Post by Admin on Jan 2, 2021 22:19:54 GMT
Author: sehellys
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: A dreadful storm turns the twins return to Rivendell into a dangerous mission. Luckily they can rely on their little brother to brighten even the darkest night.
Rating: PG
Dark clouds were rolling over the edges of the canyon walls surrounding the last homely house, quickly drowning out the evening sunshine. Elrond looked at the clouds with worry.
It would still be a while before the rain reached them and even then the force of the storm inside the village was sure to reach only a fraction of the force it would undoubtedly unleash over the plains. Estel, who was helping Glorfindel attend to the horses in the stables, would get home long before the rain would start to fall within the valley.
It was not Estel that he was worrying about.
His elven sons, out on a patrol with the rangers, would doubtlessly feel the full wrath of the storm. Worse, they were supposed to return this night. Elrond could do little but hope that they would find shelter to wait out the storm and stay safe.
-o0o-
The gathering clouds were dark, ominous, granting a glance at the terrible weather that had to be raging outside the protected borders of Imladris. Glancing up at the sky for a moment longer, Glorfindel wondered how long it would be before the rain started to fall.
Not long now. He and Estel would have to return to the house soon.
Glorfindel turned around and headed back into the stable. He passed the empty stalls of the twins’ horses and absentmindedly patted Asfaloth’s nose when he passed by the stallion’s box. Asfaloth had been very pleased indeed by the visit from his rider and the little human that always snuck him pieces of sugar. If there was anything the noble horse liked better than receiving well-deserved attention, it was sweets.
Again Asfaloth lifted his head and sniffed Glorfindel’s hand as if to assure himself that there were no more treats hiding in the elf’s hand.
Glorfindel had to smile at the antics of his mount and continued deeper into the stables. Estel was seated on a hay pale in the last box to the left. A box that hadn’t been used for horses in many long years.
Instead it now housed the local cat population.
The feline creatures appreciated the constant warmth in the stables and the ripe mouse hunting grounds. The stable master, in return, was grateful for their help in protecting the horse feed from rodent infestations. He had started feeding the mousers centuries ago and they had gracefully accepted the invitation to move into the stables as permanent residents.
Currently, small kittens populated the box, delighting in diving into the hay and chasing each other around the legs of the small human that watched them intently. Estel had been asking to see the kittens ever since he had heard of their birth almost two months ago, but the older elves had thought it wise to wait until the kittens were a bit older. Now that he had gotten his wish he had been playing with the kittens for a good three hours without showing any signs of tiring.
The kittens mesmerized him and Estel delighted in stroking their soft fur and evading their tiny paws when they tried to catch his fingers. Every pounce of a little cat was accompanied by his excited giggles. Glorfindel found himself smiling again. The young human had surprised him with his calm curiosity and gentle touch with the kittens. Already he was forming a bond with them.
But Estel’s strength was not only in befriending animals, it was also in wrapping ancient elves around his fingers. And before Glorfindel could explain to Estel the need to return to the house, the boy looked up at him. “Do we have to leave already?” His wide silver eyes were impossibly large as he asked the question.
And for all the famed combat skills of the Balrog slayer, Glorfindel found he could not stand against Estel’s carefully planned ‘attack’.
He conceded, “Five more minutes, tithen pen. I will get your coat.”
As Glorfindel turned around he could hear Estel explaining to the kittens why he had to leave and promising to return as soon as he might. Truly, Gilraen’s son was growing up and showing more responsibility than he had expected.
-o0o-
It was nigh impossible to tell the dark sky from the path in front of them as the rain continued to fall. Torrential and relentless. The land was cast in grey darkness that made land and sky blend together. It turned trees into dark looming shadows lacking distinct features and the road they were walking on into a treacherous path.
The twins were close to Rivendell now, yet with the storm unleashing its force seemingly straight above them that was of little consequence. They were forced to walk slowly to avoid stumbling on the treacherous path, guiding their horses to find safe footing that eluded themselves. The white path to Rivendell was slim here, falling of steeply into a hollow on one side while rocks and boulders, that would eventually grow to form the cliffs surrounding Imladris, bordered the other side.
“I think, brother, that we have made a mistake.” Elrohir was shouting to be heard over the howling winds of the storm.
Elladan had to agree. When they had first seen the foreboding clouds darken the horizon they had thought to make it home in ample time before the breaking of the storm.
They had been wrong.
And now they were caught in the open, on a gravel strewn path, with no hope of shelter. Their home, only an hour’s ride from their current location, might as well have been beyond the mountains.
A sudden sound broke through Elladan’s thoughts and he whirled around to look back at his brother.
His heart sank.
Elrohir’s horse had lost its footing on the slippery rocks that littered the path, and though it had avoided a fall that could have been fatal, its hind legs had slipped off the road. Tálagor’s hooves were kicking furiously as the horse scrambled for a foothold on the steep slope while Elrohir held tightly onto the bridle trying to aid his horse.
But gravity’s hold prevailed and in a rumble of rocks and debris Tálagor slid off the rain slickened path - dragging Elrohir with him.
Elladan froze.
He had let go of his horse’s bridle to rush to his twin’s aid, yet before he had even taken a second step the ravine had claimed both horse and rider and for a painful second Elladan’s heart seemed to stop working.
Then, he continued his dash over to the spot where his twin had disappeared. Crouching low on the wet path he gazed down the sloping ground at the gully beneath. It was not a deep drop but large enough to be dangerous and loose rocks littered the ground, slick black shapes in the continuing rain.
