Warning for language. Perhaps some violence. No slash.
AN Alright. This one has been bothering me for a while since I started to write it six months ago and I thought I might as well put it up. It has a lot of room for improvement and the plot might need a little tweeking, but I didn't want to make it all too complicated. So, tell me what you think! - DR
Summary Anything can happen as you least expect it. But how to cope, alone and injured? Sometimes stubborness and strong friendship may be the only viable way to survival...
-oOo-
The High Pass
-oOo-
All he was aware of was the freezing cold. A deep ice that seemed to grow in his body by the second. It was like cold fingers creeping slowly, nipping at his skin and turning it a prickling solid with their icy touch. Even with his mind working dangerously slow, one part shutting down after the other, Erestor felt that one nagging thought deep within.
Oh, this is what dying feels like.
It wasn't the heavy, shimmering veil he had once imagined it to be. Nor did he see a mesmerizing light beacon that was supposed to show him the way towards eternal rest. No, there was no light, no darkness. Just.. Nothing. An endless hole that consisted of nothing but the slow trickle of fading sensation.
It is.. peaceful.
He couldn't explain it any other way. But even reaching that conclusion made him tired, dead tired.
But then the fog broke. He became aware of the world again. Eyes screaming at the sky as burning, searing pain spiked through his leather boots, stabbing into his flesh!
"Gah!"
Kicking, wriggling and all out crushing the one struggling to hold onto his ankle with his other foot, he let the sudden rush in his newly awoken body take out his confusion, fear and that constant prickling in his head that told him this was all wrong.
It was so wrong!
When the pressure around his ankle slackened he collapsed onto his back. Chest heaving with effort his breath puffed out before him, the cold air chilling it instantly into white smoke. Silence settled again like a heavy cloak that suffocated everything around him. But the fall of something soft and cold on his face broke through his daze. A single, white snowflake caressed his cheek.
"Snow.." his blue lips choked out, his voice foreign to his own ears.
Struggling for some kind of anchor his icy hands gripped crumbling snow. The white mass prickled his fingers and he clenched his jaw as he used all his control to roll over in it. Knees propped him up slighly as his head looked out over the wide-stretched, white landscape.
He spat out blood that had somehow managed to trickle into his mouth from his broken lip. Grey eyes lingering on the disgusting forms of crude orcs that littered the pass. Unable to find what he was searching for, he raised himself into a unsteady stand, careful of putting weight on his injured ankle. He stumbled for a few steps, eyes frantic as he surveyed the dismal scene.
"Glorfindel?" His voice still wasn't strong enough and he swallowed convulsively in an attempt to moisten his throat. "Elladan!? Elrohir!?"
The wind was picking up, snowflakes dancing and swirling along the heavily snowed pass. The horses were dead. Slain and mutilated. Oh, Eru! He quickened his steps, floundering through the snow when he couldn't find strength to walk on it. He fell on his knees beside the large grey-white form of Asfaloth. The magnificent steed stone cold beneth his trembling hands.
Through the sorrow, his eyes caught sight of gleaming gold armour, a hint of bright hair sticking out from beneath a carcass.
"Glorfindel!"
With a speed he didn't know he had in him, he rushed over the fifty feet standing between them. Arms pulled at the orc lying over him before Erestor almost cried out with joy when he heard the strained breath drawn by the prone form.
"Glorfindel..!" He touched the blood smeared face, feeling the faint warmth radiating through the pale skin. "Oh, Glorfindel..."
"I hear you..." Came the weak reply. Blue eyes fluttered as Glorfindel grimaced, pain searing through his body now that he regained consciousness.
"Glorfindel.." Erestor did not know what to say, he was just so happy. So relieved. But Glorfindel soon drew him back to reality.
"Where are the others? Where are the twins?"
Erestor's eyes widened, breath freezing in his lungs as he jerked away, his head wheeling around in search for their remaining escort.
"Erestor..?" Glorfindel asked, but the elf left him to wander away down the pass. Glorfindel winced as he pulled himself up. Taking a quick inventory of where it hurt: His arm, his head and his side. He gasped as he pressed a hand to the deep gash in his flank, life blood seeping through his fingers. "Erestor!?"
The dark headed elf did not answer him and Glorfindel watched as Erestor crouched by a dark lump half covered by snow. Seeing the remnants of a sky blue cloak attached to the thing Glorfindel wrenched himself forward, ignoring the pain that stabbed through him and laboriously made his way in Erestor's direction.
All around him lay slain orcs and lifeless elves. Their small convoy of guards had been reduced down to nothing. Erestor must have noticed his approach, for his dark mussed head shot up, eyes glistening with tears. "It is Elrohir..! Come quick! I don't know what to do..!"
Kneeling beside them, Glorfindel froze as he saw the battered form.
Elrohir was as pale as death, barely breathing and covered in black orc blood. His tunic was shreaded, his armor bent as small cuts littered his form. But what Erestor was panicking about was the dark arrow burrowed straight through his left shoulder, dangerously close to his heart. The shaft was broken on one side from where the elf must have fallen on it and Erestor's shaking hands were wrapped around one end. His knuckles white as he tried to keep still.
"This is bad..." Glorfindel hissed.
"I know it is bad! Do something about it!" Erestor snapped, his eyes flickering between Glorfindel and Elrohir.
Glorfindel removed his soiled gloves, probing around the wound. "What about Elladan?"
Seeing as the arrow had cut clean through the flesh, Glorfindel debated what was best; to remove it and risk bleeding or allow it to stay in. Luck was against them. They were high up on the eastern side of the High pass, far from Rivendell and without horses. With little medical supplies and only some experience in treating wounds such as this leaving it in would be the best option. If a patrol managed to find them they could make it back in good time and have some of the healers treat it...
About to ask Erestor's opinion, he realized as he saw the stony expression on the dark elf's face that he had not answered his earlier question. "Erestor.. What about Elladan?"
Something unintelligible flashed across the advisor's face before Erestor lowered his head, hands tightening in their hold around the arrowshaft. "I cannot find him."
"What?"
"I could not find him!" Erestor bit out, teeth clattering. "I have counted t-the... The dead. They are all accounted for. Everyone but him."
Glorfindel pulled his hunting dagger out from his belt, slashing at Elrohir's tunic to gain more access to the enterance wound.
"Damn!" he cursed, startling Erestor. Grey eyes turned to blue and Glorfindel clenched his teeth.
"Poison," Glorfindel said and motioned towards the dark shaft and the sickly dark-blue veins that ran from it. "Well it has to come out now."
Erestor paled even further. "Is that necessary? What if you do more damage than it already has."
The advisor did not know much about elven anatomy or battle wounds, but he knew enough to know that the site of penetration was dangerous. Possibly life-threatening.
Eyes flashed at him with the familiar flare of the balrog slayer Glorfindel was known as. "He will bleed out if we don't remove it and stop any further spread of the poison. Since he will die either way I think it is better to do so now, than cowardly prolong it."
His words mush have rubbed the advisor the wrong way for Erestor immediately went on defence. Face darkening with determination.
"I won't allow it," Erestor said coldly and one hand stopped Glorfindel's as it reached for the shaft.
"Do not make me hit you Erestor," he growled dangerously.
"We are close to the border. Elrond is bound to have sensed something by now. He will send help."
Glorfindel shook his head, incredulous. "It will take them at least three days to reach here through all this snow. He won't last." Glorfindel hated to do this. But someone had to be the rational one. Oddly enough, it was him and not Erestor who provided it this time. Usually it was the other way around.
