Author's Note: This is an AU fiction, and I make no profit from it, as I own nothing but the mistakes and inconsistencies. I am not 100% happy with the title, and it may change in the future.

Part I

Elrohir Elrondion moved silently down the hall, violin and bow in hand. Coming to the music room, he opened the door and was met by the instructor, Erestor. 'Welcome, my Lord Elrohir. Take your place.' Erestor said as he bowed his head. Elrohir glared jokingly at him. Everyone knew how the sons of Elrond hated to be called 'Master' or 'Lord.' Erestor and Glorfindel, their chief tutors, did it continually to tease them.

Several Elves were already in the room, tuning their instruments or flipping through their music scores. Elrohir took his place between two of his friends, Farathír and Brengil. They too, had violins.

To any Elf who just stuck his head into the room out of curiosity, the noise would be dreadful: dozens of different instruments all wailing together on different notes, some horribly out of tune. To the players though, and to Erestor, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone was used to it.

Elrohir noticed that Farathír and Brengil were strangely quiet today. 'What is wrong?' he asked them at length. 'You look as though you expect to meet a Balrog coming around a corner at any moment.'

Farathír looked at Elrohir wryly. 'It is our sister again, melon nin. She has taken a turn for the worse. This time she is finding it more difficult to breathe, and it is making our family go distracted. '

'So I had noticed,' Elrohir said, still looking carefully at the two brothers. 'There is something else worrying you, though, I think.' He paused, but they offered no comment, other than a stealthy glance between each other. 'Well, I cannot very well force it out of either of you.' He went back to tuning his violin.

Five minutes later, the instruments were all in tune, and they were ready to start their practice.

Erestor walked to the center of the room, his eyes slowly roving over his students, taking in every one of them. He, too, noticed how Farathír and Brengil would not hold his gaze, but decided to say nothing.

For the first half hour of the practice, Elrohir concentrated on his playing. However, in the second half of it, he noticed a strange feeling of foreboding gradually getting stronger and stronger. He felt for his bond with Elladan and found that his twin was fine, and that Elladan sensed nothing.

'Elrohir!'

Elrohir jumped at the sound of his name being barked out. He glanced at Erestor, who was bestowing his best glare on him. 'Pay attention, Elrondion!'

Elrohir bowed his head slightly in apology. 'Yes, Erestor. Forgive me.'

Erestor nodded curtly and signaled for the music to commence again. Elrohir managed to keep his mind on what he was doing for the most part instead of thinking about the feeling he had.

Before he knew it, the orchestra had come to a difficult run in the piece they were playing. Jerking his mind back to complete alertness, he just managed to do the whole phrase without messing up. Inwardly, he sighed in relief. He had gone through much trouble – at his family's expense, who were put through the torture of hearing the same part over and over again – to get it perfect, for, along with difficult finger-work, there was a major crescendo to master.

A moment later, he was cringing as he missed a note. He glanced up to see Erestor arch an eyebrow at him, reminding Elrohir of his father. Much to his relief, Erestor glanced away a moment later when one of the cellos made the same unfortunate mistake Elrohir just had.

Suddenly Elrohir felt a stab of pain in his right arm, which was holding the bow. With a low cry, he stopped playing, dropping the bow.

'Now what is it, Elrohir? Are you ill?' Erestor's voice was worried with a slight tinge of annoyance in it as the other instruments came to a stand-still.

Elrohir's face was deadly pale, his dark eyes wide. He was grasping his upper-arm with his left hand and leaning heavily on Brengil.

'I...I... my arm. I must go. I must find Adar!' Elrohir now knew what the feeling of foreboding had meant.

Dropping his violin which landed with a crash that made Erestor cringe, Elrohir made his way between the other musicians and past Erestor. His gait was slow and unsteady; he looked as though he were about to collapse. Erestor glanced at Lindir.

'Go with him, then come back here when he has reached his father.'

Lindir nodded and carefully placed his flute on the music-rack. He took Elrohir's arm and guided him out of the room. Farathír bent down and picked up the violin and bow from where they lay beside him.

'Give them to me; I will take care of it,' Erestor said, taking the instrument. After setting the violin and bow down on a shelf near him, he turned back to the orchestra. 'We will begin at– ,' he looked down at his score. '– at bar eighty-six, once Lindir returns.'