He could barely make out the dark shape that was Elrohir’s horse as it was trying to regain its footing at the bottom of the slope. Getting its feet back under its massive body and heaving itself back up, the horse appeared to have survived the fall, or slide, down the slope without injuries. Yet, instead of making its way back to the path it approached another, smaller dark figure lying on the ground.
With sudden dread Elladan realized that the unmoving figure was his twin.
“Elrohir!” He made his way down the slope as fast as he could, trying not to slip and fall after his twin. “Elrohir, answer me!”
He reached Elrohir’s side a moment later, spraying small rocks over the slope as he tried to slow his descent on the loose rocks.
He lifted Elrohir into his arms, for a moment content to just hold his brother, to let his presence and his steady breaths sooth his frantic fears. Only after he had assured himself that Elrohir yet lived did he try to look for his twin’s injuries. It was not an easy task. The rain obscured his view and it was too dark to see clearly. Elladan could not tell whether it was blood that was plastering his brother’s hair to his forehead or if it was just the rain.
While he checked for broken bones along his brother’s arms and legs, Elrohir began to stir. He creased his forehead in obvious pain as his senses returned to him.
“Easy, muindor.” Elladan gently restrained his twin as Elrohir tried to sit up. “How do you feel?”
Elrohir blinked up at him, “Fine?” Elrohir’s answer almost sounded like a question, as if he was not quite sure whether he had selected the correct answer - it had probably just been the one he was most familiar with.
Elladan sighed, but moved back a little to help his twin into a sitting position. “Take your time Elrohir. Then tell me how you truly feel.” He watched his brother carefully, looking for signs of worsening pain or concussion in his brother, but, reassuringly, found none.
“My head hurts,” Elrohir eventually offered hesitatingly. After a short pause he added, “I should be able to ride.”
As the rain around them continued to fall and the wind tore at their hair that had long ago torn free of their braids, Elladan realized that he would have to accept his brother’s words. They could not stay here at the bottom of the hollow, unprotected from the storm. Elves may not be susceptible to the cold in the same way that humans were but prolonged exposure, especially when injured, still posed a risk.
With a sigh, Elladan hoisted his brother up and helped him back on his horse, which had stayed by their side all this time. Pain flashed briefly across Elrohir’s face as he jostled whatever injuries he had sustained, but he gave Elladan a tight nod, signaling that he’d be able to stay on by himself.
Elladan led the horse back up the slope and to the white path. He contemplated sending his own horse ahead of them, but in the rain the danger of the animal slipping was too great. A few whispered words were all it took to make sure Belroch would follow after Tálagor as Elladan set out again over the slippery path to get his brother home.
-o0o-
The rain outside was the least of Gilraen’s worries at the moment.
Maybe it had been a mistake to let Estel spend most of the day in the stables playing with kittens. Ever since her boy had returned from his visit to the small felines with Glorfindel, he had been distracted – and clumsy.
Earlier in the evening he had spilt his milk and in the hurry to clean the mess he made had dropped his food plate right after it. Bread, butter and smoked meat, all now marred his bedroom floor. And when Gilraen had tried to clean the mess her son had somehow managed to trip over the soft carpet that Lord Elrond had brought to their room for extra warmth.
“Better?”, she asked, after she placed a last kiss on Estel’s smarting knee, trusting in the magic of ‘Nana’s healing kisses’ to make her son feel better.
Estel nodded mutely, still rubbing his eyes.
“Nana?” he asked.
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m sorry I dropped the food.” Her son’s sincere apology lifted Gilraen’s spirit and she was very pleased at his next words as well. “I can clean up.”
“In that case I will get you some fresh milk from the kitchens.”
As she left the room she saw Estel hurry, surprisingly nimble despite his aching knees, to the corner by the bed where he had dropped his food. Maybe her son truly was growing up and becoming more responsible as Glorfindel had said. Normally she was inclined to count Lord Elrond’s advisor’s words of praise with a grain of salt - she knew very well that Estel had wrapped the famed warrior around his little finger.
It was probably because Estel had dragged one of the twin’s swords outside of the house on day and declared that he would accompany Glorfindel on his patrol. Gilraen had almost died of fright at the sight of her little boy holding a sword almost as tall as he, but Glorfindel had been charmed.
As Gilraen returned from the kitchen, a glass of warmed milk in her hand, she noticed the hectic buzz of excitement in the halls. With the weather as bad as it was she was surprised to see so much activity. She just hoped that nothing would have been struck by lightning, though she could not recall hearing thunder.
Luck was with her, though, as almost next to Estel’s room, she spied Elrond’s chief advisor.
“Erestor,” she greeted with a soft bow of the head, “what has happened.”
“It is nothing to worry about, my lady”, he said, though there was a hint of something in his tone that suggested that he at least was worried. “Lord Elrond’s sons have returned. Unfortunately, their return journey seems to have been difficult, they have been brought to the Houses of Healing.”
That would explain Erestor’s worry and the frenzy of activity she had seen before. The inhabitants of Imladris cared deeply for the twin sons of Elrond, as did her son. Since Lord Elrond had taken them into his home, Elladan and Elrohir had been like brothers to him. The friendship they bore her late husband paled in comparison to the bond they shared with Estel.
Estel would be worried.
“I hope they are not seriously injured?”
“I should not think so,” Erestor answered before taking his leave and hurrying down the corridor, doubtlessly towards the Houses of Healing to find out the truth of his own assurances.
She would have to tell Estel. But how?
Still in thought she opened the door - only to find Estel’s room empty.
-o0o-
The clouds and rain had brought darkness early to the Last Homely House today, but by now night had fallen as well and the corridor was almost pitch black. Or so it seemed to Estel.