Erestor seemed to slump at his words, a single tear slipping down one cheek. His head hung and hid his face, yet Glorfindel knew that Erestor was all but satisfied with his decision. Thus, his next words surprised him.
"Do it."
Glorfindel stiffened at the dead tone. Pale hands released his and the shaft, the advisor folding away, dragging himself up on his feet.
"Erestor?" he called after him as he left.
What in the world?
Angered, Glorfindel shrugged the thought of the other elf from his mind. Let him, the fool! Instead he concentrated on the elf whose life was currently slipping through his fingers like sand. Glorfindel's conscience weighed heavily on him as he broke the shaft more cleanly with his dagger, hands pushing the slippery wood through the wound. A low, guttural sound bubbled from Elrohir's lips, the elf moaning in pain despite his unconscious state.
I am sorry. So sorry, Elrohir. He felt his eyes burn, but he wouldn't let his tears fall. Forgive me.
Glorfindel should have stopped this from happening. He should have noticed something was wrong once they entered the high route of the pass. He had been too focused on Rivendell. Too eager to please the twins as they complained that they would make it across despite a little snowfall. He should have listened to Erestor's warnings and held firm.
It is all my fault.
The wound bled more freely now. The dark liquid staining the snow beneath Elrohir like a blooming, red rose. He pressed some of it over the wound. Hoping that the cold would slow the bleeding or at least dull the pain and ease his passing.
Forgive me, Elrond. I failed to protect him...
Flashes of Elladan and Elrohir shouting his name as Asfaloth lost his footing in the snow and the orc cleaved at his legs. The sound of clashing steel, of death as he fell into the cold snow. Rising to a stand just in time to block the orc's black blade.
I failed the both of them...
His hands clenched as they pressed, his shoulders hunched while his form shook. The world was dimming and Glorfindel felt that familiar floating feeling of blood loss take over little by little.
A harsh shove on his shoulder pushed him out of the way.
Shocked, he watched Erestor throw himself over Elrohir. Packs of what he could only believe were medical supplies fell down with a plop beside him. Blue tinted lips removed the stopper of a blue glass vial, determination on the Advisor's face as he poured the liquid over the wound. Hands worked fast as they started to cleanse it.
"Stop your gawking and help me, dammit!" Erestor shot at the blonde.
Almost like on order, Glorfindel raised himself again. Hands clumsily filtered through the packs and pulled out wads of fabric and bandages. They would have to do. The two elves set about binding the wound as securely as they could with the elf propped up against Erestor.
"Any ideas?" Glorfindel huffed as he panted on the ground beside them. Erestor was holding Elrohir in his arms, the elf looked smaller than Erestor in his injured state despite being a foot taller.
"H-he is icy c-cold," Erestor said through clattering teeth. Glorfindel nodded, eyes scanning the pass. The High Pass was known for its caves. They in turn were known for hosting orcs. But as it was, even an old orc den would be preferable to icy wind and soaked clothing.
"Up there," Glorfindel said as he pointed to an opening along the rock wall. It would be a precarious climb, but it was shelter. Something they were in dire need of.
Erestor's face dropped as he followed his directions, the sharp incline and icy stone wall would be hard to climb alone, not to mention injured and carrying another elf. "Is that our only option?"
Blue eyes rolled at him. "Unless you wish to stay here, yes that is it."
Erestor's eyes settled on him, scrutinizing and sharp, "You are injured. How do you suppose you will climb with your side slashed wide open?" The advisor gently lowered Elrohir to the ground before rounding in on the golden haired elf. A hand reaching out to the bleeding gash, making Glorfindel gasp. "We need to tend to this."
"It is fine," Glorfindel protested despite the pain. "I've had worse than this."
"I do not doubt it," Erestor shot back. "But if you pass out on me, I won't be able to drag both you and Elrohir up into that cave."
Glorfindel clenched his jaw. "That won't be necessary," he ground out, standing.
Glorfindel did, however, regret his words later when they tried their hand at climbing the small cliff. It was cold and slippery with ice. No steady footholds, nor much more than thin crevices to hang on to. The way he had to move to get only a couple of feet up tore on his side. It burned and Glorfindel cursed his bad luck.
Erestor, it seemed, had foreseen this. "Stay here, I'll climb first and lower a rope." Glorfindel eyed the thin elven rope the dark elf pulled from the pack with medical supplies, a golden eyebrow rose questioningly.
"I gathered some things we might need," Erestor said, nonchalant, as if it was the most obvious thing to do when you find yourself struggling to survive after an orc ambush. The balrog slayer shook his head, perplexed by this adventurous Erestor that seemed to have taken over his friend's body. Still, Glorfindel was glad Erestor had planned things through. He himself had only searched for his sword before they headed towards the cave. Weapons had always been a priority of his and now, it seemed, even more so.
It did not take long for Erestor to climb the cliff and land on the small overhang above. A niggling worry settled in Glorfindel. Apparently that held true for Erestor as well, for he eyed the cave opening warily.
"It doesn't smell like orc," Erestor threw back at him, his voice barely audible over the small snowstorm whirling around them. His words did not lessen Glorfindel's worries though. The orcs that had surprised them earlier were fast and intelligent – well more so than the regular mindless orc. Glorfindel would not put it past them to hide in ambush.
"Shall I go in?" Erestor asked softly, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.
Glorfindel would prefer him not to, but they didn't really have much choice. Steadying his hold on Elrohir, he watched with bated breath as Erestor disappeared into the dark entrance. Five long minutes passed in silence before Erestor returned. His face scrunched up and hair dirty with cobwebs.
"It's empty," he called as he lowered the rope and slipped down it. His eyes were bright, filled with hope, and Glorfindel knew that finding the shelter had brought his spirits back up. He could feel his own rise as well. "Help me get Elrohir on my back."
Glorfindel frowned. "You're going to carry him up?" Erestor was an elf, but he was definitely shorter and less muscular than his warriors. Elrohir was no small elf either, and an unconscious one tended to weigh even more...
"I won't let you carry anything while you're bleeding like mad," Erestor shot back sternly.
Glorfindel huffed, but heeded Erestor's words with reluctance. He would be hardpressed getting up himself, and if he could be spared from dragging Elrohir up with him then perhaps he wouldn't have to rip his side open even more in the process.
Getting Elrohir up the cliff was no easy task. Erestor slipped twice on the icy surface, his dark hair twisting in the air as he pulled himself up with one hand, the other keeping a strong hold on the half-elf. Glorfindel could only stare mortified as Erestor slowly made his way up, elven curses slipping off the advisor's normally refined tongue whenever he lost his footing. Glorfindel pressed his hand to his side, jaw tight as he bit down the pain. The ache in his side had intensified and secretly, he feared that whatever poison the arrows were soaked in was also used on their blades.
Once it became his turn to climb, he was eternally grateful for Erestor's presence as the dark elf's help in pulling him up made his suffering much shorter. Panting at the top, Glorfindel collapsed to the ground.
"I told you we should have that looked at but you just won't listen, will you?" Erestor chided as he hoisted Glorfindel back on his feet and led him into the dim cave.
"Fire.." Glorfindel gasped out as another wave of pain shot through him. Erestor nodded and left to find something to burn. Glorfindel lowered himself beside the prone Elrohir. His hand reaching out to the younger elf's forehead.
As I thought. Fever.
Elrohir's limbs were cold but a heat was gathering within him. His forehead already damp with sweat. A flush rising on his pale face.