After a couple moments, Lindir re-entered to the room. The lesson went smoothly from there on.

Lindir and Elrohir made their way towards Elrond's study, where they knew the Elf-lord would be at the time. After seeing that Elrohir was safely at the study, Lindir turned back towards the music room.

Elrohir knocked and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to regain his composure. At the sound of his father's voice bidding him to enter, Elrohir straightened and slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him gently.

'Elrohir? I thought you would be practicing with Erestor right now.' Elrond put down the quill he was holding and put the document he was writing aside to dry. He gestured towards a chair on the other side of the desk.

'I was, Adar.' Elrohir took the seat gratefully, for his legs felt as though they wouldn't hold for much longer. 'I was in the middle of the Overture when it felt as though I was stabbed in my right arm. I dropped my violin on the floor. Erestor is going to have something to say to me when he next sees me, I expect.' Elrohir looked forlornly at the floor. 'Adar, something is wrong! Elladan is fine, you are fine, and Naneth is in Lórien with Grandmother and Grandfather.'

Elrond folded his hands in front of his face and rested his chin on them. He regarded his younger son with an unreadable expression on his face. 'You do not look well, Elrohir. Here.' He pushed a goblet of miruvor towards Elrohir, who just stared at it unseeingly. 'Drink it,' he commanded firmly.

With a sigh, Elrohir reached forward and took the crystal goblet. 'It was most likely just an after-affect of your broken arm. You know you still feel it if you work your arm too much.'

'Holding a violin bow does not stress it enough to make it hurt so much, Adar, and you know that!' Elrohir drew his brows together in a very faithful imitation of his sire.

'And yet there is no better explanation. Come here and let me see your arm.' Elrond scooted his chair to one side to make room for Elrohir.

Elrohir made his way to his father's side. Elrond rolled up his son's sleeve and inspected where the arm had been badly broken some weeks ago after being kicked by a rearing horse. 'It is red, but nothing else. Does it still pain you?' As he spoke, he gently squeezed the arm, feeling along the bone, which had seemingly knitted together again well.

'It just aches, but not like it usually does.'

'Usually?' Elrond raised an eyebrow at that. 'Does it bother you often?'

'Nooo,' drawled Elrohir. 'Not often. I have just felt it more than usual recently. And not in the same way. Not even in the same place. Usually I feel it here.' He pointed to just above his elbow. 'But now it is closer to my shoulder.'

Elrond grunted slightly. 'I think you should be careful for the next few weeks until we can make sure that it is completely healed. It was a bad break, remember.'

Elrohir was adamant, though. 'I do not think the broken arm caused the pain today. It was not like anything I have experienced for a long time. The last time I felt something remotely alike was when Elladan was tortured after he was kidnapped so many years ago.'

At this, Elrond frowned deeply. 'If it shall be of comfort to you, I shall send a messenger to Lórien immediately, making sure everything is as it should be.'

Elrohir nodded gratefully as he righted his sleeve. Elrond leaned forward and kissed his son's forehead. 'Go and rest for a while now. You truly do look unwell.'

Elrohir stood up and turned to leave. 'And Elrohir?'

He turned around. 'Yes?'

'There is no need to worry, I am sure.'

Elrohir ducked his head again and left the study as Elrond took the now-dry piece of paper and read over it.

True to his word, Elrond sent out a messenger to the Golden Wood to ask after the Lady Celebrian. Even with the fastest runner, though, it would take about a week to get to the edge of the Wood realm of Galadriel and Celeborn.

Elrohir had little to say for the next few days and, to Elladan and Elrond's worry, he did not regain his full colour and was often found sitting in the library or on the balcony of his rooms dreaming. He did not eat as much as usual, and was getting thinner than Elladan and Elrond liked.

Several times Elladan tried to get him to tell him what was worrying him so much, but Elrohir stayed silent. His brother had not felt the disturbance around him, and suspected nothing.

Throughout the week, Elrohir felt the pain come, sometimes sharper than the first time, sometimes just a dull ache, many times. As it happened more frequently and as it got more severe, his father grew concerned and felt for his bond with his wife. He could not find it.