Unlike the hallway outside his room, which was bathed in the flickering, reassuring light of many torches, this smaller passageway was cast in darkness. Only every third or so torch was lit, for few elves walked here in the back of the house. However, the big hallway that led from his room to the central staircase and the heart of the house had been blocked by his nana and Restor and they wouldn’t have understood that he needed to leave.
Estel twisted his hands a bit tighter into the fabric of his shirt, trying to find a small measure of comfort from the move and the surprise he kept there for his brothers. His brothers had been injured!
For a moment his short steps faltered as his imagination, aided by the dark in the corridor, conjured dreadful images of his brothers wrapped in white bandages and forced to drink his father’s dreadful healing tea.
Suddenly there was a small movement against his hand and a brush of something soft against his skin. It tickled - And it dispelled the dark images in his mind.
With newfound energy Estel hurried down the corridor, staying close to the wall, especially in the darkest spaces between the torches, until he reached a small stairway. Luckily this one was better lit and he made his way down the winding stairs with gentle care.
A small wooden door waited at the bottom of the stair well and Estel opened it carefully, standing on tip toes to reach the high door knob. It opened without a sound and he peeked around the door gently to find the corridor behind it empty.
He was almost where he wanted to be.
The door had opened onto the corridor that led to the Halls of Healing, two large, arched oaken doors at the end of the corridor – large enough to easily carry injured elves or men through, marked the rooms where his brothers would be.
Just when he was about to hurry towards the doors he heard the click of a door and scrambled back into the stairwell behind him. He waited with baited breath, gazing through the slit between the door and the wall, for in his hurry he had not closed the door behind him.
He dared not move or make a sound.
Gradually the sounds of the elves outside grew louder and drowned out the furious beating of his heart. Somebody sighed.
“I should have known they would attempt to return despite the weather.”
Glorfindel! Estel huddled a bit further away from the door when he recognized the golden-haired elf’s voice and almost dropped his surprise for the twins in the process. If anyone would be able to spot him in his hiding place it would be Glorfy.
But the balrog slayer seemed distracted. “I should have kept the paths under better watch.”
“You would have merely exposed more of your men to the rain and the danger.” The calm voice of his father answered Glorfindel. He sounded exhausted. “And Elrohir will recover by tomorrow or the day after. No great harm was done.”
The two elves were silent for a moment and the sounds of his father’s robe gliding over the stone floor of the corridor retreated into the distance. Estel waited until even that soft sound faded - and then waited some more. He was very familiar with the fine hearing of elves that had thwarted many of his escapes from boring lectures or afternoon naps.
Finally, he checked the corridor once more and, finding it empty, dashed across the short space that separated him from his destination. He stood on tip toes once more reaching for the door handle when the door itself suddenly opened.
With a squeal of surprise Estel jumped back out of the door’s way but there was no time for him to run for cover. He had been found. Letting his small head drop to his chest he waited for the lecture that was sure to come.
“Estel?”
Estel looked up when his brother’s voice reached his ears, a smile on his face. “’Dan!” He rushed forward and gave his brother’s leg a one-armed squeeze, mindful of the surprise he still carried to his chest.
“I heard that you were injured and in the healing rooms and ada would make you drink his horrible tea, and where is ‘Ro? Is he alright?”
Looking around inside the large chamber, Estel spotted the second twin on one of the beds and his feet were moving before he even registered Elladan’s answer.
“Elrohir is sleeping. He will be fine.”
Estel hoped that was true. He had quickly commandeered the chair standing next to Elrohir’s bed, and used it as a stepping stool to wiggle on top of the bed next to the injured twin. Elrohir’s forehead was wrapped in a clean white bandage, just as he had feared, and the elf did not react to the gentle prodding of Estel’s small fingers on his face.
Probably he had had to drink Ada’s tea.
Estel made a face at the imagined taste of the healing potion. Even honey, he knew, could not cover the bitter tang of the herbs it contained.
Sitting back on his heels, Estel reached under his shirt. Luckily he had just the thing to make Ro feel better.
-o0o-
The last hours were a blur of dark and dread to Elladan. He barely remembered the way back to Rivendell, their home. All that he could recall clearly had been the need, the despair that had driven him. Through the howling wind and the pouring rain he had been bent on guiding Elrohir’s horse, and with it his brother, back home.
When he had reached the courtyard of the Last Homely House the alarm had already been raised, he must have walked past a guard at some point of his troubled trek.
He could not remember doing so, but it mattered little. Relief coursed through him when he saw his father and Glorfindel awaiting them in the courtyard despite the rain. It intensified when the golden-haired warrior lifted Elrohir off the horse and carried him into the house. After his trek through the storm, a journey that had taken him hours, he was not sure that he would have had the strength to get Elrohir off Tálagor.
His father had hugged him then and together they had gone after Glorfindel. It was only once they were in the Houses of Healing, where steady, oil-infused flames lit the room, that Elladan had truly seen Elrohir’s injuries. The thought of them had haunted his every step on the way back. If Elrohir had been wrong about his being able to ride, or had lied about it, Elladan could have aggravated his brother’s injuries with every mile that they got closer to home.
In the light, Elladan had seen that it was indeed blood that had matted Elrohir’s hair, yet there was less of it than he had feared. At some point during their return the wound on his brother’s temple had stopped bleeding – and the rain must have washed much of the older blood away.
With quiet efficiency, Elrond had examined his brother before giving him a draught of herbs to aid him into a healing sleep. Elrohir’s hold on consciousness had been precarious throughout their return journey, yet he had stubbornly clung to it, most likely, Elladan guessed, so that the older twin wouldn’t be completely alone.