Glorfindel closed his eyes for a moment, slumping in his seat as he tried to think straight. They were in a cave. Without proper supplies, without water and injured. Night was creeping up on them and the temperature was falling below freezing. Fire was essential. Yes. That was it. Keep warm.
Erestor returned with small twigs and branches, some dry leaves from within the cave. Anything really that was able to burn without causing too much smoke. He felt the cold strongly. But he feared for Elrohir and Glorfindel more.
Elrohir was still somewhat stable, the wound had neither worsened nor improved. He was alive for now and that was what mattered. Glorfindel was worse for wear as well. The blonde a mess with blood crusted hair and skin, his normally golden skin had turned pale as snow and dark shadows lay beneath his eyes. Erestor needed to see to those injuries, and quick! The sickly feel around Glorfindel did not feel normal.
After starting a small fire that was big enough to warm them yet inconspicious enough to allow their presence to remain hidden from the entrance, Erestor cornered the blonde.
"Strip Glorfindel."
"What?" Glorfindel asked, confused.
"I won't take any more of this. Either you comply and allow me to tend to that gash of yours or I'll see to it when you are unconscious. Your choice."
Glassy eyes warred with Erestor's for a moment, before the balrog slayer sighed, attempting to remove his light armour. He cursed when his fingers would not obey him and visibly flinched once Erestor started loosening the straps and clasps for him.
"I will never hear the end of this..." The blonde muttered as he allowed the advisor's hands to divest him of his over tunic and the thinner silk one beneath. Erestor's fingers felt cold on his skin, and he wondered how the elf could be so unaffected by the seemingly frosty bite of the air on his appendages.
Erestor hissed as he saw the gash, long and deep along Glorfindel's right side. The edges were raised and pink, an angry heat setting into the skin. Glorfindel's eyes looked distant and unattached, as if he was not seeing his own body's horrendous state, but studying another elf instead. Erestor supposed it was his way of dealing with the pain. For that gash must hurt tremendously.
"It looks far worse than it is..." Glorfindel said softly. But one look at Erestor told him the elf did not believe it one bit.
"Well, I will tend to it anyway. Lie down on your side," Erestor said briskly.
Glorfindel grumbled as he slid down on his good side. At least the healers in Rivendell had some bedside manners. Hissing, he felt stinging liquid being poured over the open flesh. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself someplace else. Somewhere that could distract him from the pain.
His mind turned to Rivendell. The wonderful valley as it bloomed splendidly in spring. The warm smiles of the elves as he passed them in the street. Arwen as an elfling, dancing in her mother's garden. The twins splashing in the Bruinen during the summer. Elrond and Erestor laughing with him as the three of them watched Elladan and Elrohir run around naked, painted like warriors of Mirkwood with streaks of mud. Their elfling laughter ringing down the halls.
The sharp stabbing of a needle through his flesh dragged him back to the surface and he let out a small gasp as it pierced a particularly sensitive stretch of skin.
"Looks like you'll have another scar to show your ladies, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel scowled in Erestor's direction, even if he knew the elf didn't see his face as he was busy sewing him back together. Inwardly, Glorfindel knew he was right. The wound would leave a scar unless they got proper care soon. Erestor's rough healing was good for the moment, but it left much to be desired. Glorfindel already had his fair share of scars, some new, others remnants from his former life. It was unusual, as elves seldom scarred. But during his long years of wars and fighting, he had gathered them and soon his body was riddled with the pale things. Some were thin lines, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking for them. Others, such as the large burn from the Balrog's whip down his back, were more prominent. Thankfully, his reputation and heroic deeds saved him the shame that usually accompanied such marred skin. His scarred body was overlooked by his admirers as they became more of a sign of his bravery, rather than marks of his past failures.
Erestor cut the thin tread, thankful for the seuture kit that had come with them in the medical pouch he had found. It looked a bit uneven and some places were too tight to allow much movement, but at least the wound was closed. Elven healing being quicker than that of Man made it easier to patch them up. Thankfully, their inner healing ability would compensate for his skill and hopefully make it not such an ugly scar as it made itself out to be.
He looked down with slight pity on the shivering form. Glorfindel, despite his attempts to look unaffected by it all was falling apart at the seams. The proud Glorfindel of Gondolin, advisor and commander of Rivendell, had been degraded into a simple elf. A wounded elf that needed his concern, for Erestor doubted Glorfindel would show himself the same concern he gave his subordinates. Glorfindel was harsh in that way since he expected far more from himself than he did of others. Proof that a shread of the being he once was remained in this reborn form.
"Rise, my friend," Erestor said with a light touch to his arm.
"Thank you," Glorfindel whispered as he allowed Erestor to bind him with bandages. He felt exhausted and every minute he had to stay upright drew more and more from his petering reserves. Warmth shone in Erestor's grey orbs and Glorfindel knew that his gratitude had been conveyed and accepted by his friend. It was strange. How Erestor and Glorfindel had these moments where words were unnecessary. Erestor was a good friend, a sometimes uptight and stern one, but he had his moments where Glorfindel could honestly admit that he was lucky in befriending such an elf.
When the rest of his wounds had been tended, Erestor demanded that they eat something. Small rations of lembas and dried meat was shared between them. Each elf savoring the small bits of food, knowing that the less they ate, the longer they would be able to outlast their imminent starvation. They ate in silence, Erestor warming some snow over the fire for them to drink.
In the fading light, Glorfindel watched as Erestor tended his ankle, binding it tightly as the sprain and angry clawmarks had caused it to swell. Otherwise the elf was mostly unscathed. Bruised and sporting a cut lip, yes, but minor injuries. Erestor gave credit to the guards that had defended him with their lives, as his own abilities with the sword were weak and rusted from years of neglect.
The mention brought an overhanging sorrow into the cave. Both elves felt the loss of their comrades keenly, having known many of the elves that perished that day. They did not speak of it. There was no point in it. Both felt guilt and regret for it. But it had happened, and no amount of rumination on the subject would change it. Nor bring back the dead...
A groan from beside him brought Glorfindel's attention to the half-elf. Elrohir was shifting in the uneasy healing sleep he had fallen in. There was no longer any doubt that the poison was running its course. His body was warming, a fire-like fever consuming him. Glorfindel's mind tried to remember the different poisons used to reach such an affect. But for all his thinking, he could not find it.
Erestor closed in on the other side. Worried eyes gazing down on Elrohir as he used some snow wrapped in cloth to cool his brow. "It's getting worse."
"And it will continue doing so until it has run its course," Glorfindel said, face grim. "This is no minor scrape or fleshwound. It dug deep and close to his heart. The circulation will carry it fast and unless we find an antidote, there is nothing really we can do other than wait and hope for the best."
Erestor's face darkened further. His brows knitting. "And if we had the antidote. What are his chances?"
"If we had the correct one, I would say considering the time of exposure and the potency of the poison itself..." He didn't have to finish, for understanding concerning the graveness of their situation flashed over Erestor's face like lightning. It was there one second and then it disappeared behind a carefully wrought mask of indifference. The only time Erestor used that particular mask was to hide a storm of emotions inside. When he felt he needed to stay calm to be able to think properly. Seeing the balled fists by Erestor's sides, Glorfindel knew that the harsh truth was not something the advisor wanted to accept.
