose mind was shrouded in mist and confusion. It was a bleak landscape that met their minds, one that reflected Elrohir’s own despair.

“Why are Mandos’ Halls not open to me?” Elrohir lamented. His world was shrouded in pain. “I failed Arahad. None could have survived such an overwhelming force. Dear Aragost and Brellina! Are they gone as well?” He had no hope and did not wish to wake to face such desolation.

“Elrohir, dear brother, please do not leave me.” Elladan called.

“You are not real, just another mirage.” Elrohir turned away.

“Ion-nin, I love you. Come, my son, we can face the trials of the future together.” Elrond called, but his heart quaked at the utter despair he sensed. He knew his son would not listen to them - even to their combined calls. He drew deep within himself to recall the echoes of his other half, now severed from him. Her spirit had shed light on the depths of his soul. Her glowing adventuresome spirit was hope embodied. It was these echoes of her that he shared with his sons.

“Ion-nin!” A melodious soprano sang in delight. “I love you, my sons. You are always part of me as I am part of you. Live, grow, and love dear ones. My Elrohir – my Elladan, life can be hard and traumatic, but it can be joy and laughter and love.” Her hand grasped Elrohir’s in the darkness and bright light flared as the scene changed to a beautiful beach. Elrond had conjured a scene from their courtship. The emotions it evoked brought tears to Elrond’s eyes. Their Naneth’s eyes glinted mischievously as she pulled them into the water. The waves greeted them happily. She dunked Elrohir under as she laughed. “Come catch me if you can!”

“Naneth, but I have failed you.” Elrohir cried.

“Nay, child, you could never fail or disappoint us. You, Elladan, and Arwen are our precious gifts from Eru. You are our blessings and our hope. Please, child, do not give in to despair. We love you so much. I am sorry that I had to leave you to seek healing. But I will be well, dear one.” Celebrian smiled, it was the stunning smile that Elrond had fallen in love with so many thousands of years ago. It was a smile that warmed her sons’ hearts.

“Elrohir!” Elladan called as he splashed in the waves of this dream world. “I am so sorry. I too, felt responsible for Naneth’s departure. Please, come back with us. I could not bear to lose you.” The shared healing strength of Elladan and Elrond worked together to pull Elrohir from where he had been trapped in despair.

Xxxxxxxxxx

“Where is Dúclaur?” Wusteir asked one of the apprentices. The human healer was able to sit up but tired quickly. His bandaged arm throbbed relentlessly.

“Are you in pain?” Taron asked. “I learned to make willow bark tea. Master Dúclaur taught me. He said it was good to treat pain and inflammation.” They were running low on most medicines. Thankfully, willow bark was something they had in abundance.

“I would be most grateful for some Willow bark tea.” Wusteir smiled encouragingly. “Could you also inquire about Dúclaur's whereabouts?”

Xxxxxxxx

“Master Dúclaur?” A tentative voice called. Elrond sighed slightly as he finished spreading the healing salve on Elrohir’s sutures. Elladan was carefully spooning a healing draught into his brother’s mouth.

“In here.” Elrond called. Elrohir’s silver eyes were clouded with pain, but his eyebrows shot skyward when he heard his father answer to the strange name.

“Tis a long story, Elrohir.” His father stroked his head and let some of his healing power flow into his son. The pained features relaxed slightly under his touch.

“I will fill you in.” Elladan offered. “We have much to talk about and share. But do not worry, I will do so slowly, as you heal.” The healing apprentice was talking with Cirulian, who had barred entrance to Elrohir’s small room. “I thank you Dúclaur for helping me care for my brother. I can tend him for awhile as you check on the others.” Elrond smiled slightly as he stood.

“Until later, my Lords.” Elrond’s silent laughter filled his sons heads as he added wordlessly. “Be well, my sons.”

Xxxxxxxxxx

“And what if there another force is being assembled as we now speak?” Arahad observed.

“Perhaps we should move the settlement.” One of the councilors interjected. “There is little point in remaining here if our location is already known to the undead King.” Elladan and Glorfindel exchanged pointed looks as the heated discussion raged. The Dúnedain council was right to be anxious over the possibility of additional attacks. They had only survived the first attack through the timely arrival of the elves.

“Our scouts now scour the area for any signs of danger.” Aragost interrupted. “We will have ample warning of any threat.”

“But we have not the man power to hold off even a similar sized advance by the enemy. Your elven force will not remain here indefinitely.” Arahad turned to address Glorfindel, who he recognized as Elrond’s Seneschal. “How long will you stay?”

“We will stay until we know your people are safe and secure.” Glorfindel promised.

Xxxxxxxxxx

“Did you see her too?” Elrohir’s voice was barely audible. Elladan had been careful to time his visits with his brother’s short schedule. The two had been talking for much of the half hour that Elrohir had been awake. Indeed, the healing elf required many hours of rest each day.

“Yes, she was so full of life and love.” Elladan drew the image of his Naneth to the front of his mind. Warmth spread through him at the image and he felt the same warmth fill Elrohir’s soul. “She would have wanted us to live and love.”

“Until now I could not get the image of how we found her out of my mind.” Elrohir’s painfully admitted. “But she would not have wanted us to remember her that way.”

“No, she would not.” Elladan agreed, although he winced as his mother’s battered and bruised image flashed into his head. The memory still caused him physical pain. “I could not speak of it even to you. I was sure it was partially my fault. We …”

“We went to the archery contest.” Elrohir finished. “I thought you blamed me. I blamed myself.”

“Even Daernaneth (Grandmother) did not know. She saw nothing in her mirror to warn her.”

“And Adar – he saw nothing either. Not until it happened. Then Adar was the first to ride out with the largest force that had set out from Imladris in nearly a thousand years.”

“I searched for someone to blame. Although truly I blamed myself.” Neither was sure which of them made the admission, for both felt that way. Silver eyes met silver eyes as they grasped hands. Tears streamed down identical faces.

“Forgive me brother.”

“No one is to blame. Only the orcs and the forces of darkness are to blame.” Elladan stated firmly.

“I wish to stand against the darkness until it is banished forever.” Elrohir whispered.

“I will stand beside you.” Elladan promised.

Xxxxxxxxxx

“Ouch!” Brellina nearly shouted as Elrond gently manipulated the leg and foot.

“It is healing well, Brellina. There is no sign of infection.”

“Elladan said the same yesterday when he came by to change the bandages. But I worried.” Brellina’s usually confident voice held worry.

“You are still in a lot of pain.” Elrond observed. Brellina shook her head slightly and watched in surprise as a golden glow surrounded Elrond’s hands. She felt soothing warmth penetrates her leg and the pain subsided. “The cut was deep and there is some damage to the nerve. But your pain tells me that the damage is not permanent. You could feel each slight touch as I examined you. I am afraid there will be some pain for the next few weeks but that will go away as it heals.”

“I worry. What use is a wife who can not walk, who can not tend to her families needs?” Uncharacteristic tears welled in the brave woman’s eyes. Elrond look up to see Arahad in the doorway. Guilt colored the Dúnedain’s features and Elrond stood to relinquish his spot to his kin from afar.

“You will be well. Our Lord Elrond has spoken and there is no finer healer.” Arahad said softly as he bent to kiss his wife’s brow. “Your fiery spirit fuels much more than simple household duties. Do not worry! Aragost and I will take care of things while you recuperate. Please give us this chance to make amends.” Elrond left the two alone and moved to the kitchen to brew a draught for Lady Brellina. He had just packed up his supplies and when Arahad emerged.

“She can have willow bark tea as often as every six hours.” Elrond explained.

“I know. You taught me well.” Arahad walked Elrond to the door. “Thank you for all your care for my family and my people. Ah, one of your shadows is lurking.” Arahad laughed as he waved Glorfindel over. Once he had relinquished Elrond to the company of his Seneschal, Arahad turned closed the door.

“Are you well, my Lord?” Glorfindel paused to straighten out Elrond’s tunic. It was a gray weave that seemed at times plain and at times shimmering. It was a special fabric used to weave Lothlórien cloaks, one that could camouflage the wearer.

“As well as can be, given the circumstances.” Elrond’s sharp gaze took in their surroundings. “What troubles you?”

“As far as our scouts have ventured, they find no signs of danger.” His Seneschal reported. But it was what he did not say that Elrond registered.

“I can scan further to see if dark forces are moving.” Elrond spoke quietly. “But it is to noisy for me to hear the wind’s whispers here.”

“Would it be too taxing? We can keep to more physical means. I would feel better knowing that we leave these people secure.” Glorfindel said hesitantly.

“My heart would also rest easier, knowing that this generation at least is safe.” Elrond’s eyes glinted strangely and he stood quietly for many minutes until Glorfindel cupped his cheek and pulled him closer. It was an embrace between beloved brothers, although Elrond’s disguise remained still mostly intact.

“How long do you think we should remain?” Glorfindel finally whispered.

“We can aid with the spring planting, but each day here taxes their food supply.” Elrond said quietly. His worry, now voiced, immediately drew Glorfindel to study his friend more closely.

“Tis no reason to forgo nourishment.” He chided, taking in the lean features.

“I have survived on less.”

“Not while being the chief healer for so many.” Glorfindel returned.

“Most are out of danger and are on the road to recovery.”

“But still many need your healing touch.” Glorfindel held the silver eyes captive momentarily until Elrond nodded begrudgingly. “How long until Elrohir can travel?”

“With help it would be safe to move him in another week or two.” Elrond’s voice strained slightly.

“He will recover. Elrohir will be well. Elladan is also starting to grieve for his Naneth’s loss instead of letting his anger consume him. Both of them will be well given time.” Glorfindel’s arm drew Elrond closer as the Vanya leaned to whisper in the delicate ear. “And you? Will you be well?”

“Given the support of my dear friends.” Elrond whispered in return and grasped the hand that Glorfindel draped over his shoulder. “I am most humbled by your love and care.”

“You reap what you sew. You, my friend, have loved and cared for many.” Glorfindel turned suddenly at a hawk’s nearby shriek. Laughter floated into his mind and when he turned back around Elrond had vanished.

“You can follow my trail. I seek an ancient tree with a strong, vibrant song. It will be my anchor while I search.” Elrond’s wordless message flashed in his mind.

“I will bring Cirulian, Taral, and Amatheir to help guard you, while you scout for the enemy.” Glorfindel promised wordlessly. “Let the tree’s song and my light guide you back.” Glorfindel returned as his heart gave a silent prayer of thanks that the One Ring was lost and he did not have to wait near Elrond with sword in hand. He hoped never to be held to the oath that he had sword to Gil-Galad so long ago.

Xxxxxxxxx

Elrond dashed across the wide plain. His clothing obscured him from the watchful eyes of the Dúnedain guard. An elf on watch might stand a chance of detecting him, if they had been told what to watch for, but a man stood little chance. His breathing settled into the cadence of his run as his muscles and body found their rhythm. For many thousands of years he had found refreshment in a morning jog. It cleared the mind and sharpened the senses. The cloud of worry and sounds of the village faded away as he crossed into the forest. The earth was still cold and hard under his footsteps but the song of the trees buoyed his spirits. Their song of awakening was the signal to bud and leaf in the spring. He ran until all the sounds of civilization fell away and several miles of earth had greeted his feet. His blood swelled with the sounds of the wild and he followed the baritone song to a great, ancient oak.

“Greetings, oh wise Oak. May I climb and rest in your branches?” Elrond politely requested.

“Be welcome, Eluchil. (Heir of Elu).” The ancient tree called. “It would be my pleasure to succor you in my branches this day.” Elrond thanked the Oak profusely and scrambled up, slipping into a knotted haven where three huge branches diverged. Here, hidden from prying eyes he dropped the guard that he had built around his mind to protect himself from the sea-longing. To hear the wind, an open mind and spirit was required. Sweat beaded down his brow and he pressed his head hard against the damp and nutty-smelling bark, as if he could ground himself against the huge swells and waves that tossed him.

“Come west, child.” The waves insisted. “Tis time to give your worries over to others and come west for healing.” The foaming crests of each wave crashed into him then receded. He fought down the nausea building inside him.

“Tis not yet my time. My song here is not ended.” He dove under the wave. Its swell and caress, soothing and comforting. Its tantalizing song of promise and healing washed over him. When he broached the surface of the water to draw a breath another voice called to him. This one was seductive and held a dangerous glint.

“Join us. Join the voices of the multitude that create the zephyr.” The wind beckoned. “Here is where you belong. Here, you need not be different nor strain against the waves.” But different waves, these quite painful, flowed through him as Vilya flared brilliantly, its power burned as it meld with the power of his fëa. He had always heard the wind and trees, even as a child, but the pull, nay the demanding song of the wind had never exerted such influence over him. He strained against its persuasive melody.

“No, my people need me.” He whispered as he strained to exert control over the wild winds. “It is not yet my time to rest. We search now for any signs of the dark forces.” This time the Vilya’s aura surrounded him and he felt his consciousness drawn to the zephyr’s diverse voices. Previously, the wind had ever whispered its findings through Vilya. But now, his consciousness was swept up in the wind, even while his body grasped the grand Oak’s trunk. The wind raced swiftly through the forests of the misty mountains. Its strength was nearly enough to bend towering pines and conifers as it jerked some of their stiff fragrant needles from their branches. The occasional bear or moose sniffed grumpily at the northern gale before retreating into their shelters. The wind curved out and followed the great river Anduin, encountering the golden haired Éothéod, who were traveling towards new lands in Calenardhon. These men traveled swiftly upon beautiful horses. The wind found their trail and noted their smaller settlements upon the open plains – a new Horse-land, settled by a people stout of heart. These people, he somehow knew, would stand against the orc forces of the Witch-King, beating them back for hundreds of years until one of their numbers would banish the Nazgul King for eternity. The wind turned abruptly and scoured the edges of these newly settled lands. It noted the orc movements on their boarders and slowed to a breeze in an effort to accurately gauge their numbers and locations. Then caught in an updraft, Elrond followed a storm that passed back over the Anduin and gently buffeted the Vales, with their forests of Mallorns. He felt the power of Galadriel, holding back the outside world and turned back towards the Misty Mountains. Just over Redhorn pass, a horrid smoke was quenched by the storm’s downpour. He spied Galadhrim clearing the remains of smoking pyres. They had engaged a large force of orcs; he bent closer to observe their numbers and heard Haldir speaking with Celeborn.