As their father wrapped Elrohir’s head in a crisp white bandage, Elladan felt a hand grasp his shoulder and squeeze it gently. The touch finally tore him from what Elladan suddenly realized had been almost exhaustive stupor. For the last few minutes he hadn’t moved, had simply followed his father’s movements with his eyes, not truly even registering what was happening.
It was Glorfindel’s hand resting on his shoulder and when Elladan turned around he saw understanding and compassion in the older elf’s blue eyes.
“Here”, Glorfindel said and held out a pile of dry clothes to the older twin, “you should get out of those wet clothes.”
When Elladan accepted the bundle and nodded tiredly, Glorfindel gave his shoulder another weak squeeze and added. “And then get some rest. Elrohir will be fine. You did well.”
A few minutes later, Elrond repeated almost the exact same words.
Elladan, now dressed in the dry clothes stepped over to his brother’s bedside and sat down in the chair that either Glorfindel or his father had placed there in anticipation of his actions.
“I will rest,” he promised tiredly, looking up at his father who was standing by the door, waiting for the words. “Soon.”
Not just yet. He knew that rest would elude him right now even if he sought it. Exhaustion was pulling at his senses and turning his limbs to lead weights but for a moment longer he needed to confirm for himself what Glorfindel and his father were saying. Elrohir would be fine.
His injury had never been threatening.
Yet in the dark and terror of the storm outside the village, when Elladan had fought to bring his brother home and the only sign of consciousness from his brother had been the flashes of pain that crossed his face, Elladan had doubted that. His frightened mind had conjured up images that were far worse than the truth, thoughts of dangerous injuries that his brother may be hiding had invaded his thoughts and had been his only companion beside the steady rain and the howling winds.
Now, Elladan needed to replace those images with the reassuring sight of his brother. Home. Breathing. Healing.
The sound of the door closing, suggested that his words had been good enough for their father, and Elladan rested his head on his brother’s bed, listening to Elrohir’s soft breaths.
He had almost dozed off when a new sound reached his ears. Something was outside the doors.
With some effort he got back to his feet and went to the doors. What he found on the other side came as a surprise.
“Estel?”
“‘Dan!” The young human recovered from his obvious fright quickly and gave him a quick hug before bursting into a rush of words that his tired mind had trouble following.
“… Where is ‘Ro? Is he alright?”
That he did understand.
“Elrohir is sleeping.” He answered. Estel dashed into the room even before Elladan could add: “He will be fine.”
The affection of their adopted brother warmed his heart. Never before had an heir of Elros been this close to his family, though Rivendell had fostered many of them. Estel truly was their little brother in all but blood.
Before Elladan could turn to follow Estel into the room hurried footsteps alerted him of another approach. He waited for Erestor to reach the door and wasn’t surprised to see the worry on the advisor’s face. He might have expected that Estel had not bothered to ask for permission in his haste to come and see his brothers.
“He is here, Erestor.” Elladan reassured the advisor. “If the lady Gilraen will permit it, I will keep an eye on him and make sure he gets his rest.”
Relief was clear in the older elf’s gaze as he nodded. “I will inform her.”
For a moment he mustered Elladan silently, probably noting his exhaustion. “How is Elrohir?”
“Resting, thanks to one of adar’s potions. He will be sore for a few days, but the Valar were watching over him once more.” Elladan did not truly want to consider what could have happened to Elrohir in the fall, the images his mind had provided during his trek through the storm had done quite a good job of it already. Instead, he settled for being grateful that things had turned out the way they had.
“That is good to hear, tithen pen. Remember to rest yourself once you have seen to Estel.”
Elladan resisted the urge to sigh at the repeated reminder to rest and simply nodded as Erestor turned around to find Gilraen.
When the older twin turned back towards the infirmary he found Estel had already crawled up on the bed next to his twin and was looking at Elrohir intently. Or at something on Elrohir’s chest.
Had something just moved under Elrohir’s blanket?
Suddenly alert, the elf crossed the room to get to his brothers. There was an unmistakable bump under the blanket and as he watched it moved again – turning this way and that in an obvious attempt to get out from under the blanket that trapped it.
When he looked up at Estel, the young boy started squirming. “I thought Elrohir would feel better with someone to keep him company, so I brought Freckles to keep him warm. And he couldn’t really stay in my room, I gave him my milk and meat but Nana was getting suspicious and -”
Elladan lifted the blanket carefully to look into the eyes of a mildly confused kitten. Despite himself, he found himself laughing at the disgruntled cat and the hopeful look on his young brother’s face.
“That is a nice thought Estel.” Estel practically beamed when he said the words. “However, the Houses of Healing are no place for a pet. You should keep Freckles in your room.”
Elladan did not expect Estel’s reaction. The boy’s eyes lit up with joy and happiness at his statement, and he practically jumped off the bed to throw himself at the older twin, hugging his legs fiercely. “Really? I can keep him in my room? Thank you Elladan!”
Realization of what he had just done dawned on Elladan when Estel climbed back up onto the bed, lifted his cat off of Elrohir’s chest and ran out of the room in an excited rush.
“I’ll go and tell Nana! And Ada! And then Glorfy can make toys for Freckles and I’m sure cook will give him some honey cakes. And Restor -” Estel was still rambling gleefully as he sped out of the healing room to search for his mother.
An all new sort of dread settled in Elladan’s limbs and suddenly he was very envious of his twin, who would sleep through the chaos that was sure to ensue.