The night passed slowly. The fire burned down into embers and Glorfindel and Erestor found themselves in periods of fitful sleep. Waking up at the smallest of sounds: The shrill wind outside, the pop of the fire, the growing moans from Elrohir. Erestor, being the one better off, took it upon himself to keep watch over the ailing Elrohir. Adjusting his heat; cooling him when he became too warm, heating him up when the cold sweat and shivers started. He listened to the mutterings, the calls for Elrond, for his mother. For Elladan.
In those dark hours of the night, Erestor despaired over his own helplessness. A sinking feeling which had grown over the past few hours finally settled as an icy lump in his stomach.
Elladan.. What has happened to you?
Was he out there, in the snow and ice, freezing to death? Had he somehow escaped battle? Or had the orcs taken him? In his heart Erestor knew the answer. For although his logical mind tried to lie to him to save him the pain, his heart could only see the truth. And it was a bitter one indeed.
What would they tell Elrohir, if he survived the night? Brushing sweaty strands of hair from the face so similar to his father's, Erestor wondered at the fate of these young elves. How could he tell him that his twin is missing and possibly dead? The loss of their mother had been hard enough on them to put them into years of misery and she lived. Elladan's death would be the end of him. Of Elrond. It broke Erestor's heart to imagine how his death would rip open the scars of the newly healed family.
"..Dan.."
Erestor clasped his hand, holding it tightly.
"Everything is going to be fine, Elrohir." His soft spoken words echoed in the cave. A small voice clinging desperately to sanity.
"Ada..please..."
Erestor closed his eyes, throat clenching painfully. He dragged a hand through matted hair, smoothed it back and hopefully eased some of Elrohir's fears.
"Sleep... Sleep and wake to the sun," Erestor whispered, his voice like a chant, filled with restrained emotion.
In the darkness, blue eyes peered at them. Silent, but observant as he watched the elf whispering reassurances. His body ached. But his heart ached more.
For although he should be the strong one. Glorfindel had no comforting words to offer.
.oOo.
The night offered no respite for Elrond. He had felt strange and oddly restless for most of the day. By experience, the elven lord knew not to ignore his body when it was trying to tell him something, but try as he might, he could not understand the bad feeling he was having.
It was not until later that night, when he woke to an ominous foreboding and a burning on his finger that he realized what was wrong. Launching himself out of bed, he quickly donned a robe and left for the highest balcony of his home. His silver eyes stared fixed at the tall mountain peaks in the distance. His stomach twisting with unease and a growing sense of fear.
Reaching out with Vilya, Elrond scanned his borders. The power of the elven ring filled him, lifting his senses and allowed him to see beyond his sight. It was there, a faint presence just beyond his reach. A lingering shadow containing small dots of light. The lights flickered restlessly, some more than others. Closing his eyes, he swallowed his own self, drowning as he entwined his fëa with the ring.
He fell away panting, the world returning to him in a rush and he found himself leaning weakly on the railing. His strength depleted as it tended to become whenever he forced his connection with Vilya. The ring wore him down with each use.
But he had received his answer.
Elladan.. Elrohir... He fought the nausea that threatened to overcome him. The weakened state of their fëas disturbed him greatly.
Elrond gripped the railing hard. He needed to sound the alarm. To send for a retrieval patrol. Time is of essence. He had no time to wallow in despair.
It did not take long before the elves had assembled in the courtyard. Elrond himself stood dressed in sword and armour. Arwen waited frightened by his side. Fear laced her eyes as her hands held on tightly to his arm.
"Ada. You must bring them back." Her words were heavy with despair, as her perceptive nature had quickly picked up on the grave situation. Elrond gave a reassuring look. He did not want to worry her. Elrond was too worried himself and someone needed to keep a cool head long enough to manage the realm in his absence. He cursed the fact that both Erestor and Glorfindel were out there. But at least it gave him some relief knowing that Glorfindel was near. The blonde would protect his sons with his life if necessary. Elrond knew this.
"I will be back as soon as I can."
"We will await your return, Father." She gave a slight bow of her head, even though Elrond knew she wanted to reach out to him with a hug. "I will prepare the rest. Just... bring them back."
He gave a weak smile, their troop mounting their horses and riding down the stone bridge. Wind rushed through his hair as he led the warriors out along the hidden pathway of the valley. His mind lingered on his sons. His fëa not being able to connect easily over such a distance, he felt worry gnaw at him. He felt helpless, naked without the ring on his finger. Because Vilya never left the valley as it kept it hidden and protected Elrond left it behind in safe keeping. Yet without it Elrond was reduced to a simple elf. Unable to reach out and comfort his sons without actually being there.
As they rode closer towards the border he could feel Vilya's power fading, deminishing as it was known to do. Their borders were strong, but not because of the ring. Their warriors defended it. Kept them safe while the ring hid it, tricked the eye and misled their enemies.
They rode through the night and well into the next evening before the snow of the moutain pass stopped them in their tracks. The High pass was steep and well shielded by the surrounding mountains. It being the northern pass it was prone to have snow and blizzards were not uncommon. The high walls retained it far longer than the other more southern passes, which made it difficult to cross for most of the year. This snow, however, seemed to have surprised even the mountains themselves. He surveyed how the thick blanket lay over the ground, making it impossible, not to mention dangerous, to ride.
A patrol rode out to meet them from the nearest outpost. The leading elf was one of Glorfindel's captains – Alderon – who was responsible for overseeing the route east. "My Lord Elrond," he greeted with a bow as the troupe dismounted. "What brings you to the east border?"
"A grave matter indeed, Alderon. I have sensed a great disturbance along the High Pass. I fear some of our own may be caught up in it."
The elf frowned, his auburn hair shifting with the rising winds from the mountain. "That is disturbing indeed. We have had orc activity recently. Groups of them trying to pass down the mountain." He glanced at the tall mountainous wall before him, his face grim. "We cleansed the high route four days ago. But the growing snow stopped us from doing the same along the lower one. It had piled on too high for the horses and nothing living would willingly put itself in its grasp while the snow still rules."
Elrond's mind darkened. Snow rarely mattered to orcs. They would simply hole themselves up and wait for it to pass. "I fear the returning escort from Mirkwood returned along the high route. If the snow has continued on for as long as you say it has, the pass must have snowed shut," he said, worried.
"If you will wait for us, my Lord, I will send for more men." Alderon whistled to one of the guards, who understanding hastened back to the outpost. "You will have to leave your horses. They will not go any further and they would only slow you in your search."
Elrond nodded. "Prepare stretchers and see to it that you are all well stocked with necesseties. Foul things are at work in that icy maze. But I will draw my last breath before I let the angry mountain claim what is my own."
.oOo.
"How do you feel?" Glorfindel asked as he gazed at the darkheaded elf seated across from him.
Erestor gave a dry laugh, "Do you really need to ask?" He hid his face in his hands, where he reclined against the stone wall. That heavy curtain of hair hiding the rest of him from view.
Two hours ago, Glorfindel had been forced to knock Elrohir unconscious. Whatever poison was running in his bloodstream was turning him half mad. The pain alone was frightening, but the haunted screams he let out because of it were worse. Listening to them had been unbearable. It had caused Erestor's calm facade to finally crack listening to the sounds, leaving the broken form of an elf behind.
Glorfindel tried not to dwell on it. The way those grey eyes shimmered with a mad light whenever Elrohir started his howling. The way those lips tightened and turned white from the pressure, pressed into a thin line that made Erestor seem so much older. No. It would not bode well to dwell on such things. Only when Erestor's fingernails pressed hard enough into the skin of his arms to draw blood did Glorfindel decide that enough was enough. The move had been swift but effective. The endless shouting faded into nothing and the half-elf became once again oblivious to the world around him.