Finally after what seemed an age, the runner arrived back in Imladris. The news he brought to Elrond and his sons was not promising: their wife and mother had not arrived in Lothlórien. However, as the runner had passed over the Redhorn Pass, he had found signs of a battle and the snow was covered in blood: blood of both Elves and Orcs. Besides that, the messenger said, they had found the cloak Celebrian had been wearing when she set out for her parents' realm.

Elrond had paled visibly at this news, and had said nothing to anyone for a long while. Elladan and Elrohir had opted to go out and search for their mother at once, but Elrond had forbidden it.

'You shall not leave; at any rate, not Elrohir.' Elrond held up a hand to still Elrohir's protest. 'Look at yourself in the mirror, Elrohir. Then you will understand why I cannot allow you to go.'

'Then may I not go instead?' Elladan's voice was fearful and distressed; his black eyes were snapping like the fire on the hearth.

'I do not know,' Elrond sighed. 'I feel that it is not safe for you to leave the boundaries of the land, and yet something is wrong with Celebrian. I have sent Glorfindel and two score warriors to search, and they shall return only when they have found your Naneth.'

Ignoring the twin scowls that were directed his way, he stood and went to the window. Leaning against the wall and looking far out towards the forest, he massaged his temples. 'I am as worried as you are, my sons, but I will not have you do anything rash.'

'But she is our mother! She may be in grave danger! She may be dying! We must go to her and rescue her!' Elrohir's voice was raised, an unusual sound.

'She is my wife, and you are my son. She will be found by Glorfindel and brought back to her family; meanwhile you and your brother will do as I say. Is that understood?' Elrond's eyes flashed in slight anger.

Elrohir took a step back. 'Yes, Adar. Forgive me, I spoke in haste.'

With a small nod of his head, Elrond turned back to the window, tapping his booted foot on the floor in frustration. 'She should have reached Lórien weeks ago, and yet we did not hear of her failure to do so until now.'

'Perhaps Grandfather sent a messenger but he never reached here.' Elladan hesitated for a long moment. 'Perhaps he was waylaid by Orcs.'

'Perhaps. In all likelihood, we will not find out. Now leave me, I beg you; I wish to think.'

Elladan and Elrohir inclined their heads to their Lord and left the room, shutting the door softly behind them.

Back in their rooms, Elladan turned on his younger brother so suddenly Elrohir jumped. 'I for one am not staying here, just waiting for them to bring back Naneth. She could be dead, and if she is, I shall avenge her until my death.'

Elrohir just stared. 'Adar told us Glorfindel would not return till Naneth was found. Surely that is enough! Besides, Adar told us clearly that we were to stay here.'

'Are you coming or are you staying?' Elladan's eyes were flashing dangerously. 'I think that Adar is making a mistake in making us stay here.'

'Nonetheless, he is our father, and we ought to obey him.'

'Then do. As for myself, I am going immediately. Farewell.' Elladan strode past Elrohir to the wall where his sword was hung up. Without another word, he buckled it on and left the room, slamming the door to behind him.

Elrohir stood in the middle of the room, gazing at the door, as though thinking. Suddenly he moved to a chest near his bed, and took out his bow and quiver. He stepped out into the hallway and glanced around; he saw his brother far down the hall. 'Elladan, wait!'

Elladan stopped and turned around, facing Elrohir. 'Yes, muindor nin?'

'I will come,' Elrohir said softly.

Elladan answered with a small smile and jerked his head, as though to say, 'Then get over here, or you will be left behind.'

Once they got to the stable, they saddled their Elven steeds, twin black stallions. Elrohir strapped his quiver and bow to his back, then leapt onto his horse, Beleg. Elladan did likewise with Beledhel.

Together they raced out the stable and through the gates. Soon they were going over a wide plain, coming ever closer to the mountain range. Both were silent, wondering if their mother was lying injured somewhere alone, or if she was being tormented by the foul Orcs. They could not decide which one was better. They also both knew that it would take a little over a week at the least to reach the Redhorn Pass, perhaps more if they had trouble on the way.

That night they camped at the base of the mountains. They decided that it would be wise to keep a watch since more and more reports of roaming Orc bands were being brought to Elrond. Neither were particularly hungry, nor tired. They sat up late into the night brooding, starting at every night noise that they heard. Far off an owl hooted and Elladan jumped up, grasping his sword.