-o0 The End 0o-
Ranking: 2nd place
Summary: A dreadful storm turns the twins return to Rivendell into a dangerous mission. Luckily they can rely on their little brother to brighten even the darkest night.
Rating: PG
Dark clouds were rolling over the edges of the canyon walls surrounding the last homely house, quickly drowning out the evening sunshine. Elrond looked at the clouds with worry.
It would still be a while before the rain reached them and even then the force of the storm inside the village was sure to reach only a fraction of the force it would undoubtedly unleash over the plains. Estel, who was helping Glorfindel attend to the horses in the stables, would get home long before the rain would start to fall within the valley.
It was not Estel that he was worrying about.
His elven sons, out on a patrol with the rangers, would doubtlessly feel the full wrath of the storm. Worse, they were supposed to return this night. Elrond could do little but hope that they would find shelter to wait out the storm and stay safe.
-o0o-
The gathering clouds were dark, ominous, granting a glance at the terrible weather that had to be raging outside the protected borders of Imladris. Glancing up at the sky for a moment longer, Glorfindel wondered how long it would be before the rain started to fall.
Not long now. He and Estel would have to return to the house soon.
Glorfindel turned around and headed back into the stable. He passed the empty stalls of the twins’ horses and absentmindedly patted Asfaloth’s nose when he passed by the stallion’s box. Asfaloth had been very pleased indeed by the visit from his rider and the little human that always snuck him pieces of sugar. If there was anything the noble horse liked better than receiving well-deserved attention, it was sweets.
Again Asfaloth lifted his head and sniffed Glorfindel’s hand as if to assure himself that there were no more treats hiding in the elf’s hand.
Glorfindel had to smile at the antics of his mount and continued deeper into the stables. Estel was seated on a hay pale in the last box to the left. A box that hadn’t been used for horses in many long years.
Instead it now housed the local cat population.
The feline creatures appreciated the constant warmth in the stables and the ripe mouse hunting grounds. The stable master, in return, was grateful for their help in protecting the horse feed from rodent infestations. He had started feeding the mousers centuries ago and they had gracefully accepted the invitation to move into the stables as permanent residents.
Currently, small kittens populated the box, delighting in diving into the hay and chasing each other around the legs of the small human that watched them intently. Estel had been asking to see the kittens ever since he had heard of their birth almost two months ago, but the older elves had thought it wise to wait until the kittens were a bit older. Now that he had gotten his wish he had been playing with the kittens for a good three hours without showing any signs of tiring.
The kittens mesmerized him and Estel delighted in stroking their soft fur and evading their tiny paws when they tried to catch his fingers. Every pounce of a little cat was accompanied by his excited giggles. Glorfindel found himself smiling again. The young human had surprised him with his calm curiosity and gentle touch with the kittens. Already he was forming a bond with them.
But Estel’s strength was not only in befriending animals, it was also in wrapping ancient elves around his fingers. And before Glorfindel could explain to Estel the need to return to the house, the boy looked up at him. “Do we have to leave already?” His wide silver eyes were impossibly large as he asked the question.
And for all the famed combat skills of the Balrog slayer, Glorfindel found he could not stand against Estel’s carefully planned ‘attack’.
He conceded, “Five more minutes, tithen pen. I will get your coat.”
As Glorfindel turned around he could hear Estel explaining to the kittens why he had to leave and promising to return as soon as he might. Truly, Gilraen’s son was growing up and showing more responsibility than he had expected.
-o0o-
It was nigh impossible to tell the dark sky from the path in front of them as the rain continued to fall. Torrential and relentless. The land was cast in grey darkness that made land and sky blend together. It turned trees into dark looming shadows lacking distinct features and the road they were walking on into a treacherous path.
The twins were close to Rivendell now, yet with the storm unleashing its force seemingly straight above them that was of little consequence. They were forced to walk slowly to avoid stumbling on the treacherous path, guiding their horses to find safe footing that eluded themselves. The white path to Rivendell was slim here, falling of steeply into a hollow on one side while rocks and boulders, that would eventually grow to form the cliffs surrounding Imladris, bordered the other side.
“I think, brother, that we have made a mistake.” Elrohir was shouting to be heard over the howling winds of the storm.
Elladan had to agree. When they had first seen the foreboding clouds darken the horizon they had thought to make it home in ample time before the breaking of the storm.
They had been wrong.
And now they were caught in the open, on a gravel strewn path, with no hope of shelter. Their home, only an hour’s ride from their current location, might as well have been beyond the mountains.
A sudden sound broke through Elladan’s thoughts and he whirled around to look back at his brother.
His heart sank.
Elrohir’s horse had lost its footing on the slippery rocks that littered the path, and though it had avoided a fall that could have been fatal, its hind legs had slipped off the road. Tálagor’s hooves were kicking furiously as the horse scrambled for a foothold on the steep slope while Elrohir held tightly onto the bridle trying to aid his horse.
But gravity’s hold prevailed and in a rumble of rocks and debris Tálagor slid off the rain slickened path - dragging Elrohir with him.
Elladan froze.
He had let go of his horse’s bridle to rush to his twin’s aid, yet before he had even taken a second step the ravine had claimed both horse and rider and for a painful second Elladan’s heart seemed to stop working.
Then, he continued his dash over to the spot where his twin had disappeared. Crouching low on the wet path he gazed down the sloping ground at the gully beneath. It was not a deep drop but large enough to be dangerous and loose rocks littered the ground, slick black shapes in the continuing rain.