“You believe this force was headed for the Dúnedain settlement, where your grandsons are?”

“Yes, I am sure that was their destination.” Celeborn sighed.

“They might have succeeded where the first force failed.” Haldir shuddered as the wind blew by him.

“Galadriel detected their movements and we intercepted them. But she still fears for the twins.”

“We will arrive there within the week.” Haldir said. “It would have been faster without all these extra provisions.”

“They are in need of food.” Celeborn said, his face sporting a smile as he heard the wind whisper that his grandsons were alive and recovering. He sent a small prayer of thanks to the One for this mysterious but most welcome information. Elrond could not help but smile at his father-in-laws reaction. He turned his attention to the swirling current of air that swelled upward. The updraft drew him high into the cloud cover and he focused on the song of the great oak, clearing all else from his mind. Some time later he felt his consciousness settle into his cold body. A golden glow surrounded him. His breathing sped up, but as he struggled to warm himself he slipped into darkness.

Xxxxxxxx

The forest was bathed in shadows as the sun sank low on the horizon. Earlier Glorfindel had felt Elrond unleash Vilya’s power but there was a change in the ring’s song that unnerved him. His heart feared for the one it called brother, the one who’s soul was already rocked by the waves of the sea longing. The tearful plea of a very ill Celebrían echoed in his mind.

“I fear for Elrond. In my dreams he never arrives in the Blessed Realm. He becomes a part of Arda, a houseless spirit on the wind, remembering naught of what once was.” Tears leaked from Celebrían’s azure eyes. Glorfindel’s drew his friend’s limp body near. He held the chilled face to his chest while his other hand snaked through Elrond’s long hair and cradled his head. The wind howled around them. Glorfindel could hear its song echoing through Elrond’s mind.

“Do not leave us! Stay! Here there is only joy and pleasure.” The wind cried insistently. Its pull suddenly transformed to a strong, harsh attraction, reminding Glorfindel of an ancient poem about the Erlking, a spirit that ensnarled a child. “And if thou’rt unwilling, than force I’ll employ.” But his worries appeared unfounded when he felt more than heard Elrond’s own strength challenge the wind spirits and the howling subsided to a gentle breeze under the peredhel’s command. He sensed Elrond’s essence slip back into his body and he gently held Earendil’s son for a short time.

“Glorfindel are you near?” The tenor called gently mind-to-mind. Relief flowed through Glorfindel as reached out with his spirit, its golden light surrounding and soothing the waking peredhel. He laughed silently at the situation as he called back.

“Wake dear one. I am near.” Elrond’s eyes opened groggily to reveal silver orbs flecked with blue. Glorfindel nearly gasped in surprise. Elrond easily perceived his shock.

“What is the matter?” The elf lord asked in worry. He was still too disoriented to speak aloud.

“Your eyes! They hold some blue hues.” Glorfindel reached out with his senses. He could feel that Vilya had further intermingled with Elrond’s battered spirit but he sensed no malice. Still, this was the first time he had ever observed a connection outside when Elrond directly employed the ring. His first thoughts were to transport his friend quickly to safety. But that would require carrying the noted war-hero, lore master, and healer in front of his men. Elrond, though only closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, much of the blue had disappeared.

“It is alright Glorfindel, although I would chose to not employ Vilya for a time. I am weary and have called upon its strength too often in these last months.” Elrond explained.

“I am sorry to have asked you to use it this time.” Glorfindel lamented.

“I made the decision to search. I would not leave these people in a vulnerable position. Arahad and his family are dear to me.” Elrond paused and shared pictures and thoughts more fully with Glorfindel. “I saw three areas where the enemy forces are concentrated – Dol Guldur, the boarders of Calenardhon, and Redhorn pass. Celeborn led a contingent to strike at a force that was just crossing Red horn pass.” Glorfindel gasped at the images of the large contingent of Galadhrim routing the enemy at the pass.

“Lothlórien and Green Wood stand between us and the force being assembled at the fortress of Dol Guldur. What of the enemy force near Calenardhon?” Glorfindel questioned.

“A brave new people – the Éothéod have settled there.” Elrond shared images of the golden horsemen and many other observations as well.

“Many in the village will be relieved by this news. There is no immediate danger for the settlement outside of the lack of food.” Glorfindel signaled his warriors to draw near. Elrond had recovered enough to speak aloud.

“Celeborn’s forces will arrive within the week. They bring food and medicine to supplement the settlement’s needs.” Elrond said as he gingerly rose. They slowly climbed down the great trunk. Several of the elven warriors were keeping watch. Celthúl snorted as he impatiently pawed the ground. Asfaloth stood proudly and patiently nearby. Cirulian moved forward and clasped a warm cloak around his Lord.

“You should really train Celthúl better. He is quite unruly for anyone other than you.” Elrond nodded and turned solemnly to the steed, chastising him quietly. Before he mounted he turned back to the great Oak and placing his hands gently upon the mighty trunk, he sang a song of thanks and blessing for the tree’s health. In return, the mighty tree sent out a melodious baritone farewell.

I will check up on the healers.” Elladan turned to leave the meeting. “I promised to help out there this afternoon.” He headed out of Arahad's house and walked toward the last circle of houses where the healers had commandeered houses for treating the injured. Simion outside one of the healing halls. The young man was trembling.

“Is everything alright?” Elladan asked.

“Hollis is about to pass away. I could not…” Tears rolled down the young man’s cheeks. Elladan put his arm around him in comfort. Hollis was Habert’s father and a dear friend to Arahad. The elder Dúnedain had trained and guided many in the ways of their people but had been hovering in the space between life and death now for several days. Elrond and Wusteir had operated three times, but the abdominal wound had breached the bowels and there had been to many tears. Elladan knew how heartbreaking it was to see friends and loved ones slip away. Simion was not quite twenty and was dealing with this for the first time.

“We are not god. We cannot save everyone. But you have helped make a difference in many lives. Keep that thought in your heart.” He whispered and squeezed the young man’s shoulder. “Is anyone keeping Hollis company?”

“Master Dúclaur is keeping a vigil while the others are away.” Simion said hoarsely. “Aragost had been sitting with Habert there all morning. They only left to get some lunch.” Indeed Aragost and Habert were hurrying back towards them.

When they emerged into the room, Habert’s mother was openly weeping. Elrond’s head was bent in prayer and he still held one of the man’s hand. But his other hand was drawing the man’s eyes closed. Hollis had passed from this life.

“I am so sorry for your loss.” Elrond’s managed to whisper hoarsely as tears escaped his own eyes. “Life is so very precious.”

XXxxxxxx Several days later

Simion washed his hands diligently and moved to his next patient. He carefully bathed the wound site and applied the healing salve. He was turning to retrieve the sterile bandages when a gentle voice startled him.

“Good work Simion.” Elrond praised. The young Dúnedain was a quick study and had mastered several techniques. It was quite surprising, given his lack of formal training. Indeed, the youth had only been studying with Wusteir for a few months. Wusteir, the settlement’s chief healer had never spent time in Imladris, although the senior healer had been mentored by others who had. Elrond resolved to have some healing texts copied upon his return to Imladris. Such resources could greatly aid the Dúnedain, as it seemed that much knowledge had been forgotten or not transferred to the next generation. Elrond supposed it was only to be expected given the fall of the northern kingdom. But it saddened him all the same.

“I surveyed the healing herbs and tinctures as you advised. There is no more poppy syrup.” Simion reported.

“And the leaf sources of anesthetic agents? Do we have any Datura, Mandrake or Willow leaves?”

“There is some Datura left but only a small amount of Willow leaves remain.” Simion advised. Elrond frowned slightly in worry. Datura was tricky to dispense and required close monitoring of the patient.

“Perhaps you can spend a year or two in Imladris to further your training. We have a large school for healers there and many people come from other villages, towns, and cities to train in our facilities.”

“I would like that very much. I have heard stories of the wonders of Rivendell.” Simion turned back to work on the bandages as Elrond made his rounds, surveying the handiwork of the other volunteers and trainees. It was much more difficult with Wusteir incapacitated and Elrond longed for the aid of Imladris' healing staff.

“At least I can train some of the Dúnedain.” Elrond thought to himself as he moved to intercept Serina. Dealing with the headstrong woman required some diplomacy. He moved to inspect the wound and sooth the obviously distressed patient. He let some of his healing energy flow into the injured elf as he assessed the incision site. “One must be quite gentle when removing the bandages. I think there is an abscess here that we must attend to right away. Can you find Taral or Elladan to assist us?” Serina nodded and hurried away.

It was several hours later when Elladan finished the surgery. Elrond chose the role of assistant, carefully mixing the Datura tincture and monitoring their patient’s vital signs. Elladan felt some nervousness at performing the procedure under his father’s scrutiny, but that was quickly dispelled by Elrond’s gentle words.

“You have drained away all the infection.” Elrond noted approvingly.

“Perhaps we can pack the wound with healing herbs.”

“Excellent suggestion.” Elrond praised. “We can keep watch and if no further signs of infection are detected we can close the wound tomorrow.”

“I can finish up here. Why not go and get some rest?” Elladan suggested, noting how drained his father seemed. Little wonder, considering how much of his healing powers he had been pouring into Elrohir.

“It has been awhile since I checked on Elrohir.” Elrond’s worry was clear.

“Cirulian is with him. He would seek us out if Elrohir showed any sign of distress.” Elladan was mindful that others were in listening distance and added the next comment mind-to-mind. “Go rest Adar. I worry for you as well.”

“I will be well, ion-nin. I have thrived for nearly six thousand years. You and your siblings have been my pride and joy.”

“Alright, Ancient One! It certainly must be time for a nap.” Elladan’s sarcastic tone led Elrond to chuckle as he left.

Xxxxxxxx

“Greetings my Lord Celeborn.” Glorfindel called out as he met the Galadhrim at the boarder of the settlement. The silver lord and Haldir rode first.

“Well met Glorfindel. Lead the way to my grandsons.” Celeborn ordered. “We have feared for their safety for many weeks now.”

“Foresight?” Glorfindel countered as he turned his Asfaloth towards the settlement. The path, which had a mere two weeks ago limited riders to single file, was now much wider, although brush and shattered trees and other debris littered it in places.

“Galadriel saw a battle.” Celeborn said tersely. It was not something he wanted to dwell on, for his beloved spouse had been beyond comfort for many hours after that vision. He had been glad that their granddaughter had been off meandering in the forest, as was her wont. Only the songs of the trees seem to assuage Arwen’s grief to any extent.

“Orcs passed through here.” Haldir commented. “The trees sang of their fear and worry.”

“None of the enemy survived.” Glorfindel reassured them. “I hope you bring food and supplies. We run low on healing supplies.”

“We have two well-trained healers with us as well as ample supplies.” Celeborn informed him.

Xxxxxxxxxx

“Jonas, come out little one. There is no reason to fear.” Elrond turned and smiled compassionately. He opened up his arms out wide. “Are your friends here too?”

“They are to scared to go out.” Jonas wiped at a tear and instinctively snuggled into the elf lord’s embrace. “Father?”

“Your father woke briefly. Come let us see if he is awake now.” Elrond picked up the little boy and crossed over to the third house where the boy’s father lay sleeping. “He will need some weeks to recover. But do not fear, given time he will be up and playing with you again.” Elrond stroked the man’s head gently, imparting a little of his healing strength to wake the man. Green eyes opened groggily.

“Daddy!” Jonas let out a big cry.

“Be gentle, little one your father is just waking.” Elrond was not sure if the man would be able to speak, but a voice gruff from disuse followed.

“Jonas, my brave son! Are you helping your Grandmother?” A cough shook the man's bandaged frame.

“Yes, Father.” The boy whispered. Elrond set him down so he could hold his father’s hand. The man expressed his thanks with a small smile.

“I need you to watch over everyone for a little while until I am well again.” The man whispered. His eyes were already closing. “I love you Jonas.”

“I love you Father.” Jonas whispered.

Xxxxxxxx

“He could have easily died.” Celeborn sent another prayer of thanks to Eru. It would be a long road to recovery but Elrohir would recover. The silver lord gently kissed his grandson’s head and held Elrohir’s hand as he slept. They had lived under unspeakable dread for the past month. Only after the wind’s message last week had he been able to relax.

“I have sent many prayers of thanks to the One for this blessing.” Glorfindel said solemnly.

“I trust Raudorn and Hihdant are already aiding the healers. Galadriel sent many supplies for them. I would bet that healers of men do not recognize many of the herbs.” Celeborn was not looking forward to teaching the healers and hoped that his skills would not be required.

“Master Dúclaur will be most relieved.” Glorfindel smiled slyly.

“Master Dúclaur?” Celeborn nearly snorted as realization dawned. So, his son-in-law was here incognito. “Well, it is better than ‘spark of a departed spirit’. I nearly went to retrieve my daughter when I heard the one who courted her also answered to Tinúman. It made me question his mental sanity. Who would think that an appropriate name! I feared he still obsessed over his lost brother.”

“Apparently Ereinion came up with that moniker.” Glorfindel laughed. Celeborn shook his head.

“None but you could have gotten away with naming him Dúclaur!” He laughed softly as his gaze locked with Cirulian. The Teleri’s promise to protect Elrohir was communicated in an instant. Celeborn nodded in thanks then rose. “Let us see about retrieving him.”

Xxxxxxxxx

"Where is Dúclaur?" Glorfindel asked Cirulian. The warrior was carrying a steaming mug and a recognizable parcel, which could only be lembas.