'It will get worse in the mountains,' Elrohir prophecied glumly. 'We will have to be on our guard constantly there. Why did Naneth have to take the Pass?'

'It was not known that the Orcs were taking that route,' Elladan consoled himself as much as his brother, sitting down again but keeping his hand on his sword. 'The Orcs were known to take the longer way around the mountains instead through them.'

'I know. But why did they have to take the Pass this time, when Naneth was going through it?' Elrohir was standing now, pacing around the small campfire.

'No one can answer that, Rohir, you know that! What matters is, it happened, and now Naneth is suffering at their hands perhaps and we are going to rescue her. So let us say no more about it.'

Elrohir sat down again and was silent. A moment later, though, he stood up again. 'Elladan, let us keep going. The horses are rested, and we are doing nothing but fret at our idleness.'

'It is dangerous to brave the mountains in the dark.' Elladan, though worried, knew how dangerous the narrow mountain paths could be in the dark.

'You were not afraid to go against Adar's orders to find Naneth, and yet you are afraid to continue searching in the mountains during the night! The mountains are not even treacherous for the first hundred miles.' Elrohir's voice was scoffing.

Elladan sat in silence, considering, for a few moments. At last he stood up with a sigh and said, 'Alright, we shall go on. But if the path gets too dangerous before sunup, we shall have to stop.'

Elrohir nodded his consent and rose to re-saddled Beleg and Beledhel while Elladan gathered their packs and blankets.

Soon they were on their way again, going as fast as was wise on the path towards the peak of the mountain. As they got farther up the air got colder and thinner. They did not speak much, for both were concentrating their thoughts on the peak of the mountain which seemed farthest away: Caradhras.

In Rivendell, Elrond paced the study in an agony of worry and anger, his boots making a firm clicking noise on the wooden floor. Every now and then, he strode to the window and looked out at the sky. It was nearing noon now, and he had heard nothing from either of his sons for a while.

His reverie was broken by a sharp knock on the door. 'Enter.'

The door opened slowly and a dark-haired Elf slipped in. He bowed, his right hand on his breast.

'Erestor,' said Elrond, giving a smile that did not reach his eyes.

'It is past the time for the mid-day meal, my lord. Will you come?' Erestor glanced around the room, silently gasping at the messy state of the study.

'I will come in a moment. Did you tell Elladan and Elrohir?' Elrond wasn't sure if he imagined seeing Erestor open and close his mouth before replying with a quiet, 'I shall go to their room.'

After Erestor left the study, Elrond quickly straightened his desk of the papers and maps which had been strewn over the top.

When he entered the dining hall five minutes later, he found he and Erestor were the only ones there. 'Where are the twins? Are they not coming?'

Erestor looked decidedly uncomfortable. 'Well... they were not in either of their rooms. On an impulse, we went to the stables: both Beleg and Beledhel are missing.'

'They defied me! I might have known they would. I told them in the strictest terms not to leave the Valley.'

'Perhaps they have not left to search for Lady Celebrian. Mayhap they have only gone for a ride by Bruinen.'

Elrond gave his counsellor a look that would freeze water in the middle of summer. 'Do not be foolish. I shall return in a moment.' Elrond stood up from his chair and strode out of the room, towards the training grounds, where he knew most of the Imladris Guard were training.

'Hérion! I want you to take a score of your best warriors to the mountains. Elladan and Elrohir have gone off without my permission after their mother. I want you to get them back.'

Hérion, the trainer, glanced at the long rows of Elven warriors fencing and practising their archery.

'I will gather them at once and leave. Fear not, my lord.'

Nonetheless, Elrond mused as he moved back towards the house, I do fear. There is some great evil in the mountains. My wife has been taken by it and my sons are running into it, rashly as always.

He ate his meal in silence, every now and then casting a glance at his chief counsellor, who was staring out the window towards the mountain range.

'Hérion has taken twenty of his command to search for the twins. They shall be found soon and I shall not let them out of my sight until Glorfindel returns.'

Erestor slowly turned his eyes to his lord. 'Why do you not let them go after her? You know they are more than adept with their weapons.'

'Two against who-knows-how-many? I am not a fool Erestor, whatever some others may think.'

'He who thinks you a fool is a fool himself,' Erestor replied. 'Still, driven with their anger and worry,' – here he glanced again at Elrond – 'I think that they will come to no harm, from the Orcs at any rate.'