He could barely make out the dark shape that was Elrohir’s horse as it was trying to regain its footing at the bottom of the slope. Getting its feet back under its massive body and heaving itself back up, the horse appeared to have survived the fall, or slide, down the slope without injuries. Yet, instead of making its way back to the path it approached another, smaller dark figure lying on the ground.
With sudden dread Elladan realized that the unmoving figure was his twin.
“Elrohir!” He made his way down the slope as fast as he could, trying not to slip and fall after his twin. “Elrohir, answer me!”
He reached Elrohir’s side a moment later, spraying small rocks over the slope as he tried to slow his descent on the loose rocks.
He lifted Elrohir into his arms, for a moment content to just hold his brother, to let his presence and his steady breaths sooth his frantic fears. Only after he had assured himself that Elrohir yet lived did he try to look for his twin’s injuries. It was not an easy task. The rain obscured his view and it was too dark to see clearly. Elladan could not tell whether it was blood that was plastering his brother’s hair to his forehead or if it was just the rain.
While he checked for broken bones along his brother’s arms and legs, Elrohir began to stir. He creased his forehead in obvious pain as his senses returned to him.
“Easy, muindor.” Elladan gently restrained his twin as Elrohir tried to sit up. “How do you feel?”
Elrohir blinked up at him, “Fine?” Elrohir’s answer almost sounded like a question, as if he was not quite sure whether he had selected the correct answer - it had probably just been the one he was most familiar with.
Elladan sighed, but moved back a little to help his twin into a sitting position. “Take your time Elrohir. Then tell me how you truly feel.” He watched his brother carefully, looking for signs of worsening pain or concussion in his brother, but, reassuringly, found none.
“My head hurts,” Elrohir eventually offered hesitatingly. After a short pause he added, “I should be able to ride.”
As the rain around them continued to fall and the wind tore at their hair that had long ago torn free of their braids, Elladan realized that he would have to accept his brother’s words. They could not stay here at the bottom of the hollow, unprotected from the storm. Elves may not be susceptible to the cold in the same way that humans were but prolonged exposure, especially when injured, still posed a risk.
With a sigh, Elladan hoisted his brother up and helped him back on his horse, which had stayed by their side all this time. Pain flashed briefly across Elrohir’s face as he jostled whatever injuries he had sustained, but he gave Elladan a tight nod, signaling that he’d be able to stay on by himself.
Elladan led the horse back up the slope and to the white path. He contemplated sending his own horse ahead of them, but in the rain the danger of the animal slipping was too great. A few whispered words were all it took to make sure Belroch would follow after Tálagor as Elladan set out again over the slippery path to get his brother home.
-o0o-
The rain outside was the least of Gilraen’s worries at the moment.
Maybe it had been a mistake to let Estel spend most of the day in the stables playing with kittens. Ever since her boy had returned from his visit to the small felines with Glorfindel, he had been distracted – and clumsy.
Earlier in the evening he had spilt his milk and in the hurry to clean the mess he made had dropped his food plate right after it. Bread, butter and smoked meat, all now marred his bedroom floor. And when Gilraen had tried to clean the mess her son had somehow managed to trip over the soft carpet that Lord Elrond had brought to their room for extra warmth.
“Better?”, she asked, after she placed a last kiss on Estel’s smarting knee, trusting in the magic of ‘Nana’s healing kisses’ to make her son feel better.
Estel nodded mutely, still rubbing his eyes.
“Nana?” he asked.
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m sorry I dropped the food.” Her son’s sincere apology lifted Gilraen’s spirit and she was very pleased at his next words as well. “I can clean up.”
“In that case I will get you some fresh milk from the kitchens.”
As she left the room she saw Estel hurry, surprisingly nimble despite his aching knees, to the corner by the bed where he had dropped his food. Maybe her son truly was growing up and becoming more responsible as Glorfindel had said. Normally she was inclined to count Lord Elrond’s advisor’s words of praise with a grain of salt - she knew very well that Estel had wrapped the famed warrior around his little finger.
It was probably because Estel had dragged one of the twin’s swords outside of the house on day and declared that he would accompany Glorfindel on his patrol. Gilraen had almost died of fright at the sight of her little boy holding a sword almost as tall as he, but Glorfindel had been charmed.
As Gilraen returned from the kitchen, a glass of warmed milk in her hand, she noticed the hectic buzz of excitement in the halls. With the weather as bad as it was she was surprised to see so much activity. She just hoped that nothing would have been struck by lightning, though she could not recall hearing thunder.
Luck was with her, though, as almost next to Estel’s room, she spied Elrond’s chief advisor.
“Erestor,” she greeted with a soft bow of the head, “what has happened.”
“It is nothing to worry about, my lady”, he said, though there was a hint of something in his tone that suggested that he at least was worried. “Lord Elrond’s sons have returned. Unfortunately, their return journey seems to have been difficult, they have been brought to the Houses of Healing.”
That would explain Erestor’s worry and the frenzy of activity she had seen before. The inhabitants of Imladris cared deeply for the twin sons of Elrond, as did her son. Since Lord Elrond had taken them into his home, Elladan and Elrohir had been like brothers to him. The friendship they bore her late husband paled in comparison to the bond they shared with Estel.
Estel would be worried.
“I hope they are not seriously injured?”
“I should not think so,” Erestor answered before taking his leave and hurrying down the corridor, doubtlessly towards the Houses of Healing to find out the truth of his own assurances.
She would have to tell Estel. But how?
Still in thought she opened the door - only to find Estel’s room empty.
-o0o-
The clouds and rain had brought darkness early to the Last Homely House today, but by now night had fallen as well and the corridor was almost pitch black. Or so it seemed to Estel.