“He went with a child to the inner circle of houses. I am heading there now.”

“Nausea preventing herbs?” Celeborn inquired. Cirulian nodded. “We can bring that to him.”

“That would certainly arose suspicion if the Lord of Lothlórien sought out a simple healer.”

“Is he well?”

“It has been a taxing few months.” The warrior shrugged non-committally. “But he is well, just under great strain as one of few healers here. The healer’s from Lothlórien are most welcome and will give him a chance to truly rest. I think that Hihdant recognized him but Raudorn did not.”

“They both spent time training in Imladris. One would think that they would immediately recognize one who taught them! Where are the noted physician’s powers of observation?” Celeborn mused. The three elves exited the healing house and walked towards the most secure circle of houses. Melodies grew louder as they meandered through the town. A peaceful song of healing flowed forth. They recognized the gentle pitch of a harp and the rich voice of Earendil’s son, whose tenor spouted forth an ancient song of power in Quenyan verse.

“It is one of Maglor’s songs.” Cirulian gasped in recognition as they crossed into an inner playground. Many children were laughing and blowing through reeds that were wound into circles. A fairyland of bubbles floated around the children as men and women stood around them, drawn by the power and promise of the song. They could just make out the figure of the peredhel, sitting cross-legged in the circle of children. He stroked a crude harp, obviously one of Dúnedain origin, while a small girl danced behind him. She would stop from time to time to twirl his long dark hair into some type of braid. Children jumped and clapped, trying to catch the bubbles that were swirling around them. One boy was waving his reed, spilling the slippery solution over the other giggling little ones.

People swayed and sighed as they soaked up the healing song. Even Glorfindel and Celeborn closed their eyes and breathed in deeply, soaking up the wonderful imagery of healing gardens that the song brought forth. It truly was a wondrous tune, one that reminded Celeborn of Melian and his beloved Uncle Elu. All too soon the music faded and Elrond closed his eyes in exhaustion, little wonder as such songs of power required much strength from the singer. Cirulian meandered through the crowd and squatted near Elrond.

“More!” Children yelled as they frolicked carefree for the first time in over a week. Many had been too afraid to come outside before this.

“Again Du’Kar!” Shrieked a little boy who clapped gleefully at the bubbles. Aragost and Arahad moved to sit next to Elrond. Arahad carried a flute. Elrond passed the harp to Aragost. As the two Dúnedain started a duet, the children cheered, distracted by the lively music.

“Are you well, my Lord?” Cirulian whispered as he gently touched the Peredhel’s shoulder.

“A bit seasick.” Elrond whispered. He did look rather green.

“The tea will help.” Cirulian positioned the cup in Elrond’s outstretched hands. The elf lord thankfully accepted the brew but did not open his eyes.

“I suppose there are no mariners in your family.” The Teleri teased, causing Elrond’s lips to curve into a smile as he slowly sipped the tea. He listened contentedly as Aragost’s tune progressed. For their part, Glorfindel and Celeborn remained at the periphery of the crowd, unwilling to draw extra attention to the weary healer.

“Could you manage a few bites of lembas?” Cirulian coaxed, once his lord had finished the tea. Elrond shook his head and slowly nibbled at the waybread, relishing the slight strengthening it imparted. “Haldir has raised tents in the meadow. The Galadhrim healers are almost finished with their first survey of the injured. They were impressed by the efficiency of men and the young elven healer that they did not recognize.”

“Excellent news. Raudorn and Hihdant are capable healers.” A small smile broke on Elrond’s lips at that observation but he made no move to rise. The stress of his healing duties combined with lack of sleep and the symptoms of the sea longing had made eating anything other then the mild, odorless lembas impossible. The mere smell of most foods sent his stomach churning.

“Your presence has been requested by Lord Celeborn. I am to take you to his tent and deposit you in a bed. No need to share what little reserve you have with Elrohir this eve for he will watch over him this night.” Cirulian shifted to sit next to Elrond and pulled the healer closer. He was happy to note a rapid improvement in Elrond’s coloring.

“Your hair is too hard to braid!” The little girl behind Elrond protested. “Not even Mama has such long hair!” Elrond cracked one eye open, his eyebrows raised slightly.

“Perhaps just leave it loose.” He suggested softly. The little girl giggled and slowly unwound the braids. Elrond gave a long-suffering sigh to which Cirulian laughed. “Am I presentable?”

“Ah when people hear about this at home!” The guard exclaimed. Truly Elrond’s hair stood out voluminously. Elrond tried to manage a glare but ended in a smile as the little one hugged him from behind.

“Thank you for the song!” She called. Jonas was not to be out done and flung himself at the healer, nearly knocking him over in his enthusiasm.

“Thank you for the bubbles!” He yelled, and blew bubbles from the reed he was holding. Elrond had mixed the concoction up earlier in the day. “I love the songs!”

“It was a beautiful song. One that brought hope and healing not only to the little ones here but to all who listened.” Cirulian observed as Elrond slowly rose to his feet. He discretely put his arm around the healer to steady him. “Come, you have more than earned a rest.”

Xxxxxxxx Next morning

The sky had brightened to deep golden and the spring flowers were quite fragrant. He was thankful that the Galadhrim healers had taken over, affording him a brief respite. He had taken advantage of the help and turned in early the evening, while Celeborn tended to Elrohir. Having woke quite refreshed, Elrond indulged in an early run.

“Live well Eluchil.” The tree said in farewell. Elrond had spent some time this early morning visiting with the great oak. He sang goodbye and continued his run. Noises and cheerful voices of men filled the air as he crossed into the meadow, now cleared of the remains of the battle. Men had marked out a game field and he smiled in recognition at the Númenor game of football.

“We will take Dúclaur.” Aragost called gleefully as soon as he spotted Elrond emerging from the trees.

“He is an elf. Surely, he is unfamiliar with this game. It would take time to explain the rules.” The others looked appraisingly at the slim healer.

“You have Elladan. Surely, we deserve an elf as well. It is only equal.” Aragost reasoned. The others nodded in agreement. If Aragost wished to take an inferior player, so be it. They doubted the healer could be as skilled as Elladan.

“Have you played before?” Elladan asked his father curiously.

“I have played a few times.” The elder peredhel smiled slightly as his eyes flashed mischievously. Elladan found himself smiling in return. The idea of challenging his father was quite appealing.

“It is settled then.” Aragost said as he put his arm around Elrond and walked towards their goal, where the rest of their team was waiting. They young Dúnedain had never dreamed to be pulling the famous Lord of Imladris into the game. But still in disguise as Dúclaur, the elf Lord did not complain. “When did you play?”

“Many times in Númenor.” Elrond whispered.

“What position?” Aragost asked more loudly as he introduced Elrond to the rest of the team. It had been long indeed since the elf lord could participate in such games. The responsibilities of caring for Imladris had eclipsed such frivolous pursuits.

“Right forward.” Elrond smiled as Aragost gasped. The Dúnedain could not resist flashing a look towards where their opponents stood. Elladan was whispering to Habert. In fact it was Elladan, who had precipitated the game, which was designed to draw the grieving man out. It had been only two days since they buried the youth’s father. The last few days had been filled with memorial services for those who had died defending the settlement.

“Are you as fast as Elladan?” Aragost asked while the other players drew closer. Their excitement at securing a suitable replacement for Elrohir was palpable.

“I should hope so.” Elrond said easily. Aragost proceeded to dictate his strategy. As they moved to assume their positions, he noted that Elrond had wrapped his braids up an out of the way. It almost looked as if he was wearing his hair in a bun.

“You look like a girl.” He teased and ruffled the hair.

“Better that than risk being pulled down by the braids. I strained my neck horribly at the last match I played in. It was over a month before I could move normally.” Elrond shook away the memory.

“You really have played before!” Aragost shook his head in wonder.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

“How is Elrohir?” Glorfindel asked as Celeborn emerged from the healing house.

“He was awake and aware for about an hour.” Celeborn frowned. “He seems to on to road to recovery from a wound that could have all too easily been mortal.”

“We have lived with fear of their demise for the past month, ever since Elrond had a vision.” Glorfindel divulged, his voice now barely audible “I can only thank Eru that we not only arrived in time but that Elrond detected the moment the injury happened and wasted little time in cutting through the orc line to get to him.”

“It appears you have much to update me on.” Celeborn could only gape. Cheers and yells attracted their attention. Celeborn gestured towards the noise. “Should we see what are the Dúnedain doing?”

“It is some game – football, I think Elladan called it. In any case, the young men are blowing off steam.”

“Elladan plays?” Celeborn asked in astonishment.

“Yes, he and Elrohir seem quite enamored with the sport. He was trying to explain the rules to me last night. It seems that the men like to split the twins, so that each team can have its own elf.” Glorfindel chuckled slightly. “Aragost seemed to think it evened the odds. They were trying to convince me to join them today. I wonder who they hoodwinked into playing.” They followed the voices and shouts out to the meadow where a rectangular playing field was roughly marked out. At either end two wooden goals now stood. Runners were crisscrossing the field, moving and passing a ball with their feet.

“It appears to be a game where one is not allowed to touch the ball with one’s hands.” Celeborn observed.

“Except for the one guarding the scoring area.” Glorfindel corrected.

“That is the goalie. It is one to zero. Elladan scored the first goal.” Arahad supplied with a smirk as he watched his son sending signals from the corner where he was about to kick. Defenders were lined up between his son and his teammates. Seconds later he executed the perfect corner kick. The ball flew over the end defender’s head, which just happened to be Elladan. Glorfindel gasped as he saw a familiar dark head pop up over the other defender and deflect the shot towards the goal. Habert collided forcefully with Elrond in mid-air, but it made no difference. The goalie stretched to no avail in an effort try to block the ball, which sailed past and into the goal.

“Goal!” Aragost screamed in joy and dashed towards where Elrond and Habert had fallen hard on the ground. Both only slowly moved to rise, obviously stunned by the force of the crash. It was Aragost who pulled Elrond to his feet and embraced him.

“Excellent pass – perfectly placed.” Elrond praised.

“What a use of your head! You are crazier than Elrohir!” Aragost laughed and punched Elrond playfully. The match was even.

“It seems we are tied.” Elladan mumbled darkly, wanting to chastise his father for the risky maneuver. But after a second he caught himself and broke into a smile at the irony of his reaction.

“Not for long.” Elrond taunted as Aragost and Arasdor roared in approval.

“I had no idea that you and Elrohir enjoyed football.” Elrond said wordlessly to his son. It had been long time since he had played the game with his nephews and grandnephews. Elladan had switched positions with Habert and was now lined up facing his father.

“We thought you might not approve.” Elladan returned with a laugh. “Where did you learn to play?”

“I played often with Elros and his sons and grandsons. Although had I crashed into Elros, I do not think I would be standing now.” Elrond laughed silently.

“Who would have ever though the staid Lord of Imladris was capable of such things?” Elladan teased.

“Duty prevents me from pursuing such hobbies under the guise of Lord. But that never stopped me from playing with you when you were younger, albeit we were limited to less aggressive pursuits. Erestor and Glorfindel might both have heart attacks if they could see us. Neither realized that Glorfindel and Celeborn were watching fearfully from the sidelines.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Dúclaur and Aragost make an excellent pair as forwards.” Arahad laughed and slapped Glorfindel on the back. The Vanya coughed loudly, still amazed at his friend’s escapades on the field.

“One would think a healer would be more cautious.” Celeborn mused darkly.

“Sometimes I am amazed by how different life is for elves.” Arahad sighed deeply. He was obviously envious of Elrond’s youthfulness. “We can only dream of playing sports at such a level with our sons and grandsons.”

“You are nowhere near old.” Celeborn observed.

“Were I to play as hard as Aragost and Dúclaur, I would not be able to walk for days.”

“We shall see what effect this has on Dúclaur.” Glorfindel’s narrowed. No, he would not let Elrond live this down.

“The generations of men are always separated by age. But elves can interact with their sons and daughters, grandchildren and great grandchildren as on a level playing field. You can be equals in strength and ability for a long time. It is truly a blessing.” Aragost said as he observed Elrond and Aragost passing the ball down the field. He too had only thought of Elrond as the noble Lord of Imladris, when it was quite apparent that the peredhel was much more than that. “Then again to shoulder the responsibilities of leadership for millennium – perhaps it is not worth it.” The Dúnedain stopped speaking as the play on the field caught his eye. Arasdor had passed the ball laterally to Elrond, who proceeded to out maneuver Elladan by a clever turn to the left. Aragost had snuck further down field and the pass from Elrond was near perfect. The young Dúnedain bounced around Habert and took a searing shot at the goal. The strike sailed just to the upper left corner.

Glorfindel and Celeborn were entranced by the skillful display that both Elladan and Elrond demonstrated on the field with men. Small scuffles ensued as they fought for control of the ball.

“Surely, those elbows are not allowed.” Glorfindel whispered, grunting in sympathy as Elrond lunged for the ball, but Elladan was quicker this time and his shot was on target, sailing just above the goalkeeper’s head. Momentum carried Elladan into his father and the two fell gracelessly into a heap.

“Congratulations!” Elrond managed in between gasping breaths. “Excellent shot.” Elladan sat up slowly, smiling as he rubbed his left ankle and shin. His father still lay flat on his back. A soft sound drew his attention.

“Are you alright?” Elladan he looked over at Elrond in concern, which quickly fled when the laughter grew louder.

“I think I will have to sit out for awhile.” Elrond’s laughter continued. “I must concede victory to you. You have outlasted me.”

“Victory?” Elladan laughed lightly and extended a hand to his father to pull him up to sitting. But Elrond leaned over precariously and ended up propped up against Elladan, who reached behind him to loosen his father’s braids. “I think we are both tied. And it is time to remove this elleth-like bun! Who injured you by dragging you down by your braids?”