He did not regret it. And given the chance Glorfindel would gladly have done it again. Yes, despite the poisonous look Erestor kept throwing his way when he thought he was not looking. Despite the guilt that tore at his own conscience.
As long as they remained sane he would do whatever it takes to keep them so.
"You should rest," Glorfindel whispered, his voice had long since lost its substance as he fought against the rising burn in his own body.
"I do not feel like resting," Erestor replied with equal calm.
"Then what do you feel like doing?" Glorfindel said darkly, tired of this game. This play of never saying what was on their minds, because showing weakness in front the other confimed that you are weak. Helpless. It sickened him and scared him at the same time. Because Glorfindel knew, on some dark level, that he was losing himself. Drowning in a carefully spun mask that served as the only barrier between staying put and doing something drastic.
Erestor raised his head to look at him, eyes shimmering again. "Leaving this place. To search the snow for Elladan until my fingers and toes fall off from the cold. Climb the nearest peak and throw myself down from it! Choose your pick, because either way it would actually make me feel like I am doing something worthwhile. Something that matters." He released a long pent up sigh, fingers digging into the dirt beneath him. "I cannot do this anymore, Glorfindel."
"You have no right to choose," Glorfindel growled at him. "You've made your choices, Erestor. You made it the second you started to stop Elrohir from bleeding out on us. You chose this!"
"I have every right!" Erestor protested loudly, his voice booming in the small cave.
He stood stiffly, panting as the rage, frustration and anger simmered down inside him. Glorfindel watched the madness abate in his eyes, saw Erestor return back to himself. His balled fists shook beside him as the advisor fought back his control.
"Forgive me," Erestor whispered.
"Do not do this to me, Erestor..." Glorfindel said tiredly, vaguely aware that he was shivering; from cold or the strength of his emotions he did not know. "Do not leave me behind."
His side burned. A fierce aching that pressed his limits. But as long as Erestor remained strong, so would he. He would not abandon Erestor to face this all by himself. Because Glorfindel feared being left behind alone in the growing dark far more than the pain wrecking his body. He did not hear any reply Erestor might have given, but he stiffened as arms folded around him awkwardly.
"I never planned to leave you, my friend. Never have and never will." Unwillingly, Glorfindel leaned into the embrace. The pool of emotions inside him stilling, becoming as smooth and clear as the Bruinen. It flowed strong and fierce with its deep currents, but remained serene on the surface. He felt Erestor shift uneasily, cheek moving to rest against Glorfindel's forehead. "You are burning up. Why haven't you said anything?"
He couldn't help the glance his eyes threw at Elrohir. It was only for a fraction of a second but Erestor still caught it. His eyes narrowing in response. "You are poisoned as well."
Glorfindel closed his eyes, not wishing to see the sense of betrayal his mistrust had caused his friend. "Yes."
Instead Glorfindel was pulled forward harshly, hands gripping his shoulders. "You incomprehensible, stubborn fool! I thought two lifetimes would give you an inkling of wisdom but you have proven me wrong once again, Glorfindel." Erestor pulled back with a sad smile on his face, grey pools filled with fear again. Not for himself but for Glorfindel. And it hurt seeing it. "Only you would think hiding something as important as this is wise. Do you trust me that little?"
"I.." He tried to tell him that no, Glorfindel did trust him, but he did not trust himself. He did not want to worry the elf more than he already was and telling him would only result in that. Glorfindel did not trust himself not to hurt his friend.
He clutched his head, dizziness warping his vision.
"Do not talk," Erestor spoke softly, as if to a spooked animal. "I know your heart, Glorfindel. It is braver than any I've ever known."
"You wish to carry the world on your shoulders. But you have yet to realize that it is a weight far beyond the strength of a single elf." Erestor pushed him back to rest against the ground. The cloaks they wore isolating them from the cold dirt. Erestor gave a tense smile, little more than a curl of his lips. "Even a renown balrog slayer is not invincible."
"Forgive me." Glorfindel couldn't seem to stop saying those words lately. He gazed at the rocky ceiling, watching the specks of light from the fire dance all over it. Cold, wrapped snow settled against his forehead. Erestor nimbly checking his bandages.
"I do not think the wound in your side is poisoned," he said as he slowly wrapped it back together. The skin there held none of the discoloration that had marred Elrohir's wound. In fact, it was healing, if only a little infected along part of the edges. "Did you get nicked by an arrow on your leg?"
Erestor watched Glorfindel frown, his whole face scrunching together with the effort it took to think. Erestor silently continued his scan, gently checking each wound again. The wound on Glorfindel's calf had looked like a shallow cut when he last tended it, but Erestor with his inexperience in the matter could not tell for sure whether it had actually been a sword that had made it.
"It certainly stings like hell..." Glorfindel muttered, now noticing the cool burn in the limb. Had he been so concentrated on repressing pain that he had lost focus and missed it? His side certainly ached more...
He heard Erestor hiss as he uncovered the wound. "'Yes. It is definitely this one."
There was a clink of metal as Erestor removed his belt, winding it high around Glorfindel's leg, middle thigh for good measure. "It's spreading, but not as fast as Elrohir's. You are lucky, you might still be saved."
Glorfindel's eyes went wide as he felt cool fingers touch the limb, his mind panicking. "You won't do something stupid like cutting it off just to stop the spread, will you?" The thought of having his leg sawed off and be made even more vulnerable made Glorfindel's head spin. He had lived through ages as a warrior. Not being able to continue as one threatened to turn his world upside down. Fear filled him just thinking about it.
"Of course not!" Erestor shot back at him, pinching the leg hard to drag Glorfindel back from the dark trail his mind had scurried off on. "Cut it open around it and drain the wound. Then sew it back together. Keeping it bound and removing as much of the affected area as possible should stop it."
Glorfindel sent a poisonous glare his way. "Admit it. You enjoy torturing me. Is this pay back for all those times I teased you for your skittish behavior around Miriel? Because if it is, Elrond was the one goading me to do it! Go cut him open instead."
That drew a morbid smile from the elf. "Elrond is not here, you are. Now bite onto this and keep still!"
Glorfindel glared icily at the piece of fabric thrown his way. There was no arguing with this Erestor and he did not know if he should feel better seeing the confidence on Erestor's face, or worry for his own safety. He better not damage my leg permanently, he thought sourly. His face twisting in pain as he felt the blade cut through the upper layers of his flesh.
Erestor ignored the pained sounds as best he could. His hands steady despite the trembling he felt himself doing. It looked worse than it was. But inflicting pain on another elf, no matter how necessary, did not sit well with him. Once he had removed the discolored flesh Erestor used his hands to try and press out as much polluted fluid and blood as possible from the surrounding areas. The athelas water they had used on Elrohir had helped against the poison, but it was not as affective as he had hoped. Cleaning it with the disinfectant was the easy part, Erestor only wished it was enough to save the limb.
"Just a bit left.." Erestor said as he tried to reassure the blonde. Glorfindel had gone stiff and tense. His whole body strung taut like a bowstring. Pulling the flaps of skin together Erestor stitched it and layered some athelas infused wads over it. Binding it tight.
"I hope you are not planning on joining the healing ward's staff once we get back. Because I know some elves that would not be happy about being treated by an elf indifferent to another's suffering," Glorfindel bit out tiredly, face strained.
Erestor scoffed. "Don't worry. I don't plan on leaving my office, not to mention Rivendell, for a very long time. I've had my fill of adventure for years to come."