Unlike the hallway outside his room, which was bathed in the flickering, reassuring light of many torches, this smaller passageway was cast in darkness. Only every third or so torch was lit, for few elves walked here in the back of the house. However, the big hallway that led from his room to the central staircase and the heart of the house had been blocked by his nana and Restor and they wouldn’t have understood that he needed to leave.
Estel twisted his hands a bit tighter into the fabric of his shirt, trying to find a small measure of comfort from the move and the surprise he kept there for his brothers. His brothers had been injured!
For a moment his short steps faltered as his imagination, aided by the dark in the corridor, conjured dreadful images of his brothers wrapped in white bandages and forced to drink his father’s dreadful healing tea.
Suddenly there was a small movement against his hand and a brush of something soft against his skin. It tickled - And it dispelled the dark images in his mind.
With newfound energy Estel hurried down the corridor, staying close to the wall, especially in the darkest spaces between the torches, until he reached a small stairway. Luckily this one was better lit and he made his way down the winding stairs with gentle care.
A small wooden door waited at the bottom of the stair well and Estel opened it carefully, standing on tip toes to reach the high door knob. It opened without a sound and he peeked around the door gently to find the corridor behind it empty.
He was almost where he wanted to be.
The door had opened onto the corridor that led to the Halls of Healing, two large, arched oaken doors at the end of the corridor – large enough to easily carry injured elves or men through, marked the rooms where his brothers would be.
Just when he was about to hurry towards the doors he heard the click of a door and scrambled back into the stairwell behind him. He waited with baited breath, gazing through the slit between the door and the wall, for in his hurry he had not closed the door behind him.
He dared not move or make a sound.
Gradually the sounds of the elves outside grew louder and drowned out the furious beating of his heart. Somebody sighed.
“I should have known they would attempt to return despite the weather.”
Glorfindel! Estel huddled a bit further away from the door when he recognized the golden-haired elf’s voice and almost dropped his surprise for the twins in the process. If anyone would be able to spot him in his hiding place it would be Glorfy.
But the balrog slayer seemed distracted. “I should have kept the paths under better watch.”
“You would have merely exposed more of your men to the rain and the danger.” The calm voice of his father answered Glorfindel. He sounded exhausted. “And Elrohir will recover by tomorrow or the day after. No great harm was done.”
The two elves were silent for a moment and the sounds of his father’s robe gliding over the stone floor of the corridor retreated into the distance. Estel waited until even that soft sound faded - and then waited some more. He was very familiar with the fine hearing of elves that had thwarted many of his escapes from boring lectures or afternoon naps.
Finally, he checked the corridor once more and, finding it empty, dashed across the short space that separated him from his destination. He stood on tip toes once more reaching for the door handle when the door itself suddenly opened.
With a squeal of surprise Estel jumped back out of the door’s way but there was no time for him to run for cover. He had been found. Letting his small head drop to his chest he waited for the lecture that was sure to come.
“Estel?”
Estel looked up when his brother’s voice reached his ears, a smile on his face. “’Dan!” He rushed forward and gave his brother’s leg a one-armed squeeze, mindful of the surprise he still carried to his chest.
“I heard that you were injured and in the healing rooms and ada would make you drink his horrible tea, and where is ‘Ro? Is he alright?”
Looking around inside the large chamber, Estel spotted the second twin on one of the beds and his feet were moving before he even registered Elladan’s answer.
“Elrohir is sleeping. He will be fine.”
Estel hoped that was true. He had quickly commandeered the chair standing next to Elrohir’s bed, and used it as a stepping stool to wiggle on top of the bed next to the injured twin. Elrohir’s forehead was wrapped in a clean white bandage, just as he had feared, and the elf did not react to the gentle prodding of Estel’s small fingers on his face.
Probably he had had to drink Ada’s tea.
Estel made a face at the imagined taste of the healing potion. Even honey, he knew, could not cover the bitter tang of the herbs it contained.
Sitting back on his heels, Estel reached under his shirt. Luckily he had just the thing to make Ro feel better.
-o0o-
The last hours were a blur of dark and dread to Elladan. He barely remembered the way back to Rivendell, their home. All that he could recall clearly had been the need, the despair that had driven him. Through the howling wind and the pouring rain he had been bent on guiding Elrohir’s horse, and with it his brother, back home.
When he had reached the courtyard of the Last Homely House the alarm had already been raised, he must have walked past a guard at some point of his troubled trek.
He could not remember doing so, but it mattered little. Relief coursed through him when he saw his father and Glorfindel awaiting them in the courtyard despite the rain. It intensified when the golden-haired warrior lifted Elrohir off the horse and carried him into the house. After his trek through the storm, a journey that had taken him hours, he was not sure that he would have had the strength to get Elrohir off Tálagor.
His father had hugged him then and together they had gone after Glorfindel. It was only once they were in the Houses of Healing, where steady, oil-infused flames lit the room, that Elladan had truly seen Elrohir’s injuries. The thought of them had haunted his every step on the way back. If Elrohir had been wrong about his being able to ride, or had lied about it, Elladan could have aggravated his brother’s injuries with every mile that they got closer to home.
In the light, Elladan had seen that it was indeed blood that had matted Elrohir’s hair, yet there was less of it than he had feared. At some point during their return the wound on his brother’s temple had stopped bleeding – and the rain must have washed much of the older blood away.
With quiet efficiency, Elrond had examined his brother before giving him a draught of herbs to aid him into a healing sleep. Elrohir’s hold on consciousness had been precarious throughout their return journey, yet he had stubbornly clung to it, most likely, Elladan guessed, so that the older twin wouldn’t be completely alone.