“My brother! The big oaf lost his footing! I had just managed to steal the ball.” Elrond said jovially in spite of everything, the memories of his brother always made him smile. “He forever kept apologizing.”

“I trust you both have had enough.” Glorfindel glared sternly down at them for a moment. But the Vanya broke into a smile when he heard their laughter.

“Your brother?” Aragost gasped aloud in surprise. “You played football with Elros Tar-Minyatur, our first King?”

“The Tar-Minyatur? The first King of Númenor?” Others whispered as the gathered around the two peredhil. Elrond grimaced slightly. It seemed that Aragost had unwittingly exposed him. He brushed himself off and stood, seemingly changing in stature before their very eyes. Elladan looked around at his friends among the Dúnedain. For the first time, the younger peredhel realized what a difficult task Glorfindel and Cirulian had undertaken. It seemed surreal to think of his father as such an unusual and historic figure, for it was only his Adar. But he could see in the eyes of the men gathered that his father drew their interest far too much. Elladan could sense their awe but also some ill will among them. Unfortunately, he could not pinpoint the person or persons responsible.

“Aye, my fine Dúnedain. I am Elrond Peredhel of Imladris. I thank you for the friendship you have extended to my sons. You are my kin and the doors of my home are always open to you.” A kind and honest smile played on his face. Many of the younger men gaped in astonishment at the true identity of the elf they had just competed against. Some of the bolder ones came up to introduce themselves. Several muttered embarrassed apologies about their rough play on the field but Elrond quickly dismissed their worry, quickly assuring them that he had thoroughly enjoyed the game. Sensing the Elf Lord’s openness, the young Dúnedain ventured with question after question about the now long past kingdoms of Númenor and the distant history of Arnor. Elrond both smiled and sighed inwardly at the short lives and memories of Men, for the memory of the northern kingdom was already dim in the eyes of these people. A lover of lore and history, Elrond relayed stories and descriptions of Númenor, now long lost, as well as tales of the fallen Kingdom of Arnor.

“My sons also visited the Annúminas. Did they not tell you?” Elrond smiled and relinquished the spotlight to Elladan. The younger peredhel shared tales of he and his brother’s time in Arnor’s capital city. Elrond watched and listened to his son with pride. Glorfindel and Cirulian stood nearby observing the exchange.

“He should no longer move among them freely. Post several guards to discretely follow him.” Glorfindel whispered to Cirulian. They too had sensed a brief but unmistakable malice. They were watching the small line of Dúnedain, who were waiting to greet the now unmasked, Lord of Imladris.

“Taral, Amatheir, and I have shared this task for several weeks. I suggest at least four guards accompany him at all times. Two visibly near and two on the periphery.” Glorfindel nodded in agreement with the suggestion. Cirulian then added in a low voice. “As if this settlement was not enticing enough with his sons here.”

“The sons are not the father.” Glorfindel noted. “They have not his legendary status.”

“The sons get in enough situations as it is. The scuttlebutt among the Dúnedain gives them a lofty reputation.” Cirulian did not mince words. “Did you sense any ill intentions when our Lord’s identity was revealed?”

“Aye, I did. It was a fleeting feeling. Aragost identified six relatively new arrivals. We should investigate them further. I would not risk allowing any assassin near.”

“Lord Celeborn will insist that Elrond remain in his tent. Haldir has stationed ample guards near.” Cirulian reported.

“Yes, we have lost far too many loved ones already.” Celeborn’s whispered words startled them both. Through his daughter, the silver lord had come to appreciate the quiet strength and kindness of the peredhel. “I would not have my son-in-law exposed to further danger. He has a generous heart and nature that could be easily exploited.”

“One would use his kind heart against him?”

“An enemy would exploit any weakness to achieve their goal.” Celeborn watched as the men dispersed jovially. Elladan and Elrond approached them. They were walking with Arahad and his son.

“Who watches over Elrohir?” Elrond asked in concern, for he had assumed that Celeborn remained there.

“Fear not, Taral and Amatheir are with him.” Celeborn said. “I was curious to see what the uproar was about. Imagine my surprise to see the you both in the middle of the fray!” Both peredhil had the good sense to look embarrassed.

“I believe my son was the instigator.” Arahad observed. His son beamed gleefully even as his father punched his arm. “And Imladris’ Lord can more than hold his own.”

“Some of us should be old enough to know better.” Celeborn said solemnly but ruined the effect with a smile. “Come let us check on Elrohir.” Their walk through the settlement was punctuated with laughter and good-natured teasing. When they came to the healing houses the elves and men parted ways for short while.

“We will join you later.” Arahad waved. He and his son walked among their injured warriors, stopping to chat and thank those who had fought so hard in defense of the settlement. The elves entered the end house, where Elrohir was. Taral updated them on his condition and Elrond moved to assess the sleeping figure of his son. Elladan and Celeborn drew in their breath at the healing glow that flowed forth from Elrond’s spirit. So great was it that Elrond grew visibly pale, but his eyes twinkled joyously as Elrohir’s silver ones opened.

“Ada,” Elrohir smiled as he woke to the warmth of his father’s healing powers and turned slight, seeking the comfort of his father’s spirit. “Ada, do not drain yourself.”

“Ion-nin, it is wonderful to hear your voice.” Elrond whispered.

“Thank you for following us here. I shudder to think what might have happened.” Elrohir trembled slightly but Elrond bent to kiss his brow as Elladan and Celeborn moved closer.

“I love you, my son. I would do anything within my power to keep you safe.”

“But it would not hurt if you also look out for your own safety.” His brother teased. “Did Glorfindel forget to teach you not to block a sword with your body?”

“Really Elladan, have you no shame?” Arahad cut in. “It is I who am in your debt Elrohir. That blow was meant for me.”

“No arguing about who is to blame.” Celeborn interjected, cutting off any more of the pointless argument. “It was the enemy that dealt the blow not any of those here. We give thanks to the One that so many have survived this onslaught.”

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Elrond toweled off and pulled clean tunic and leggings. The evening air was pleasantly cool. His spirits were far lighter than they had been in months. His sons were alive and Elrohir would be well enough to transport home soon. Another thought surfaced that made him smile. Yes, he had thoroughly enjoyed the game yesterday. It was unfortunate that his identity had been revealed, for he would have enjoyed playing again. But that was now out of the question, as Glorfindel and Celeborn were in agreement that such escapades placed him in far too vulnerable a position. In any case, they were now making plans to depart within the next few days.

“Are you well?” Celeborn’s eyes had not miss the dark bruises, which adorned Elrond’s right side.

“Aragost is no doubt off celebrating.” Elrond merely shrugged, dismissing the Silver Lord’s concern

“Come!” Celeborn ordered. “I will check your ribs and judge for myself if you are well.” Celeborn grasped Elrond firmly by the shoulder.

“I assure you it is nothing serious. Elladan has substantially more bruises. I tended them earlier. It is just the nature of the game. ” Elrond sighed and followed Celeborn to his tent. He knew all too well that his father-in-law was going to ask for an account of the last few months. This might be a long meeting.

Xxxxxxxxx

“Why will your father not join us at the head table?” Brellina asked. Arahad walked over carrying some drinks and a plate of fruit.

“It would not be appropriate to point out an elven Lord’s illness. So I ask you to not repeat this. My father is still recovering from the events of the last year and can only stomach weak broths and food that do not have a strong aroma. I fear that a table so close to the cooking hearth would make him very ill.” Elladan divulged honestly. “We worried that he would fade once Naneth sailed. Their bond was deep and they had been married for nearly two thousand five hundred years. I only hope to experience such a marriage bond someday.” Arahad squeezed his wife’s hand and gave thanks in his heart that they had been blessed with the opportunity to try to work out their differences.

“I had no idea that elves experienced illness.” Arahad whispered as he handed his wife a steaming mug with her medicine.

“Elves and men have much in common.” Elladan smiled. “And perhaps we half-elves or half-men even more so. It has always been both my privilege and pleasure to know you and your family through this age.” Brellina reached over and tousled the young elf’s hair.

“I find it hard to imagine that you are that much older than I am. In some ways I think you are similar in age to my son Aragost.”

“Perhaps now.” Elladan teased. “But I trust you did not think so but a few short years ago.” They all laughed at the memory of the little boy’s escapades in his first years in Imladris.

“I heard that my father was much worse during his time of training in Imladris!” Aragost protested as they all laughed.

“Ah, but we should get back to planning tonight’s gathering. It is not often that we celebrate our good fortune at having elves of Lothlórien and Imladris among us. You will depart all too soon.”

“Yes, but hopefully we leave in the knowledge that your people are safe.” Elladan paused and smiled slyly. “At least safe until Elrohir has recovered and we both return for another visit.”

“You will always be welcome among us.” Aragost affirmed and then added. “Especially as teammates on the football field.”

Xxxxxxxxx

“My Lord Elrond, I was wondering if I could speak with you on issues of commerce.” André was a heavy-set man who handled all the settlement’s trade agreements. “Had I known earlier that you were among us, I would have approached you sooner.” Elrond smiled inwardly as he felt both Taral and Cirulian stiffen beside him. He knew they had been looking forward to the feast but were bound by duty to stay near.

“Perhaps we can speak tomorrow on this issues.” Elrond said diplomatically. “I have already invited several of the healers for extended visits to continue their training. We can surely exchange other skills and wares as well.” Cirulian led them to one of the outer tables, situated furthest away from the outdoor hearth where the Dúnedain were cooking several whole wild boars on spits. Cirulian and Taral sat on one side of Elrond while the rest of the table was filled with Arahad’s council. The seating arrangements were a compromise between safety issues and their Lord’s current battle with the sea longing, as the pungent aroma of the cooking boars might well trigger additional nausea. Elladan, Celeborn and Glorfindel were included in Arahad’s table at the center of the feast. They had not been adequately appeased by the seating arrangements and worried that it gave the appearance that Elrond was being slighted. Elrond as usual smoothed over any worries and inquiries with a smile. Arahad asked him say the blessing at the beginning of the feast. Brellina hobbled over and gave him a fierce hug and a kiss. All bowed their heads for the blessing of thanksgiving, which evoked more than a few tears. Then Arahad raised his glass in a toast.

“To friends, both old and new, who have arrived in our time of great need. We thank the One for gifting us these precious connections to you and wish you a safe and speedy journey home.” Arahad clinked glasses with Elrond and all drank. Then he and Brellina moved among the tables greeting others before finally settling back at the head table.

“Your idea of spreading out the elves among the tables was truly inspired. It will spur many new connections between our people.” Celeborn clinked glasses with Brellina and Arahad. It had been long indeed since he had any connection with the heirs of Valandil, not since the battle at Fornost. The elf lord fondly remembered that trip nearly an age past when Galadriel, Celebrian and he had traveled with Elrond to Annúminas for Valandil’s coronation.

“We hope this evening will spur a greater understanding among our people.” Arahad said. For a moment Celeborn could see Arahad's strong resemblance to his renowned ancestors.

“We should cooperate and share information to help insure all our safety.” Celeborn suggested. In Lothlórien they had already discussed the possibility of giving the Dúnedain’s representation on the White Council. Celeborn found himself amused by the prospect of regular visits with these descendants of King Elendil.

Dinner was a joyous occasion. The boars only provided a small sample of meat for each person, as so many were gathered. But the bounty of food that the Galadhrim supplied gave an unusual and varied meal. Elladan was enjoying a rich vegetable chili accompanied by warm loaves of bread, freshly baked with the flour supplied from Lothlórien. While Glorfindel preferred the roasted boar with vegetables as he savored the heavy and flavorful Dúnedain beer. About halfway through the meal, musicians appeared and lively music filled the night. It was music, which had once accompanied the royal dancers in Annúminas. Although the beautiful halls of that great city were no longer, the spirit of this great people was undimmed. Soon elves and men were drawn into the circle of dancers. The tradition of Ladies’ choice, passed down from a time before even Númenor had been established, was alive and well. The women of the Dúnedain drew their guests into the dance, thankful that the intervention of the elves had saved them and their families from an unspeakable fate. The night was filled with a joyous celebration of life.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

“Why would the One bless me with such an intolerance for ale and Elros the opposite.” Elrond silently lamented as he rubbed his temples. The headache was already building, though he had only had half a glass of the watered down ale. The music did nothing to help his situation. Neither did André, who continued his conversation in ignorance of the half-elf’s discomfort.

“Master Dúclaur.” The little boy’s voice was soft and shook slightly as he approached uncertainly.

“Here child.” Elrond set down his glass, grateful for the interruption. The boy could be no more than five or six. Elrond recognized him as one of the children who had frolicked in the bubbles.

“My sister Lissa is ill. Mama worries that she drank the bubble mix.”

“That would not make her ill.” Elrond smiled slightly. The boy squirmed agitatedly and frequently looked over his shoulder.

“You must come see her. She is very hot. Mama said you would come.” The boy’s eyes glanced around frantically. Elrond noted that the boy’s gaze strayed to a man who stood unobstrusively in the tree line. It was not anyone that he recognized.

“What is your name? Have I met your Mother?”

“My name is Sassan. You must come now.” The boy pulled hard on Elrond’s hand, obviously seeking to get him to rise. It would have brought a smile to Elrond’s face but for the fearful expression on Sassan’s face.

“Glorfindel there is a problem at this child’s house. He says his name is Sassan.” Elrond called wordlessly. “A dark haired man at the left edge of the square is observing us.”

“It could be a trap.” Glorfindel noted worriedly.

“How could it not be a trap? I believe these may be the enemies who have infiltrated the Dúnedain.” Elrond returned. “But the lives of this family are at stake and we have a chance to catch the spies.”

“I would not have you go alone into danger. Do you even carry a weapon?” Glorfindel returned.

“I do not but I expect you to! Follow us. Identify and neutralize the enemy.” Elrond turned his attention to the boy but kept his mind open to Glorfindel.“Your sister’ illness might be contagious. Are there many people in your house who have been in contact with her?” The boy nodded fearfully.