Elrond merely grunted. 'I also was a twin, Erestor. I know what it is like when someone you love is taken from you and you have your other half pressuring you to do something, whether you like it or not.'

Erestor, not having had any siblings, had nothing to say and, with another sympathetic glance at his friend fell silent.

The sun came up and the twins quickened their pace. They knew from experience that Lord Elrond had almost certainly sent out some of the Imladris Guard to take them back, by force if need be, to Rivendell.

Since Orcs did not generally come through the mountains, the two Elves had little trouble for the next three or four days, though it was obvious that the foul creatures had been around.

However, nearing the sixth day, it became obvious that soon it would be impossible for the horses to continue the journey. Yet the twins persisted in their haste to get to their mother.

Suddenly, on a particularly snowy slender path, Beleg stumbled. As the horse fought to regain his footing, Elrohir kicked free of the stirrups. 'Beleg, neleth!' Beleg could not stop slipping.

'Elrohir, jump! He is going to go off the edge!' Elladan's frantic voice cut across Elrohir's desperate attempts to save Beleg.

For a breathless moment, it looked as though Elrohir were going to ignore his brother's shout, but at the last possible second he leapt off his beloved horse's back and landed on the snow in front of Beledhel.

Beledhel, spooked, reared up on his hind legs. Elrohir, who was too stunned to move, closed his eyes, waiting for the crushing pain of the iron-shod hooves being driven into his body.

But Beledhel had pranced backwards, away from his master's brother, and when he again landed, his forelegs were about a foot away from Elrohir.

An agonised whinny from his dying horse aroused Elrohir, who sat up shakily and looked around for his horse. His heart sank as he saw no trace except for the rocky side of the mountain edge where the snow had been scraped off by a heavy weight. 'Beleg?!' He scrambled over to the edge and looked down, distantly aware of his brother calling a warning. 'Beleg!'

'It is too late, Elrohir. He fell off the ledge. We do not know how far he fell. But it is too dangerous for us to continue with Beledhel. I shall send him back to the Valley.'

'But Beleg!'

'Ro, we can not do anything about him. You know that. Now come on.' The elder twin had dismounted and was cautiously turning his steed around on the snowy ledge. 'Noro lim, mellon nin, noro lim!'

Beledhel set off at a quick trot back towards the House of Elrond.

Elladan stood, staring up at the clear blue sky, deep in thought.

'Elladan! Elves. They are coming. They have caught up to us.' Elrohir finally turned away from the ledge where, sure enough, there were twenty or so horses and their riders slowly but steadily making their way up the mountain side, when he received no answer. 'Ladan?'

Elladan finally drew near to the edge and crouched there, staring at the tiny moving shapes. 'I wonder if we should merely wait here until they get to us. We may as well go back to Adar. Glorfindel, after all, is not coming back until he finds Naneth.'

'But Elladan, we have come this far, and now neither of us have horses. Besides, it might help put as back in Adar's good graces if we returned with Naneth,' he finished, making an attempt at humour. 'Besides, it was you who wanted us to find her so badly when we found out. It would not make sense for you to want to give up so soon.'

'Soon? Elrohir, it has been nearly a week. Most likely Glorfindel has already found her and is on his way back to Imladris with her.'

'He has not found her. We would have felt it, Elladan. You know we would have. Now stop making excuses and let us continue on. They are getting closer.'

Elladan sighed in resignation. 'Alright then. At least this part will slow them down. Surely they will not be so foolhardy as to attempt to bring their horses along here, as we did.'

'And we can always refuse to go with them. We are, after all, higher in rank than they are.' Elrohir stood up, dusting off the snow from his tunic.

'Yes, we are, but Adar is higher than we are, and he obviously sent them out to find us and bring us back tied in sacks if necessary, I expect.'

And so the two went on, running now, walking then. The snow was not deep for the wall of rock to the right of them overhung the path, keeping most of the snow from landing on the path. It was nearing the supper hour when the desperate twins began to tire, yet one thought drove them on through the deepening dusk:

Caradhras drew ever closer, looming up in the distance.

TBC...

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS

Mellon nin - my friend

Muindor nin - my brother

Neleth - steady

Noro lim, mellon nin, noro lim! - run swift, my friend, run swift!