As their father wrapped Elrohir’s head in a crisp white bandage, Elladan felt a hand grasp his shoulder and squeeze it gently. The touch finally tore him from what Elladan suddenly realized had been almost exhaustive stupor. For the last few minutes he hadn’t moved, had simply followed his father’s movements with his eyes, not truly even registering what was happening.
It was Glorfindel’s hand resting on his shoulder and when Elladan turned around he saw understanding and compassion in the older elf’s blue eyes.
“Here”, Glorfindel said and held out a pile of dry clothes to the older twin, “you should get out of those wet clothes.”
When Elladan accepted the bundle and nodded tiredly, Glorfindel gave his shoulder another weak squeeze and added. “And then get some rest. Elrohir will be fine. You did well.”
A few minutes later, Elrond repeated almost the exact same words.
Elladan, now dressed in the dry clothes stepped over to his brother’s bedside and sat down in the chair that either Glorfindel or his father had placed there in anticipation of his actions.
“I will rest,” he promised tiredly, looking up at his father who was standing by the door, waiting for the words. “Soon.”
Not just yet. He knew that rest would elude him right now even if he sought it. Exhaustion was pulling at his senses and turning his limbs to lead weights but for a moment longer he needed to confirm for himself what Glorfindel and his father were saying. Elrohir would be fine.
His injury had never been threatening.
Yet in the dark and terror of the storm outside the village, when Elladan had fought to bring his brother home and the only sign of consciousness from his brother had been the flashes of pain that crossed his face, Elladan had doubted that. His frightened mind had conjured up images that were far worse than the truth, thoughts of dangerous injuries that his brother may be hiding had invaded his thoughts and had been his only companion beside the steady rain and the howling winds.
Now, Elladan needed to replace those images with the reassuring sight of his brother. Home. Breathing. Healing.
The sound of the door closing, suggested that his words had been good enough for their father, and Elladan rested his head on his brother’s bed, listening to Elrohir’s soft breaths.
He had almost dozed off when a new sound reached his ears. Something was outside the doors.
With some effort he got back to his feet and went to the doors. What he found on the other side came as a surprise.
“Estel?”
“‘Dan!” The young human recovered from his obvious fright quickly and gave him a quick hug before bursting into a rush of words that his tired mind had trouble following.
“… Where is ‘Ro? Is he alright?”
That he did understand.
“Elrohir is sleeping.” He answered. Estel dashed into the room even before Elladan could add: “He will be fine.”
The affection of their adopted brother warmed his heart. Never before had an heir of Elros been this close to his family, though Rivendell had fostered many of them. Estel truly was their little brother in all but blood.
Before Elladan could turn to follow Estel into the room hurried footsteps alerted him of another approach. He waited for Erestor to reach the door and wasn’t surprised to see the worry on the advisor’s face. He might have expected that Estel had not bothered to ask for permission in his haste to come and see his brothers.
“He is here, Erestor.” Elladan reassured the advisor. “If the lady Gilraen will permit it, I will keep an eye on him and make sure he gets his rest.”
Relief was clear in the older elf’s gaze as he nodded. “I will inform her.”
For a moment he mustered Elladan silently, probably noting his exhaustion. “How is Elrohir?”
“Resting, thanks to one of adar’s potions. He will be sore for a few days, but the Valar were watching over him once more.” Elladan did not truly want to consider what could have happened to Elrohir in the fall, the images his mind had provided during his trek through the storm had done quite a good job of it already. Instead, he settled for being grateful that things had turned out the way they had.
“That is good to hear, tithen pen. Remember to rest yourself once you have seen to Estel.”
Elladan resisted the urge to sigh at the repeated reminder to rest and simply nodded as Erestor turned around to find Gilraen.
When the older twin turned back towards the infirmary he found Estel had already crawled up on the bed next to his twin and was looking at Elrohir intently. Or at something on Elrohir’s chest.
Had something just moved under Elrohir’s blanket?
Suddenly alert, the elf crossed the room to get to his brothers. There was an unmistakable bump under the blanket and as he watched it moved again – turning this way and that in an obvious attempt to get out from under the blanket that trapped it.
When he looked up at Estel, the young boy started squirming. “I thought Elrohir would feel better with someone to keep him company, so I brought Freckles to keep him warm. And he couldn’t really stay in my room, I gave him my milk and meat but Nana was getting suspicious and -”
Elladan lifted the blanket carefully to look into the eyes of a mildly confused kitten. Despite himself, he found himself laughing at the disgruntled cat and the hopeful look on his young brother’s face.
“That is a nice thought Estel.” Estel practically beamed when he said the words. “However, the Houses of Healing are no place for a pet. You should keep Freckles in your room.”
Elladan did not expect Estel’s reaction. The boy’s eyes lit up with joy and happiness at his statement, and he practically jumped off the bed to throw himself at the older twin, hugging his legs fiercely. “Really? I can keep him in my room? Thank you Elladan!”
Realization of what he had just done dawned on Elladan when Estel climbed back up onto the bed, lifted his cat off of Elrohir’s chest and ran out of the room in an excited rush.
“I’ll go and tell Nana! And Ada! And then Glorfy can make toys for Freckles and I’m sure cook will give him some honey cakes. And Restor -” Estel was still rambling gleefully as he sped out of the healing room to search for his mother.
An all new sort of dread settled in Elladan’s limbs and suddenly he was very envious of his twin, who would sleep through the chaos that was sure to ensue.
-o0 The End 0o-