“Many” was all that the boy could manage. “Please come now.”

Although soundless, Elrond could feel the presence of Glorfindel nearby. He knew that the elves had overtaken the two men that had followed them from the feast. He would have turned back had not the door to the house opened and a women stepped out. Her face was taut with worry and a man stood close behind her. Elrond could nearly taste the evil that covered the place and knew instinctively that the man held a knife to the trembling woman’s back.

“Sassan is that you and Master Dúclaur?” She asked in a shaking voice.

“We are here, my lady.” Elrond replied, trying to think of any way to delay their entrance into the house.

“Hurry, Lissa’s fever is high.” She shouted in panic and immediately ushered them inside.

“Be careful Elrond, we will be but moments behind you.” Glorfindel’s message came silently. He felt Elladan, Celeborn, and others approaching under the veil of darkness. There would be only a minute or two before they would descend upon these foes. But they had barely crossed the threshold when Sassan cried out. Elrond lifted the boy in response to the little one’s shout of pain. He felt a dart pierce his own shoulder and he spun out of the way of the advancing warriors. The other elves were upon them instantly. The clash of swords was accented by the shrieks of the woman and her children. Elrond had crouched out of the way, frantically accessing the boy. His own senses were strangely muddled and he sank further to sit upon the floor. The dart had pierced the child’s arm and the boy was crying uncontrollably. Elrond quickly pulled the dart free. The tip was covered in the boy’s blood as well as a dark oily substance. Elrond sniffed carefully at it then pulled the little one closer as he tried to assess his condition. The rapid beat of the little one’s heart was slowing unnaturally. Its pace sent fear through Elrond’s strangely foggy brain. A poison or sedative meant to incapacitate an elf might be highly toxic for one so small. As he considered the possible agents, he let his healing energy flow into the boy.

“Elrond?” Glorfindel was bending over him in concern as he saw the soft glow pass into the child. Elladan and Haldir were checking the premises for others as Habert and Cirulian secured the area. Celeborn was bending over the dead man, who had apparently mastermind the incident. Arahad and his son were comforting the hysterical woman and her two small daughters.

“Some tranquilizing agent.” Elrond’s words were slightly slurred. He reached over his shoulder and pulled awkwardly at something. The child in his arms had already gone limp. Instinctively, Glorfindel moved to assess his friend. Elrond held out two thin darts. Their tips were coated with red and some unnaturally dark green substance.

“Numb, dizzy, slows the heart, leaves a bitter taste – perhaps crude aconite or opiod or mellart root. Take the child directly to Hihdant. The dose on this dart is likely high enough to be toxic to one so.” Elrond’s voice trailed off uncharacteristically as he closed his eyes to the seemingly spinning world. It was a few moments before he continued brokenly. “Could put him in danger. Tell Hihd.”

“Ada?” Elladan leaned forward fearfully.

“See to the child.” Elrond whispered so softly the Elladan could barely hear him.

“Elladan, this vial perhaps holds the agent.” Celeborn handed him the vial as Glorfindel picked up the child. The Silver lord bent down and gently lifted his son-in-law. The elf Lord’s dark head fell forward as he lost his battle to stay conscious. Glorfindel transferred the boy to Elladan’s outstretched arms.

“Transport him quickly to the healers, Elladan. I will see to your Adar.” Celeborn ordered. Elladan nodded numbly and carried out the order. The rushed trip to the healing house passes in a blur.

“Hihdant, my Adar worried this child may have received a toxic dose of a tranquilizer. He guessed crude aconite, opiod or mellart root.” The healer gasped and took the child from Elladan’s hands. The room was filled with noise as he shouted orders. Then all went suddenly silent as the noted healer focused on assessing the boy’s condition. After what seemed like an eternity, the healer looked up.

“I have a vial that likely contains the mixture he was exposed to.” Elladan whispered as he produced the vial with the green paste. Raudorn took the vial immediately for analysis.

“The greatest danger is that his heart will stop.” Hihdant’s serious gaze focused on Elladan as he gave his next order. “Monitor his heartbeat while I mix a draught to counteract the effect of these agents on the heart.” Elladan nodded and moved to the sit near the boy.

“Do we know how much entered his system?” Raudorn called back.

“It was coated on a dart.” Elladan mumbled as he focused on the child’s slowing heartbeat. The next two hours passed agonizingly slowly. At one point the boy’s heart stopped. Elladan pumped his chest for several minutes while Hihdant aided his breathing. They both said a prayer of thanksgiving when the little heart regained its slow rhythm.

“Life is precious.” Elladan whispered reverently as he stroked the small head.

“It is a miracle – one of the mysteries of Iluvatar.” Hihdant agreed as they both sent their silent prayers of thanks to the One for sparing this precious life.

“Can this mixture also be toxic to elves?”

“It is quite potent and would most definitely incapacitate an elf for between four to six hours. But it should not be toxic to elves only to the hearts of men.” The healer noted.

“And peredhel?” Elladan whispered automatically.

“Lord Celeborn would have sent word immediately if your Adar was in any danger.” Hihdant grasped his hand supportively. “Opiads, much like our purified poppy tea, do cause hallucinations and disorientation, which dissipate once the drug is cleared from the body.” The healer stopped when he realized that he did not have Elladan’s attention. “Go check on your father. The boy is out of danger.”

Xxxxxxxxxx

“Is that all that happened in the last six months?” Celeborn added sarcastically. Glorfindel merely rolled his eyes and held back his laughter. They were relieved that the only effects of the tranquilizer mix appeared to be ill dreams and a deep sleep, although Celeborn still monitored Elrond’s pulse from time to time.

“I do believe Turgon and the Valar will owe me a great deal of extra compensation when I finally return to Aman.”

“You jest Vanya! It was your choice to return. I bet Aman was much too boring for your tastes. You crave the excitement and wonders of Middle Earth.”

“Perhaps, although I do find the constant stress of these past few years to be wearing on me. I would have enjoyed finishing my ale and relaxing for the end of the feast.” Glorfindel smiled slightly. “Perhaps sleeping draughts could be employed on other occasions.” Celeborn laughed aloud. Elladan entered the tent and immediately relaxed upon hearing his Grandfather’s laughter.

“Ah, but because of our enemies’ miscalculation, we will leave knowing that this settlement is safe and all the spies have been dealt with.” Celeborn said approvingly. “Elladan, have no fear. Your father will be fine come morning. How does the child fare?”

“It was a few anxious hours but Hihdant says the child is out of danger now.” Elladan reported as he took his father’s hand in his own. His father’s brow was creased as if he were fighting something in his dreams. But his heartbeat was steady and strong. “How could it not be? Adar is a survivor.” Elladan thought as he breathed out in relief and admitted softly. “We have been less than supportive since Naneth sailed.”

“Combative even from what I gather from Glorfindel.” Celeborn said sternly, although he was heartened to see that his grandson looked away with guilt filled eyes. His voice softened automatically. “We have time to change and to rectify our actions. Perhaps Galadriel and I should have stayed longer to help for we saw how drained your father was after your Naneth sailed. But we also needed time to grieve. Each of us deals with grief in our own way. We have lost her for a time. But we hold fast to the hope that she will be healed and that we will all be reunited.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Haldir startled at the slight sound of the tent flap closing. He quickly scanned the area, which was blanketed in darkness. Dawn would brighten the sky in another hour. Haldir’s keen eyes barely caught sight of the lean dark figure that darted towards the trees. He immediately gave a signal to Orophin and then rushed off in pursuit. The wind swirled around him and somehow retarded his progress. The gap between him and the retreating figure widened. There was no mistaking the telltale hair and build of the elf in front of him. Haldir called softly, trying to get the elf lord to turn. He shivered when the dark figure pivoted and stared defiantly at him. The silver eyes held such daunting power and flashed with the controlled anger of a mighty warrior. This was not the gentle healer and Lord of Imladris that confronted him, it was the proficient warrior that led the famed High King’s forces for thousands of years. Elrond’s eyes held no recognition and seemed to bore into Haldir, burning into him in an effort to discern if he were friend or foe. Haldir was wise enough to know that even unarmed, Elrond was a formidable opponent. He instinctively stepped backwards, dropped his sword, and held his hands up high to signal that he was a friend. He recalled an old directive from Celeborn that advised elves to speak calmly in the high tongue when confronted with such situations, for an enemy would never use that language.

“My Lord Elrond, it is Haldir. I mean you no harm.” Haldir said slowly in Quenya and backed up slightly as Elrond drew to full height. A cry nearly left Haldir’s lips when he bumped into Glorfindel, who had awoken at the sound of the tent flap closing. Elrond tensed noticeably as Glorfindel appeared, for now there seemed to be two foes before him.

“Peace Elrond!” Glorfindel called and stepped towards him slowly. “It is I, Glorfindel. All is well.” The silver eyes flashed dangerously at first then mirrored sudden uncertainty. Proceding with careful non-threatening movements and a gentle smile on his face, the golden warrior reached over and touched Elrond’s arm. The Vanya let out a hiss at the power that seemed to burn him momentarily. Then a soothing, healing force followed as recognition dawned in the silver eyes.

“Glorfindel?” Elrond’s voice still held his uncertainty but Glorfindel pulled him into a warm embrace.

“All is well, Elrond. It is just an effect of the drug. Do you remember?” Glorfindel said calmly.

“The boy?” Elrond’s voice shook slightly.

“He is well thanks to your quick diagnosis and warning.” Glorfindel soothed.

“Hihdant and I cared for him. His heartbeat has returned to normal and he sleeps now.” Elladan said as he approached. He carried a warm cloak and draped it around his father’s shoulders. “Come let us go inside.”

“No!” Elrond said more loudly than intended. Elladan held his hand in support and long moments passed as they waited for Elrond to explain. Finally, the elf lord admitted in soft tones. “I cannot hear the trees.”

“I would enjoy listening to their songs as well.” Elladan declared as he squeezed his father’s shoulder.

“Then let us remedy that. We can go sit near the trees.” Glorfindel said as he guided them over to the tree line while Haldir hurried to rearrange the positions of the guards. The three chose to settle at the base of a tree, which was bursting with spring blossoms. Celeborn approached with a tray of steaming mugs.

"It has been a long time since I watched the sunrise surrounded by family and the song of the woods." Celeborn declared as he passed around the tea to Elladan and Glorfindel. Then he handed the remaining mug to Elrond. "I hear from Glorfindel that you watch the sunrise far too often."

"Sunrise always fills me with hope." Elrond lifted his cup in thanks.

Glorfindel and Elrond sparring at dawn.

The crash of swords was a jarring counterpoint to the exquisite, graceful dance of the gold and dark warriors, for the noise belied how strong and deadly these warriors truly were. Celeborn set his own sword down and watched, appreciating their flawless technique. Then he began his own series of stretches, in preparation for joining the sparring session. A familiar gasp behind him betrayed the amazement of his grandson.

“How long have they been practicing?” Elladan yawned.

“Since the first blush of light graced the sky.” His grandfather smiled. “From the stories I have heard, it often used to be your Adar, Glorfindel, and Erestor who met regularly for hundreds if not a thousand years to spar each morning.”

“Erestor?” Elladan repeated in disbelief.

“I would suggest you never anger the chief councilor.” Celeborn smiled. “Glorfindel, do you need help?”

“Approach from the left.” Glorfindel called back a little breathlessly. Celeborn smiled slyly and then whooped loudly before jumping into the fray. Little did he know that thousands of years ago, the three sparring partners had practiced defensive tactics for just such a two on one predicaments. Glorfindel anticipated Elrond's next move, for they had practiced it for centuries. But Celeborn did not and Elrond quickly turned to his left and jumped out in front of his father in law, effectively placing the silver lord in the center. While Celeborn focused on meeting and parrying the unusually high volley of the peredhel, he did not detect the foot that unexpectedly hooked his own. Nor did he expect Elrond to suddenly step forward, crashing their swords together high even as he pushed his father in law backwards into Glorfindel. Elrond’s two opponents soon found themselves in a heap on the ground.

“Now is where one makes their escape or runs for help.” Elrond called to his son. His voice carried a teasing tone as he turned, dashed to the nearest tree, and leapt gracefully into its branches. “One might be able to take on two orcs; however, two ancient, consummate swordsmen from the first age is another story.”

“Who are you calling ancient!” Both his opponents protested in mock outrage. In response, Elladan deftly slipped passed them and positioned himself under the tree. He held his sword at ready as he declared with bravado.

“Have no fear, Adar! You do not stand-alone. I am honored to fight beside you.” They were such simple words, but they were a balm to the Elrond’s tattered spirit. And the peredhel, much embattled in these past three years, lithely jumped from the tree and landed lightly beside Elladan.

“In that case,” Elrond laughed. “What are we waiting for?” They moved to stand together and proceeded to bow to their opponents. Celeborn and Glorfindel followed suit and moments later the dark figures deftly battled gold and silver. Their guards drew closer out of curiousity, for it was rare to see such agile, equally matched opponents. Nearly and hour passed before they resolved their match and declared it a draw.

"I find myself in great need of my morning ablution." Celeborn declared and the rest heartily agreed.

Elladan beat them to the river and quickly bathed. He dried off and pulled on a clean tunic and took a deep drink of water from his canteen. Elrond, Glorfindel and Celeborn were just entering the river to bath.

“Really, Glorfindel, you could at least ask the guards to keep their distance.” His father grumbled as he quickly ducked under the water. Elladan scrutinized his father, only now marking how the elder peredhel seemed to take respite under rich tunics and cloaks. His father was an inch shorter than him and bore more signs of their mixed heritage, not surprising given his three eighths of Edain blood. “Adar seems modest, almost shy, about bathing in public.” Elladan mused. He was somewhat surprised that he had not noticed it before. As sons of such unusual parents, he and Elrohir had always attracted much attention and admiration.

“What are you pondering there so seriously?” Elrond said as he toweled off and quickly dressed. Elladan handed him the canteen and Elrond sat patiently down next to his son. It took Elladan a long while to voice his thoughts.