"Good. Because I wouldn't like having to discipline you for insensitive behavior towards the misfortunate." Glorfindel gave a weak smile, his eyelids feeling heavy as he tried to stay awake. The strain of the past days bore down on him mercilessly.
Erestor adjusted the cooling wrap again, discreetly placing his own cloak over the blonde. Glorfindel would never accept it willingly, but in his current state he wouldn't notice the light fabric covering him. "Rest, Glorfindel."
"You do realize.. that I told you... the exact same thing just an hour ago..." his voice was sluggish, dragging the vowels and making him seem like a drunkard on the verge of passing out.
Erestor resisted smiling and settled more firmly between the two prone elves. "Yes, but someone has to cover your back, in case something happens. I'll wake you if anything changes."
"I will.. hold you to your word. Watch.. 'Rohir.. Erestor..." Clear blue eyes slipped beneath closed lids. The silence only penetrated by the slow breaths of his companions. Erestor leaned over his knees. Eyes fixed on the flickering flames and the once again falling night that shrouded the sky.
Come soon, Elrond. We are running out of time...
.oOo.
It wasn't until the second day of traveling with only short bouts of rest that the party of elves reached the other side of the mountain. The path had been snowed in and shovels tore a path through the treacherous road. Elves especially light on their feet had been sent ahead to scout the area. The light snow was dangerous and disturbing it could prove to become fatal. Alderon had sent another party further down along the lower route. Trails of orcs lingered down that pass and it worried all of them that the foul creatures might be lying in wait to receive them on the other side.
Their movements were slow and careful. It was frustrating to make so litte progress and many of the older warriors grit their teeth from all the waiting. It was two hours later that day when the first scout returned, his hair windblown and his face slightly red from the harsh winds peltering on it.
"My Lord, the path on the other side is deep with snow as well. But there are signs of a struggle further down around the bend. The snows hide much, but there is a lingering dark hanging over the road." His eyes became steel as he reached for something from his pack. "I found this on one of the carcasses we found."
Elrond took the offered item. A broken piece of shaft decorated by the familiar fletching of his realm. "What about the snows? Is it safe?" He hated waiting for the roads to clear, but he wouldn't – couldn't! – endanger his elves unnecessarily.
The elf straightened, face tensing. "It is weak in some places and the crests are treacherous for they often hide the end of the mountain rock. But once we pass down the side and into the gorge, the road is safe enough."
"Right.." Elrond turned to Alderon. "Send five elves at a time, with twenty minutes in between. It should leave enough time for each group to pass over to stable ground."
The scout added, "I've left marks along the safest path, follow it carefully."
With that Elrond, the scout and another three elves made their way slowly over the dunes of snow. Elrond had a harder time than the others, having to strain his elven abilities more to refrain from sinking into the loose snow. The wind pierced around the mountain, whining loudly as it tried to tear the footing from under their feet.
Elrond clenched his jaw, detemination set on his features. He would not fail now. Not when he was this close. At this distance he could sense a faint flicker of fëa. It was dim but clear enough to his mind. The familiarity in it reminded him of Elrohir, and knowing it was his fëa that was so weak spurred Elrond on even more.
Once they reached the slope down into the gorge they discovered true horror. The mountain had been thorough in hiding its secrets, but when they stumbled upon more than one frozen solid elf body his heart dropped in his chest. Another two groups made it over the dangerous side of the mountain and without needing to be asked, the elves set about gathering their dead. Their faces grim as they separeted the firstborn from the crude orc carcasses. Reverently, they placed them in a cleared up area to wait for their funeral pyre.
Elrond wandered restlessly around the area. His mind searching for that glimpse of fëa, something to lead him to them. Only the fact that neither his sons or his advisors had been found dead yet gave him strength to walk at all. He did, however, feel his hopes drop when he stumbled upon Asfaloth. Glorfindel's packs and gear still attached to the once proud animal.
Are you even alive? Or have I come too late? He shut his eyes against the dread rolling up in him. Wordlessly he begged the Valar for some kind off sign and almost fainted when one of the warriors cried out.
"Look! Hithlain!"
Elrond swiveled around. His eyes feasting on the misty material spun into a thin rope. The length glistened with snowflakes where it hung in the distance. The elven rope had been left to hang as every elf knew hitlain rope would never betray its owner and would spontaneously drop its knot if an enemy with ill intent tried to climb it.
Thank you!
The Valar had listened and Elrond could cling to hope a while longer.
.oOo.
Erestor wrapped his arms around himself more closely. His breath misting before his eyes. The day seemed even colder than the last two and after having spent most of the kindle, Erestor had been forced to ration his little pile of twigs and leaves, keeping his fire limited to the nights and only sparsely burning for warmth during the day.
Both Elrohir and Glorfindel had settled properly during the night. Their sleep now less feverish and more healing than he had expected. The two now lay almost wrapped together on the dirt floor as body heat was effective and a most powerful tool in keeping the cold out.
Erestor glanced at the pile of cloaks and tangled limbs. Relieved to see the slight rise and fall of their chests. He had worried that they would not make it. That they would worsen during the night. But his fears, it seems, were unfounded. Still, he could not forget those dark thoughts that plagued him during those dark hours. Only dawn managed to raise his spirits and the fact that Erestor felt the snow ease up in its onslaught made it seem even brighter.
He retreated from his thoughts when sounds not from within reached his ears. His hand immediately reached for his sword. There were voices outside. Soft ones that definitely did not belong to the crude throats of an orc.
Untangling his stiff body, he leaned back against the wall of the cave. His height barely allowed him to stand straight in the low cave, but with his knees slightly bent he moved carefully towards the enterance.
"Look! Hithlain!"
His sword clattered to the ground with the words. His legs shaking and barely holding him. He could hear the slight movements outside. Feet and the soft rustle of clothing.
"Glorfindel.." he whispered, but the blonde did not stir. He should go wake the blond, but no matter how much his mind ordered his body to move, his feet would not obey him. Instead he found himself sliding down the wall, his breath tightening. The sounds became louder and soon a shadow stepped in front of the entrance. Surprise written all over the elf's features.
"Over here!" the elf shouted down the cliff. A captain, his mind registered, eyes fixed on the emblem holding his cloak fastened around his shoulders. A hand settled on his shoulder, the elf crouching down before him. "Lord Erestor.. Are you alright?"
Grey eyes searched his, watched the confusion in the warrior. "Elrohir.. Glorfindel.. Bring a healer..."
"Erestor!" Another shadow fell to his knees beside him, all dark sweeping hair and starlit silver.
"It is good to see you!" Elrond's hand clenched his firmly, that strong presence sending calm into him. "Alderon, warm him up!"
"Of course, my Lord."
Erestor vaguely registered Elrond disappearing further down the cave. Other elves brimmed into the enclosed space. Carrying wood and other supplies which were hastily set to use. A large, warming fire was built by the enterance. It's heat surging deep into his limbs.
Alderon looked at the worn and bloodied appearance of the Advisor. Such a far cry from the normally pristine elf. He seemed dazed and confused, and rightly so considering the hustle and bustle that started in the cave. They had found their quarry. It was a happy sight to find them alive.
"Drink this," he offered, lifting the flask of mirvor to his chapped lips. The elf drank eagerly. His face lost some of its tension once the warm, healing effects of the cordial set in.
Erestor pushed away the flask, his cheeks flushed. "Did you see him?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer.
"What?"
Erestor grabbed hold of Alderon's shoulder, the grip almost painful. "Has Elladan come through the pass?"