“We almost lost Elrohir.” He whispered.

“Your brother is out of danger. Several months of healing and rehabilitation lie ahead. He will be fine.”

“But we could have easily lost him. I could not imagine life without him.” His voice fell low and from where they were toweling off, Celeborn and Glorfindel could barely hear his next question. “How did you bear to be separated from your brother? How did you find the strength to go on alone?”

“Elladan, you are strong. You have your Naneth’s strength as well as her adventuresome spirit.” Elrond put his arm around his son and pulled him closer. “We all face the mountains that life puts in front of us. I did not do it alone. I was sure that I would not survive my brother’s passing. But my adoptive family and close friends cared for me and helped me through it. Several years spent among the Avari also helped me regain my balance and enthusiasm for life.”

“Adar, how did you make your choice?” Elladan studied his father closely. He was surprised when his father face softened.

“When the time comes for you and Elrohir, perhaps it will be your choice. Or perhaps you will be asked to serve a higher purpose and your only choice will be to accept it or not.” Elrond paused to carefully consider his words. For he had only ever shared this with his beloved Celebrian, to whom he had given himself completely. “Elros always asked for me to stay together with him. I did not think I would be strong enough to chose otherwise, although my heart and nature had always been strongly tied to elves.”

“But you chose. You did not stay together.” Elladan had read many accounts of the Maia’s declaration of his father’s choice. Glorfindel had longed guessed what had passed in the Eonwë’s pavilion ages passed, but never had anyone broached the subject with Elrond. “You chose to be counted among the elves.”

“I was asked to do this. I was fortunate that it was also the choice of my heart. But when we went to stand before the Maiar, we had not known that there would be any choice involved. We thought of ourselves as peredhil. Elros guessed that we would live a few hundred years. Maglor could not tell us any differently. Never would I have guessed that I would be blessed with over five thousand years.” Elrond paused remembering the scene. “Imagine our shock and surprise when we were summoned to the Herald’s tent. Eonwë said we were kin from afar and as we carried Maiar blood we also were servants of the Valar. From somewhere above us, we heard the voices of the Valar. They said they were pleased with our parents and that our tasks still lay before us. Perhaps you, Elrohir, or Arwen will be asked to serve someday. Your choice might then be a simple yes or no.”

“I read.” Elladan started but his father interrupted with a smile.

“Books may only reveal part of the story. That time was tumultuous. In any case, there seemed little need to interject when what was asked of us seemed a natural extension of our own spirits. Eonwë looked directly at Elros when he stated that one of us was needed to serve the Edain – to lead them and establish a Kingdom of Men. Elros bowed and humbly accepted the task.”

“Without any question?” Elladan stammered in astonishment. Celeborn and Glorfindel also drew closer, both amazed by the revelation.

“Well we did both protest their decision that Elves and Men be separated.” Elrond smiled slightly. “It was frightening at that moment to imagine that we would never see each other again. We had traveled independently but had spent much time together. We could share our thoughts and speak over great distances. Luckily, we still enjoyed many years together and were not truly separated until Elros’ death.”

“You were strong and endured that parting.”

“Not without a great deal of help.” Elrond paused for a long moment until Elladan prodded him to continue.

“And you? What did they ask of you?”

“They asked me to serve the Eldar and the peoples of Middle Earth. Something I agreed to, as you well know.” Elrond smiled and ruffled Elladan’s hair. “Perhaps they will ask something of you as well. Your Naneth considered it a strong possibility.”

“Naneth?” Elladan stumbled over the word in amazement.

“You do not think we married without discussing these things in our courtship?” Elrond raised an eyebrow to accentuate his statement and a mocking smile played out on his lips. “I may enjoy the life of an elf but it was important to talk about my heritage as a peredhel. The idea that my beloved might one day regret our marriage because of this heritage, was ever in my mind.”

“What did she say?” Celeborn was intrigued at hearing another side of his beloved daughter.

“She said that we could not read the future, and if the One were to bless us with precious elflings, we would care and treasure them for whatever time we were fortunate enough to be gifted with.” Elrond cleared his throat softly and wiped a tear from his eye. His heart was achingly empty within his chest. As he remembered her sparkling eyes and infectious laughter, he thought. “I have never come close to being worthy of her.”

“She was very wise.” Several voices agreed.

“How could she not be with such parents!” Glorfindel said as he grasped Celeborn’s arm gently. The silver lord’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Elladan was unabashedly weeping. Elrond’s hand was clutching his tunic, as if he were in pain. Indeed, the great lady had been cherished as a daughter, wife, and mother. The three noble elves before him, grieved deeply for her loss.

Xxxxxxxxxx Elrohir’s perspective.

The day’s blurred together in Elrohir’s mind. His waking days consisted of only an hour or two. He remembered several heart to heart talks with Elrohir and also with his Adar. He vaguely recalled the presence of his grandfather too. The pain was at times unbearable and subsided after someone, usually his Adar or brother, coaxed poppy tea into him. But the disjointed reality blurred with dreams. Now, he realized that gentle hands were probing his injuries. The telltale healing warmth announced his caregiver.

“Ada.” He whispered, not yet able to open his eyes.

“There is much healing here, Elrohir.” His father’s gentle voice called to him through his hazy senses. Warmth and healing led him back into reality. He opened his eyes and focused on the loving smile that had ever been his father.

“I am going to turn you slightly to massage your back and legs. Then we will see about sitting you upright.” Elrond waited until Elrohir nodded in understanding. The next half hour held a blissful peace as Elrond’s warm hands gently but firmly manipulated his back and legs, which tingled in response. Elrond smiled at his son’s soft sighs of contentment. One of the dangers of lying for long periods of time was the risk of developing bedsores. The movement and massage helped to lower the risks of such inactivity.

“How are you feeling, Elrohir? Can we sit you upright?” Elrond asked as he continued to assess his son.

“Yes Ada.” Elrohir replied in a soft voice, which reminded all in the room of the elfling he had been. Celeborn aided Elrond as they gently lifted the sorely wounded elf, who immediately paled at this change of positions.

“Breath slowly, young one. The light-headedness will pass.” Celeborn encouraged.

“How long has it been?” Elrohir gasped. All understood that he meant since he was injured.

“Three weeks.” Elrond soothed. “You are recovering well. In a few days we will leave for home. I hope you will sleep through much of that journey. It will take several months to regain your strength.”

“Months?” Elrohir said dazedly. The young elf had his share of broken bones but had never felt so helpless as now. Tears suddenly welled at his eyes, much to his chagrin. But the effects of the healing draughts left him little control. Celeborn pulled him close and stroked his hair.

“The medicine causes disorientation and some anxiety. Do not worry. I will escort you safely home.” Celeborn promised. “All will be well.”

Indeed it was just a few days later that the elves departed from the settlement. The Dúnedain turned out in full to see them off.

“Save journey my friends.” Arahad called. The elder chief stood close to his wife and son. “May Eru bless your journeys and keep you safe until we meet again.”

“Take care, Elrohir.” Brellina reached up to grasp the injured elf’s hand. He was resting comfortably in his father’s hold. “I expect you to be whole and well the next time I see you.”

“You take care also.” Elrond answered for his son. “With rest and those rehabilitation exercises, you should also be in fine form within a few months time.”

“I am fortunate to have a wonderful husband and son to look out for me.” Brellina responded giving Arahad a one-armed hug. Her words brought smiles to all those around. Elrond’s horse merely snored.

“I think we are trying Celthúl’s patience.” Glorfindel laughed as he kissed Brellina goodbye and mounted Asfaloth.

“That horse has no patience.” Elladan quipped as he brought his own horse closer. Celthúl eyed him in suspicion. “Perhaps you should let Elrohir ride with me.”

“Your father favors a wild spirit in his mounts.” Celeborn noted.

“Elladan, you are certainly not winning Celthúl’s regards with comments like that.” Elrond chided then softly encouraged his spirited stallion. “Thank you for bearing us, noble Celthúl. My son is injured and will need a smooth ride.” A few minutes later, they were off and traversing the winding path that led up and out of the valley. The day passed quickly. Elrohir only woke once in his father’s arms. In the afternoon, Celeborn and Elladan took turns transporting the sleeping elf. By dusk they had scouted out a secure campsite and preparations were made for an evening meal.

“Three tents should be enough to house the injured. Most others will prefer to sleep under a blanket of stars, especially as the weather warms further.” Celeborn mused as the cook handed him and Glorfindel a bowl full of a rich vegetable chili.

“I have never seen such a fine meal on the trail.” Glorfindel praised.

“Taste it, my Lord.” The Cook smiled. “I hope you will find its flavor pleasing as well. I have also prepared a light vegetable soup as you requested.” The cook guided Glorfindel to inspect a small pot that was simmering near the campfire. Glorfindel leaned over to sniff at the aroma and found it to be pleasant and mild.

“Thank you, that will be perfect.” He praised. Then he joined Celeborn and indulged in the wonderful chili paired with hearty bread.

“Elrohir improves daily. But he and Elladan are both tormented by what happened.” Celeborn observed.

“Healing will take much time. How does Arwen fare?” Glorfindel was one of many who worried for the young elleth. The light had faded so quickly from her eyes and her father had found himself powerless to assuage her grief. It was Elrond, who with a heavy heart, had suggested that she seek solace in the Golden Woods. Although the trip to Lothlórien was quiet and uneventful, Elrond was much grieved on the return journey, for none of his children had chosen to accompany him home. The twins had gone off seeking vengeance.

“She grieves yet. Mostly she wanders around the golden woods seeking both solace and the healing songs of the trees.”

“In that she is much like her Adar.” Glorfindel told him of Elrond’s sanctuary in the one Mallorn in Imladris.

“It is good to know that the songs of the Sindar and the call of the forest are part of Elrond’s nature. Arwen seeks the same peace in the forests' remnants of the first music.”

“If only the twins would seek to heal their grief in such a way. Their quest for retribution puts them ever in harms way and destructive to their very souls.”

“Yet, it is understandable and they have not withdrawn from others like their sister.”

“Have they not?” Glorfindel countered but Celeborn only shrugged.

“Their hearts need time to mend. Already I see small steps forward and a reconnection with their father.” Celeborn mused. “Hope is there and they are brave and noble and are maturing. It is a difficult trial. But they will emerge stronger in the end. Much like their father they will not turn away from their duties and responsibilities.”

It was a good half hour later when Glorfindel transported two bowls of the soup to Elrond’s tent. Elrohir’s bandages had already been changed and the injured elf was basking in the warmth of his father’s healing gifts. Elladan was sitting behind him and they were chatting animatedly.

“Elrond, you should not overtax yourself.” Glorfindel chided, good-naturely. The peredhel moved back from his perch by Elrohir.

“Yes, Adar.” Elrond replied in a dutiful tone, although he expression was mocking.

“Such insolence.” Glorfindel sighed as he passed Elrond a bowl. “Eat up child.” The twins were both snickering in delight.

“As you wish, most ancient one.” Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a glance that conveyed their mutual joy in having distracted the younger elves for a little while. Glorfindel turned his attentions to Elrohir.

“Now it’s your turn Penneth.” Glorfindel smiled deviously. “For with your brother’s help we shall feed you like a baby.” Elladan laughed aloud.

“I will help raise your head!” He positioned himself behind Elrohir and slowly drew him up to sitting.

“Well at least I will get a real meal for a change.” Elrohir grunted. “Even if I must endure such treatment.”

“Ah, Penneth, it is no trouble and there is nothing to be embarrassed at.” Glorfindel moved to spoon a bite of the soup into Elrohir’s mouth. The injured elf obviously savored the simple broth.

“Delicious.” Elrohir said softly as he gratefully accepted more. “Though I can not wait until I can do this myself.”

“It takes time for muscles to heal and regain your strength. Is this traveling causing you much discomfort?” Glorfindel asked as he waited patiently for Elrohir to swallow and respond.

“A bit but nothing in comparison to the first week after the injury.” He took another bite. “It feels good to finally be out of that room! I look forward to returning home.”

“We look forward to having you home.” Glorfindel laughed and looked around expecting Elrond to comment. But it was Elladan who laughed softly instead.

“Glorfindel, you better move that bowl before Ada ends up with an uncomfortable surprise.” Both Elladan and Elrohir were amused by the sight of their father slumped fast asleep against their travel packs. The bowl of soup was perched precariously on his lap.

“I can not believe that he fell asleep while eating.” Elrohir exclaimed.

“It runs in your family.” Glorfindel chuckled at a memory, while he moved the soup bowl from its potentially hazardous position. “Your grandfather was a bundle of energy who would keep going until he collapsed. Most memorable was the time the little boy fell asleep in the middle of a meal. His face was plastered with the yellow mush. Yet still he slept.” The twins looked at him for a moment in confusion, for they could not imagine that Glorfindel had known Celeborn as a child and then it dawned on them about whom Glorfindel was speaking.

“Earendil?” Elrohir gaped. “The famous mariner fell asleep in his food?”

“The very same.” Glorfindel laughed lightly as he maneuvered Elrond into a more comfortable sleeping position and covered him with a blanket. Glorfindel proceeded to enlighten them with stories of their grandfather's antics. “Now it is time for you to also rest, Elrohir. Elladan, you will come with me to get some dinner.”

“Bossy Vanya.” One of the twins teased. But Glorfindel only smiled in delight as he and Elladan eased Elrohir into a more comfortable sleeping position.

“Sleep well, Penneth.”

The Imladris guard had been doubled in Elrond’s absence. The more demanding schedule made for ill tempers, although only a week had elapsed since their departure. Erestor estimated that they would be gone nearly two months. In addition, without Vilya’s presence a family of wolves had entered the valley, making it necessary to post guards near the children’s play area and curtail lone excursions. They had dealt with these things before, actually for over a thousand years. Indeed, when the twins and Arwen were little, Elrond had not yet wielded Vilya for Imladris’ protection. But somehow, Glorfindel and Elrond had devised more efficient methods to bar dangerous wildlife from the valley. He had charged some of his aides to search the library for those notes. Right now Erestor was enjoying a quiet breakfast hidden in the corner of the hall. He hoped to avoid the crush of complaints and requests that would soon overwhelm him.

“May I join you, chief councilor?” Silsilalda politely inquired.

“Not so loud, you will bring doom upon me.” Erestor countered as he slowly sipped his morning tea.

“Ah,” She chose the seat that would shield Erestor best from view. “Things never do seem to run as smoothly in Elrond’s or Glorfindel’s absence.”

“We split the responsibility so that no one has to handle everything.” Erestor spread some of the tart apple rhubarb jelly on the last remaining bit of bread. Then his eyes lit as his own words sank in. “Thank you for help, dear Silsi. That is a tremendous idea.”

“What have I helped with?” Silsi stared at him in confusion. But Erestor merely smiled, his mood markedly lifting.

“And you, Mistress Healer? How can I help you?”

“I received an answer to our request to the Havens.” Silsi smiled. “It seems I need to request rooms for a delegation, due to arrive towards the end of next month.”

“Well better late than never.” If possible Erestor’s eyes brightened further. “That will be a wonderful surprise for Elrond. I only pray that they all arrive home safely.”

“They will.” Silsi said firmly. “In this I have no doubt.”

Xxxxxxx Nearly three months later.

The furthest outpost had sent messages by pigeon several days ago. So, Erestor had prepared for their arrival. Indeed it seemed as if half of Imladris had turned out to greet the returning elves.

“Can you see them yet?” Alma’s voice shook with excitement. Her husband Amatheir had accompanied their Lord on this dangerous mission. Silsi and a team of healers stood ready to receive any injured.

“The excitement is palpable.” Erestor commented to Silsilalda. His face carried a rarely observed sweet smile, which Silsi thought made the councilor look absolutely boyish.

“It is never easy watching the people you love ride off to danger. People have spent the winter worrying about their friends and loved ones.”

“Yes.” Erestor whispered. His eyes suddenly welled with emotion. He loved the twins like his own children, who were spending this decade learning the customs of their Avari grandparents.

“I see them!” One of the children shouted joyously. Indeed, it was Cirulian who led the line into the Valley. People cheered and called out as they saw their spouse or son or friend. It was not long until Erestor spotted Elladan and Glorfindel. They rode up to meet him. Elrond followed. He carried Elrohir in front of him on Celthúl.

“Elladan!” Silsi and Erestor coincidentally called out as one. Silsi blushed slightly and Erestor continued. “Glorfindel! You are both well, I presume.”

“Yes, I am well but.” Elladan began but halted in mid sentence as Erestor hugged him and Silsi finished his though.

“Elrohir is injured.” Silsi motioned some of the healers forward. But it was Glorfindel, who had dismounted and quickly approached the temperamental black stallion, who neighed impatiently.

“Thank you for bearing us, Celthúl. I will bring apples later.” Elrond praised softly as he handed Elrohir over to Glorfindel. The injured elf did not stir.

“How is he?” Silsi ventured as she moved to assess the sleeping elf. Other healers quickly approached those with injuries. Elrond dismounted slowly, stiff from holding his son on the long ride.

“I pushed him deep into healing sleep. We were running low on herbs.” Elrond stretched gingerly. Erestor could see the worries and strain of the long ride mirrored in his friend's eyes. Erestor stepped forward and welcomed him home with a warm embrace.

“It is good to have you back in one piece.” Erestor teased but added. “We were all worried for you.”

"I am glad to have my sons safely home." Elrond said softly.

“Shall I take Elrohir to his room or to the healing hall?” Glorfindel asked as Celeborn joined them. The silver lord bent to stroke his grandson's head.

"He will be more comfortable in his rooms.” Celeborn answered. “He will not be venturing far from his bed for awhile yet.”

Xxxxxxxxx

“Sleep well, Penneth.” Celeborn whispered and blew out the candles. Elrohir was safely ensconced in his bedroom. Elladan had left a short time ago to raid the kitchens. “Now to rescue Elrond.” Celeborn mused as he thought of Erestor and the rest of the council’s dogged requests. “Could they really not rank things in order of importance?” He proceeded down the corridor towards the administrative wing. At least the conference room was vacant. That was indeed a good sign.

“Ah, Erestor, are you finished for the evening?” Celeborn startled the serious councilor, who appeared to be reorganizing papers.

“Lord Celeborn.” Erestor said in surprise. “Welcome! Yes, Elrond dismissed the meeting nearly an hour ago.”

“I trust all is well?”

“Yes, things ran relatively smoothly in Elrond’s absence. Although some seem to refuse to accept a ‘no’ from anyone other than Elrond himself.” Erestor sighed. “In any case, Elrond was tired and retreated to his study. He asked to not be disturbed.”

“I am sure that he will make an exception for me.” Celeborn smiled smugly.

“Of course, my Lord.” Erestor nodded, smiling wryly. For Elrond could not refuse to see his father-in-law. Celeborn continued on to the large carved doors that marked Elrond’s private study. It was quite rare that these were closed for Elrond always made time for whoever needed advice or attention. Celeborn let himself in, as his knock produced no response. The room was bathed in candlelight, for dusk had long since passed. There was no sign of Elrond in the room but the terrace door was ajar. Scanning outside he recognized Elrond’s form softly illuminated by the rail. The wind sang joyously in greeting. The trees songs were deeper but no less melodious and even the waters of the falls and the Bruinen sent their welcome. He immediately knew that this was Vilya’s doing and the ring was reestablishing its connection to the valley. But the kindness and love that was also extended was distinctly due to Elrond’s spirit. Knowing better than to disturb his son-in-law, Celeborn located a decanter of Miruvor and two glasses. Then he silently moved out to the terrace and took up a seat, which afforded a clear view of the peredhel’s visage. The Celeborn called to his wife, communicating their safe return and sharing with her the events of the day.

“The Valley calls for Vilya’s and Elrond’s attention.” Celeborn worried. “So near am I that I can hear it.” Galadriel listened intently and then acknowledged.

“It is not yet a demand, but it will become one. Lothlórien already has this dependence on one of the three. Elrond was wise to wait employ Vilya until its use became a necessity.”

“As we are closer to evil’s lair, it became a necessity much earlier in Lothlórien.” Celeborn observed. It had been a big disagreement between them. But it was not five hundred years into the third age when evil encroached on their boarders. Nenya had offered a way to protect both their boarders and their warriors. But it came at a price, for now the golden woods were dependent on Galadriel wielding the ring. The use of this power drained the bearer and with each use the ring wove itself deeper into their spirits. Celeborn could see the changes; however minute they were. Sometimes he felt angry that Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad had forced this responsibility on two of those that he dearly loved. More than an hour passed with Celeborn speaking quietly to his wife as he watched his son-in-law closely. Indeed Gil-Estel had just appeared in the sky when Elrond returned to himself. Celeborn expected Elrond to be close to exhaustion, but somehow the songs of the valley seemed to strengthen the half-elf slightly.

“Elrond, come join me for a glass of Miruvor.” Celeborn called out. The Peredhel turned, and his eyes clearly mirroring his mixed emotions. “Returning to the valley you have so loved without the one you treasure must indeed be a difficult.”

“We made thousands of years of joyous memories here. I have stored them up to lift my heart against the coming trials. But, dealing with grief does not become easier with each loss." Elrond's voice was ragged. "Bereavement has it stages and it takes time before one is able to move beyond it. Our children are experiencing it for the first time. It has been difficult for them to stay in Imladris. Her hand shaped so much in the valley. One can not venture far without a reminder of her love. But home is where we were together and without her it does not feel like home anymore.”

“You both opened your home for so many. Let those who love you fill some of the emptiness in your heart until it is time for you to be reunited with Celebrian in the West.” Celeborn raised his glass in toast. “To our loved ones in Aman.”

“To Celebrian and all our loved ones in Aman.” They clinked glasses and Elrond found himself swallowing back a lump in his throat before he was able to sip the Miruvor. “This land calls so intensely to me. I find I can almost not fathom life elsewhere even though the sea calls.”

“Is it bearable, this sea-longing?” Celeborn inquired. “Most sail as soon as they hear it. But you heard it an age ago, did you not?”

“At times it is unbearable and I also feel the call of the wind. Both fight for my attention. Often I can keep them at bay with a walk in the wood. Sometimes I can hear snippets of the songs of the Ainur.” Elrond admitted softly. “I sense we elves are living here on borrowed time. It is not mine to question the will of the one, but the richness and diversity of these lands is something I have always treasured.”

“I listen for the forest songs also, as did your great, great Grandfather, Elu Thingol. As Sindar, we draw strength from nature’s songs. But unlike that lost kingdom, which like Lothlórien looked with suspicion on outsiders, you have done a great service in providing a place for and encouraging interactions between the diverse peoples of this land.” They each savored a glass of Miruvor as the spoke of the valley’s future. “Galadriel senses we have succeeded in holding back the shadows again. She predicts a short watchful peace for the next yen or two until the darkness attempts more attacks.”

“We will strengthen our alliances and search for signs of the enemies movements through the White Council.” Elrond promised determinedly.

“Lothlórien will support the addition of Maiar and men to the elven council. I cannot promise that the other elven realms will do likewise. Should they not support this suggestion, I know that you will be quite persuasive at our next gathering.”

“The elven realms only extend so far. Men and Maiar can be our eyes and ears in other parts of the world.”

“I would not mind more regular interactions with the Dúnedain, perhaps once a yen or so. They are quite entertaining.” Celeborn mused as he finished the last of his drink and rose. Elrond's eyebrow inched up in amusement.

“The Dúnedain would not consider a meeting once a yen to be regular.”

“Ah, yes, again it is a matter of perception and time. The differences between men and elves are sometimes as interesting as our similarities.” Celeborn guided Elrond out of his study and towards the bedrooms. “Elladan and Elrohir are natural ambassadors to the world of men. Perhaps they can visit the Dúnedain in line with men’s expectations for ‘regular’ meetings. Then we can convene the council in according to the elven definitions of ‘regular,” and keep more frequent correspondences. It would give the twins ample opportunity to tune their football skills without placing undue burdens on the rest of us.”

“They would enjoy that.” Elrond agreed as they stopped in front of his door.

“A little too much.” Celeborn laughed and squeezed Elrond’s shoulder. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” Elrond returned as Celeborn headed off to his rooms. The silver lord passed Arwen’s room. Then slipped into Elrohir’s room for a few moments. The younger elf was sleeping peacefully. Finally he made his way to the guest room and settled in for what was to be a too short night, for he woke well before the dawn.

“A book is perhaps in order.” Celeborn thought. He decided that browsing the shelves in Elrond’s study might be easier than traversing the greater distance through the dark hallways to the library. The glow from the candle in his hand danced joyously, casting intricate shadows on the paneled walls. He was happy to pass the closed doors of Erestor’s study. “There was another elf who worked far too hard.” He mused as he gently opened the ornately carved doors that marked his destination. He was surprised to find a candle burning on the table near the fireplace and crossed over to the couch to investigate. Elrond was nestled fast asleep on the couch. A comfortable pillow and a well-worn blanket were a few of many signs which indicated that this was not a rare occurrence.

“I will have to consult with your sons to see how we can alter this situation.” Celeborn smiled to himself as he silently turned to leave.

Xxxxxxxxxxx Days later

“Do you think he suspects?” Elladan whispered.

“Erestor and Glorfindel have done an admirable job keeping your Adar away from here.” Celeborn noted as he looked up from the pot he was painting.

“It is not that difficult given the amount of work he needs to catch up on.” The Mariner decided. “In any case, why would he come out to this workshop?” They had almost finished staining the two chairs and the quilting society had already finished the new bedspread as well as the cushions for the chairs.

“Silsilalda will come later with the plants.” Elrohir repeated for a third time. He was again yawning deeply, an effect of the healing draughts. No one was surprised when he drifted off to sleep.

“All this planning has been good for your brother. It keeps his mind off of his own injuries.” Celeborn observed as Elladan grinned in agreement. A quiet knock announced Erestor’s entrance.

“Erestor, have you set your plan into motion?” Celeborn inquired.

“I have arranged a meeting for tomorrow to plan the second round of planting for the beginning of the summer season.”

“Deathly dull.” Elladan quipped but was rightly admonished by the chief councilor.

“It may be dull for one who does not plan for the future. But I assure you it is a high priority. For planning at this stage of the season leads to a plentiful and nutritious diet for our people throughout the year.” The councilor bit back his more scalding comments on Elladan’s lack of knowledge, not wanting to chide the elf in the presence of his grandfather.

“Yes, it is an important duty.” Celeborn smiled slyly. “And will it definitely keep Elrond away from his room for the duration of the day?”

“Most definitely.” Erestor agreed.

“Then tomorrow is the day.” Elladan announced as the others cheered.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

“I am impressed with our efficiency.” Anorlach announced before he took another bite of the roasted asparagus soup. The twenty elves surrounding Elrond at the head table were dressed in clothes meant for work in the fields. They had spent the morning surveying the fields that had already been planted in the spring and explaining their plans for crop sequencing. Alternating or rotating the crops that one planted on any given field was an ancient practice that helped to add nutrients to the soil and enable continuous planting. Unfortunately, severe spring rains had washed away precious soil from three of the far fields and efforts were underway to stabilize these areas. Even Elrond was a bit dusty from their survey of the eroded areas.

“You all have done an excellent job. The afternoon decisions should be much easier.” Elrond commented before lifting another spoonful of the soup to his lips. It was one of his favorites and Cook seemed to be watching gleefully from the corner of the room. Elrond waved over the talented cook and complemented him the use of the lemon rind and tarragon, which contrasted perfectly with the leek and asparagus base.