Erestor knew that he was clinging to dead hope. But he could not stop himself. If there was a chance – any at all! – he would entertain it until the very last minute. Elrond had come for them. But what would he say once he realized his eldest was not with them?
.oOo.
Elrond immediately sat to work. They were both in bad shape and worry settled in for his friend and son. Both were reasonably warm, but there was a lingering sense of sickness surrounding the two. He cursed himself for not bringing Erestor with him as it took far longer finding the reason for it without him. But the elf had seemed so out of sorts when they found him – shock, his mind reminded him – that Elrond knew that they wouldn't get anything out of him before he was stable.
He thanked the Valar that they had managed to find shelter in this cold place. It would have been impossible for them to survive three days without the safety of the cave. That, and seeing the state Elrohir was in was enough to make Elrond grateful for the elves' quick thinking.
"Elrond..?"
"Glorfindel, good you are awake." He moved over to the blond, eyes taking in the glassy sheen to his eyes. "How do you feel?"
"I have been worse," he tried to rise, but Elrond pushed him back down. The balrog slayer immediately stopped his struggling. He had neither will nor strength to battle the elflord at this point. "Elrohir.. Check his wound. He was poisoned."
Elrond hastily searched his son. His hands freezing at the sight of the improvised bandage over his left shoudler. Fumbling a little, he unwrapped the covering, staring down at the still raw, but thankfully not bleeding wound. He forced himself to ignore how close the wound was to Elrohir's heart. He needed to keep a cool head and losing his nerve now would only make things worse. "How long?"
"Three.. almost four days now?" Glorfindel winced as he turned unto his side. Cursing himself for his frailty. "We bound it with athelas but it hasn't stopped it."
Elrond frowned, reaching a hand out to the boy's forehead.
"He's been feverish the last few days." Both the two elves' eyes flew up. Erestor, wrapped in what looked like a heavy guard's cloak, stepped up behind them. His tired eyes fixed on Elrohir's prone form. "The wound has not changed and I've only managed to get some water into him. He's delirious and incoherent.. I..."
"He's not dying," Elrond said firmly, reading into the desperation in his old friend's eyes. "It's spider poison, made from one of the smaller species that reside south in Mirkwood."
"Mirkwood?" Glorfindel questioned. "Why would they have such a poison?"
"Why indeed," Elrond said as he pulled a small leather pouch out of his pack. A tinkle of tiny, different colored glass viles followed the movement. He pulled out a clear one containing a strange red liquid. "Orcs move far and wide. The High Pass has always been a place for them to take refuge. They must be in alliance with goblin town. That foul place is guarded well from the angry snows."
Erestor watched anxiously as Elrond tended to Elrohir. The elf barely reacted when the antivenom was administered then infused into the still healing wound, sizzling as it hit tainted flesh. Elrond's healing powers hummed in the cave, his fëa binding with his old healing spells to draw forth and strengthen Elrohir's resistance against the invading poison. Urging the body to cleanse the foul substance from his blood.
Glorfindel reached out to the hunched figure of Erestor. The relief that had spread inside the balrog slayer at the sight of his Lord did not seem to have helped ease Erestor's worries. No doubt the advisor was concentrating on the snows outside. Glorfindel knew that the elf would like nothing more than to continue the search for the missing twin, even if his body would crash from exhaustion quicker than he could scale down the cliff.
Alderon approached silently, discreetly calling attention to himself by clearing his throat. Not wanting to interfere with Elrond's actions, but needing his attention none the less.
Elrond wiped his hands on his leggings. His eyes still worried but much reassured knowing Elrohir will survive. They had been just in time, if but a day later...
"Report," Elrond said as he wrapped the bandages back into place. His head turning to see the grim expression on the captain's face once no response was forthcoming. "What is it?"
Alderon clenched his jaw. His face clearly bothered. "There are no other survivors, my Lord. All elves have passed on." The small group of elves turned silent. Faces riddled with pain for the loss of so many kinsmen. Yet, the hardest revelation was yet to come. Alderon shifted. "We have yet to find Lord Elladan, my Lord."
Silver eyes froze, before sweeping over the darkness of the cave. The fire at the enterance barely provided enough light to allow him to see the shadows of walls surrounding him. "Elladan..."
Disbelief followed by undisguisable grief filled the old elf's face. Elrond's shoulders hunched even further as a new degree of weariness poured over his frame.
Erestor stiffened once that face turned to his. Glorfindel's hand tightened reflexively on his knee once Elrond's despondent tone filled the air:
"What happened? Where is my son?"
Erestor closed his eyes. His fears finally come to life. Yet, as he opened his mouth to give the hard truth, he was interrupted.
"We do not know, Elrond." Glorfindel's voice was low, yet steady despite his upset. Blue eyes looked Elrond straight in the eye. The glassy gleam from the fever barely softened the hard stare. "I fear... That Elladan has been taken captive."
"Captive..." Elrond seemed unable to comprehend. Neither elf said anything, waiting for the lord to come to terms with the news. "By orcs?"
Glorfindel nodded.
Elrond's hand tightened around Elrohir's, the latter stirring faintly at the contact. A mumble, so familiar over the past days time, struck straight through Elrond's heart. The ache settling in as his face contorted with pain, for himself and for his family.
"He won't be able to take it..." Elrond said, almost as if speaking to himself. His eyes never leaving the vulnerable face of his son. Turning to despair, he whispered, "I have not lost one son, but two."
Glorfindel fought to a sit, wincing as the move tore at his wounds. "He is not dead yet. Neither is Elladan." Elrond's eyes turned to his, bearing no tears but shimmering with an eerie glow that barely hid how close he was to crying. "We have no proof. Nothing to say that he is not still alive."
Glorfindel pleaded, "You cannot lose hope now."
"The lower route." All elves turned to Alderon. "The scouts have not yet returned, but with that much orc tracks there is a possiblity they have set up a den in the more secluded cliffs. There is still hope."
Elrond drew a shaky breath, the only indication of his warring feelings. He shifted, before remembering Elrohir in his grip. There were too many things hanging in the balance. Could he leave Elrohir? What if he was needed?
"I cannot leave." There was no way he could leave Elrohir in such a weakened state. There was still a chance of repercussions from the poison. There was no telling what reactions the antivenom would start nor the amount of damage already caused, considering his extended time of exposure...
"I will gladly lead the rescue party." Alderon, head bowed, gripped the hilt of his sword. "We'll comb every cave. None will pass unchecked."
Elrond nodded, "Very well."
With a clear goal in mind, it did not take the old healer long to see to the rest of their wounds. Even if Glorfindel insisted that he care for the other's first. Thankfully, Elrond had years of practice working with the stubborn elf. Soon the golden haired elf's protest became null as he hissed underneath the burn of the antivenom seeping into his wound.
Elrond referred from saying anything, knowing that the warrior's pride already stung from the exposure of his weakened state.
Glorfindel, however, could not help but feel relieved. In the distance, he could hear the soft breaths of his friend. Erestor, finally relieved of his responsibility slept deeply in an awkward half-seated position along the wall. Fingers buried in the borrowed cloak, holding its warmth to him. Glorfindel smiled, wincing as another crust was pulled on as a bandage was unwrapped.
"Erestor did this?" Elrond asked, tone somewhat musing as he studied the work on his side.
"Yes." Glorfindel breathed a strained breath as a sharp twinge travelled up his spine at Elrond's prodding. "Not his best work, I know, but it's better than nothing."