A child’s screech made those still in the hall gasp. Elrond quickly rose and moved towards the commotion. A small elfling skidded away from her Adar in fear and collided with a serving table that held an ornate vase. The vase toppled with a crash. The child screeched, this time clearly in pain, and darted through hands that were attempting to catch her. Her father was shaking his fist and yelling while shaking his poor wife vigorously.

“It is your fault. You and that worthless wench.” The ellon yelled. His eyes held a wildness and anger that far outweighed the small incident.

“Do not allow an accident to take on more significance than it is worth.” Elrond stated firmly as he stepped in front of the couple. The ellon’s eyes held a darkness he recognized. It was a mixture of exposure to the black breath and battle fatigue. The ellon before him did not seem to recognize anyone. Tears flowed down his wife’s cheeks as she trembled with fear. Her pained expression told that the pressure the ellon was applying would soon snap bone.

“You will not take us.” The ellon’s hand moved to his side in reflex as if to draw his sword, but of course he had none as no weapons were allowed within the Hall. Glorfindel and Cirulian drew up behind the couple with ease, as Elrond had captured the ellon’s full attention.

“Stand down now Galadhrim! I am Lord Elrond of Imladris. You are in the Haven of Imladris. There are no enemies here.” Elrond commanded loudly. His voice carried the weight and power of a mighty Lord, who was used to being obeyed without question. The whole of the room fell silent. The ellon was caught in Elrond’s powerful glare. “You are hurting your wife. Release her.” The Ellon obeyed silently. In a flash, Glorfindel and Cirulian had subdued him, while Elrond quickly moved to see to the weeping elleth on the floor.

“My Lady, are you injured?” Elrond whispered softly. The traumatized elleth reached out and he moved to comfort her as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Maldir, what are you doing here?” Haldir approached.

“Marchwarden?” The ellon murmured dumbly, his eyes still glazed with anger, which was slow to dissipate.

“He appears confused.” Glorfindel whispered softly. “Did he come with you?”

“Maldir was released from duty nearly six months ago. There was an incident with his patrol as the scouted areas beyond our borders."

“Galeithel?” Haldir bent down to where the elleth was sobbing into Elrond’s shoulder. He and Elrond exchanged pointed glances as the Lord rubbed soothing circles on the distraught elleth’s back.

“I had assumed Maldir was in the healing halls in Lothlórien.” Haldir grimaced. “Or at least he was not four months ago.”

“And the elfling?” Elrond was immediately concerned about the child’s whereabouts.

“Galchen.” Haldir thought for a moment. “I believe that she is six or seven.”

“Can you escort Galeithel to the healing halls? There is a small fracture in her forearm.” Elrond whispered. Haldir startled at this information. “Silsi will know how to care for her husband. We have seen far too many cases of such battle fatigue.”

“Galchen!” The elleth cried as she suddenly remembered her daughter. Her eyes darted frantically about the room.

“My lady, fear not, I will seek out your daughter. Would you please go with Haldir?” Elrond entreated calmly. The elleth’s fearful blue eyes met his and after a few moments she nodded. Haldir helped her to rise, mindful of her injured arm. Elrond exchanged a few words with Glorfindel and Cirulian then crossed back to the table where Anorlach and the other planters were seated.

“Will you please excuse me, while I attend to this matter.” Elrond asked politely. The group of elven cultivators was not surprised by their Lord’s consideration and caring.

“Of course, my Lord.” Anorlach reassured him. “We will draw up some suggestions based on our discoveries from today and perhaps plan to meet tomorrow morning.”

“An excellent suggestion- until tomorrow then.” Elrond turned and exited the busy dining room. The act of stepping into the hall immediately reduced the noise and distraction. He focused and listened as he traversed the hallway, which was half opened to the courtyard.

“The child ran that way.” A nearby tree sang.

“Over here. She was crying.” Said another. He crossed over to the main wing and saw a drop of blood on the floor. Looking up he saw the balcony filled with seating for those enjoying a book from the library.

“A child after my own heart, seeking comfort in among the books.” He mused as he entered the building and climbed the stairs to the library's grand entrance. It was easy to follow the small sobs to a table hidden in the corner.

“Little one, are you hurt?” Elrond bent low so his eyes were level with the elflings. The fearful eyes and tear stained faced spoke volumes. “I am a healer, dear one. Come, let me see your cut.” He coaxed gently, knowing well that reaching under the end table would only frighten the child.

“I broke a vase.” The little one sniffled. “Adar is angry.”

“Plates, dishes and vases are just things.” He paused and smiled. “Things can be replaced. But an elfling like you is a priceless treasure. You are a gift from Eru.”

“A treasure?” The little voice repeated softly. “Like gold?”

“Ah, you are much more valuable than gold, little one.” Elrond smile and sat down on the ground. “Does your name not mean light? Your parents love you very much, but your Adar is very sick. We will help him to get better.” He could see the elleth processing this information. It would take a little while to gain the child’s trust. Elrond’s gentle voice relayed a funny story.

“Sick?” The girl finally ventured.

“He was hurt when he was away with the warriors.” Elrond explained, for how would an elf child from Lothlórien understand sickness? “Did you get hurt by the sharp pieces of the vase?” The child nodded slowly.

“We should care for your hurt too. We elves can get sick after we get hurt.” The little one considered his words.

“You will make it better?” The small voice finally asked.

“I will make it better.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Elrond said solemnly. The elfling observed him quietly as if to discern whether he was telling the truth.

“My wife and I were blessed with three precious little elflings.” Elrond sighed softly.

“Can I play with them?” The little one asked hopefully.

“They are all grown up now. I miss their little elfling smiles. Perhaps I could see one of your smiles?” A small smile formed tentatively on the little face.

“I know where some of their old toys are. Do you like animal figures or puzzles or blocks?”

“I like to build towers.” The little one admitted shyly.

“We can stop by my study and I can care for your cut. Then we will see about those blocks.” Elrond moved to kneel. “Will you come with me?” The little one climbed shyly out of the hiding space.

“Ouch, that must hurt.” Elrond said sympathetically. For he could see that there were several shards stuck in the tiny hand. He opened his arms wide. “Come, let me care for you, Galchen.” Trust shone in the little girls eyes. “I will not let anyone hurt you.” He picked the little elfling up gently and tried not to sigh when tiny fingers wrapped themselves in his braids. He let some of his healing energy seep into the child to calm her as they walked slowly to his study.

“Elrond?” Erestor interrupted as he saw Elrond heading back towards either the family wing or the administrative offices and suddenly worried that his Lord might pass by a certain room. “Where are you going?”

“Ah Erestor, I have rescheduled the meeting with the farmers for tomorrow morning.” Elrond shifted the golden haired elfling in his arms. “I have a small patient to tend to. Then we need to go to the healing halls to see her Naneth.”

“Is everything alright?” Erestor voice rose slightly in apprehension. He had planned the meeting to talk about aspects of the harvest, knowing full well that this group would occupy most of the day.

“It will be.” Elrond paused. “Do you know where the twin’s box of wooden blocks went off to?”

“Blocks?” Erestor repeated in a puzzled tone.

“Children’s toys.” Elrond motioned to the far too quiet elfling in his arms. The child had buried her head in the folds of Elrond's robe, too shy to look at Erestor.

“I can locate them and send them to the healing halls.” The chief councilor's voice was gentle. "My dear elleth, you are in the best of hands. I hope you feel better soon."

“Thank you, Erestor.” Elrond turned his attention back to the child. He kept his voice tender and light. “Now let us take care of that hurt.”

Xxxxxxxx

Both Silsilalda and Glorfindel smiled at the sight of their Lord carefully transferring the sleeping child to lie next to her Naneth. The half-elf did not realize he was under observation and proceeded to pull the soft blanket around the pair. As he stroked the golden heads, a soft glow passed from his hand.

"My Lord?" Salia interrupted his contemplation. The maid deposited a box of toy blocks in the corner of the room. She was immediately moved by the sight of the sleeping mother and child. "I heard about the incident today. Perhaps I can stay and look after them."

"Thank you Salia, that is very generous of you. Galeithel and Galchen will need friends here." Elrond was heartened by the Salia's offer. The newly arrived elves would need all the love and care that the community of Imladris could supply.

"It is my pleasure, my Lord." Salia smiled and squeezed his hand. "I think Lady Silsilalda is looking for you." Elrond turned to greet the chief healer. She gave Elrond an update on Maldir's condition and they both went in to check on the elf. When the finished the moved out to Silsilalda's private study where they found Glorfindel waiting for them.

“I will post guards on Maldir’s room.” Glorfindel suggested, still dissatisfied that the Galadhrim would be housed in the healing halls instead of someplace more secure.

“He is sedated now.” Silsilalda had dealt with this type of mental instability after each war. Yes, battle fatigue mixed with possible exposure to the black breath would account for the elf’s actions. “We will not give him any choice about taking regular medication. The Aethelas also appears to have calmed his fears. Galeithel and her daughter are now in healing sleep. They will need much support and counseling in the coming months. I fear the three of them traveled to Imladris alone. It was not an easy journey.”

“I think it would be best to move his wife and daughter to the main house for safety.” Elrond thought aloud. “I will talk to Erestor about finding appropriate rooms for them. There are several families with elflings in the south wing. Perhaps the company of other children would help Galchen to feel safe again.”

“Speaking of your chief councilor. He is likely already at dinner. There was a request that you dress appropriately.” Silsilalda held back a smirk at Elrond’s rumpled, dusty tunic. There was no need to comment on the wet spot on the shoulder, which was most likely drool from the sleeping child that he had just returned to her Naneth’s arms.

“Come, I will escort you back.” Glorfindel commanded. Elrond’s questioning look made him explain further. “I will need to speak with Cirulian to make the necessary arrangements. Taral will remain here.”

Xxxxxxxxxxx

“He is coming. Quiet!” Elladan whispered urgently. Elrohir lounged on the great bed, now covered with a green and white quilt that sported an intricate leaf pattern.

“Surprise!” They all yelled as Elrond entered. The shock made him jump. The look on his face was priceless.

“Do not lean against the wall Glorfindel! The paint may still be wet.” Celeborn called urgently.

“What?” Elrond managed to mumble as Celeborn led him to the bed, which was now situated in a direct line to the sunny window. Indeed the entire room had been rearranged.

“Awakening with the warm summer sun will surely be a nice change after the cold of this past winter. I directed and led this effort!” Elrohir proudly proclaimed as he pulled his father over. “Do you like it Ada?”

Elrond was so stunned by the transformation that he was momentarily speechless and could only nod 'yes'. They had truly drawn the outside in and had chosen some of his favorite plants. He even recognized several that were native to the Havens and Mithlond. A small exotic palm tree was situated in a huge pot by the window, obviously in anticipation of its slow and steady growth. The greenery was juxtaposed nicely with the light mocha colored walls. Although the walls were still drying pictures were laid out in groups on the floor. One wall would soon be filled with pictures of their family and included the family portrait that used to hang in Celebrian’s study. Several tears escaped Elrond’s eyes and Elladan drew protectively near.

“We relocated Naneth’s vanity chest to Arwen’s room. Surely, you should have something more manly.” Elladan declared in an exaggeratedly deep voice.

“Arwen will like that.” Elrond whispered. His voice choked with emotion. The extra space was used to enlarge the sitting area, and it was only now that Elrond recognized the two who were ensconced there.

“Laeste! Cirdan! You arrived unannounced?” Elrond exclaimed in amazement.

“Elrond, it is good to see you!” Laeste smiled. A beautiful white cat mewed its annoyance as Laeste set it down so that she could rise to embrace the now grown elfling that she had looked after two ages ago. “I am so sorry for your loss, dear one. I was not able to make it to the Havens in time to see you.” Elrond hugged her back.

“Is that one of Selig’s descendants?” Elrond whispered in astonishment. “Would the surprises never cease?”

“Indeed it is. I could not come without a gift. She is just over a year old. A very belated begetting day gift for you.” Laeste kissed his cheek. His sons whistled gaily.

“Ada, I did not know you liked cats! Lady Laeste has treated us to such stories!” Elrohir exclaimed. Joy filled his still too weak voice. For a moment the twins seemed again to be elflings, who delighted in everything.

“Greetings Elrond.” Cirdan rose from the chair and grasped Elrond by the hand. After a quick embrace, the gruff mariner had pulled Elrond down to sit beside him. The cat jumped up onto the top of the backrest and Elrond was careful to sit forward, although it was not long before the curious cat was batting at the shiny black braids. Shortly after that the cat decided to claim a seat on Elrond’s lap. The peredhel whispered something to the animal in a low voice and the cat purred in approval. The low table in front of them was filled with a selection of fruits, cheeses and breads. The Mariner studied Elrond carefully.

“You look better than you did at the Havens. I have heard rumors that the sea calls you.” Cirdan stated curiously. He knew few who could withstand the call of the sea for any length of time. Elrond’s loss would be a serious blow to the white council and to any alliances with Gondor and the Dúnedain.

“I push it out of my mind as much as possible. For I have two sons that need minding.” Elrond smiled as he tried to deflect attention to his sons, but Elladan protested.

“We need minding! Did you know Adar is very skilled at playing football? It is a game that originated in Númenor.”

“A game!” Celeborn countered. “It is a battle on the field!” He and Glorfindel launched into a description including their view of the dramatic header that Elrond had scored on. Cirdan and Laeste listened with wide eyes. Elrond was unsuccessful at fighting off a blush, a fact which Laeste gleefully drew attention to by caressing his cheek.

“Ah, elflings! I bet you did not know that your Adar blushes so prettily!” Laeste’s declaration was met by a hearty guffaw. The door opened in the mists of this teasing, and Erestor and Silsi entered bearing trays with glasses and several decanters. Both their hearts lifted when they saw the peace that had settled on Elrond’s features. He had obviously been laughing and was stroking the lounging feline contentedly.

“We have to make some joyful new memories in here.” Erestor declared as he passed glasses to everyone.