"Hm..." Elrond used some of his draught soaked cloths to dab at the angry flesh. "It certainly could be worse. Yet, considering I know this is his first attempt at seuturing a wound I should say I am happily surprised."
Glorfindel paled. "You mean..?"
"Yes," Elrond lay down a thick paste of herbs to stave off infection. "I would say you're Erestor's first ever saved patient. Those small cuts he tended back in the Second Age never really counted as anything serious. Never really needed anything more than a wrapping..."
Scowling, Glorfindel shot his sleeping friend a look that said he would have pay back once he was fit enough to give some. Yet, he could not help but think he was lucky Erestor had an inkling of how to tend his wounds at all. Perhaps all that reading was good for something?
Elrond smiled benevolently at his golden haired friend. The pair of them had been reluctant friends far longer than they had been peaceful ones. But living in close quarters with someone for over an age tended to make people more attached. Privately, Elrond thought that the friendship between the two was good for both parties. Their differences complemented a lot of their personal flaws, something that in Elrond's opinion was good to have since the times they lived in tended to attack at their weaknesses more often than not.
Once finished, Elrond slumped down beside Elrohir. He felt drained, but not too much. Healing took more out of him without Vilya's assistance, but thankfully Elrond was skilled enough to compensate for its absense. He ran fingertips down his son's cheek. Feeling the boy lean into his touch.
I am here, Elrohir.
Elrond tried not to dwell on where his other son was or what he was possibly suffering through at the hands of the enemy. Some part of him wished that the Valar had already claimed him, for then at least Ellladan would be spared the merciless treatment the orcs were so fond of dealing out. He had already seen more than one elf broken by their crude ways, seen fëas shattered and turned impossisbly plagued by the nightmares that followed afterwards.
I have already lost Celebrian. His eyes closed, fencing off the dark reality that seemed more and more set in stone for every second that trickled by. I cannot lose you as well...
Glorfindel stayed silent. Too tired to sleep, yet too ashamed to ask for company. He knew what thoughts must be crossing his lord's mind, for they had ghosted through his frequently enough. In the distance, he could hear the low murmurings of the guards that stood watch at the cave opening. Many had been sent back over the mountain to inform the outpost to send more supplies. There was still no say in how long they would have to stay in this dismal place. But Glorfindel knew that it was not out of laziness that they stayed here, Elrond knew as well as he did the dangers of the mountain.
He clenched his fist by his side, careful to keep it hidden from his lord. He would make them pay for this. Cleanse their orc filth from this mountain until they never dared to set foot here again. If they thought them so naïve that they'd let them roam here freely after this they were foolish indeed. Old emotions, rooted in him that same day when those dark bodies crested the mountain ridge in a city long gone, bubbled to the surface.
Too long have they spread fear over these lands. Too long have they been given freedom to choose their victims by their fancy...
Shaking with ancient rage he barely noticed the flurry of motion at the mouth of the cave. It was not until Elrond stumbled to his feet that he snapped to attention, his head weakly rose to spy down the dim tunnel, falling on a guard rushing their way.
"My Lord," he said as he stopped before Elrond. His eyes large as he without hesitation offered the half-elf a light leather pouch that normally decorated the legs of their falcons. "It is from the party down the lower path."
Elrond's face grew grim yet at the same time hopeful. Trembling hands worked the string to open the thing. Glorfindel nearly forgot to breathe as he watched those silver eyes scan the small note hidden within. The lord really had a poker face at the worst of times, and not knowing what it contained Glorfindel busied himself by picking nervously on the cloak covering him. Distracted, he noted it smelled distinctly of Erestor. But he did have time to dwell on it, for Elrond was already throwing out orders, causing the flock of elves in the vicininty to fall into action.
"My Lord?" He asked, secretly hating how he had to speak with the elf from his prone position. It was all but dignified.
Elrond crouched down beside him, one strong hand grasping his shoulder. "They've found him, Glorfindel. He is in a bad way, but he lives." An enormous weight left him as the words finally registered. His vision blurring slightly as his heart thumped with renewed strength once more. He swallowed.
"He.. He lives?" Glorfindel found his voice braking, and had to take a moment to gather himself. "Elladan, he's alive?"
Elrond only tightened his hold on his shoulder. Eyes warming before he let go, straigtening as much as his towering form allowed in the cramped space. "Yes. But he will need healing. I need to see him."
Glorfindel struggled to raise his stiff body, but was shot down by a look from his lord. His voice left no room for argument. "I have sent them to prepare stretchers. We leave in a moment, there is no time to spare."
Elrond moved on, suddenly restless as he prowled throught the dimly lit space. He kneeled silently beside the sleeping advisor, one hand reaching out to brush messy strands out of that pale face. "Erestor. Wake up."
Grey eyes blinked slowly, before focusing on his nearby face. From the drunken way the sleep kept its hold on him, Elrond could only assume the elf was still exhausted. He did not second guess for a moment his old friend's stubborness. The elf had probably spent little time resting over the last few days. Loyal to a fault as the elf was.
"See to it that you get something warm to drink. There should be a bit of soup left. Then prepare yourself for moving through the snow. We need to meet up with the second group west of here."
Erestor nodded, his hand absently wandering forward to grasp at Elrond's cloak. Orders. He understood orders. They worked even with his mind clouded and gave him a sense of purpose. Something he had missed dearly these last few days. "Yes, my Lord. Please, if you need anything else..."
Elrond grasped that tentative hand, dislodging it from his cloak before setting to carefully rub some warmth into the appendage without adding any pressure. He frowned. Erestor had insisted he was fine yesterday and Elrond had settled for tending his injured ankle. Yet, the raw skin and odd circulation said otherwise. Last night, he would have dained it due to the stressful situation. But now...
Erestor winced, trying not to cry out at the sudden pain in his fingers. Of course Elrond, as obsessively perceptive as the elf was, noticed his slight discomfort. "Does it hurt?"
He watched Erestor lower his gaze, eyes staring at his hands as they worked. Elrond drew forth the other one as well, scanning the skin and honing in on the small clear blisters that dotted the outermost parts of the fingers. His lips thinned.
"Does it hurt, Erestor?"
The advisor nodded, suddenly ashamed that he had forgotten to tell his lord of this particular problem. But the relief of finally being found had somehow made him forget that small detail.
Elrond ran the pads of his fingers down the appandages, feeling the skin. "Can you feel me touching them?" Erestor nodded. "And here?" The advisor frowned.
Elrond sighed, reached into his pack to take out more wads of bandages and a bit of herbs. It did not take long before Erestor's hands were big and clumsy with white fabric wound around them in attempt to protect them from the cold and further damage. But it was when Elrond removed his own gloves that Erestor realized his lord's intent.
"Elrond-"
"No. Take them. I have little use for them at the moment." Elrond helped the large gloves over the bandaged hands, raising a brow at how well they now fit the advisor's normally slender fingers. "Now, get ready. We will depart in half an hour."
True to his words, the troupe of elves along with two stretchers made their way up the snowy bank. It was slow work, and more than a few times Erestor slipped on the sloping surface. The weather had warmed somewhat, the sun that heated the snow made it heavy and slippery. Erestor found himself held up by his elbow more than once during the climb and each time his face would stain red with embarrassment. Glorfindel, at least, suffered his indignation in silence. The elf being pulled on the makeshift sled his stretcher had been transformed into.
Some had stayed behind to prepare the funeral pyre. The amount of dead would have made the trip back precarious and slow, so they had opted to leave guards to regroup with the arriving patrols from the outpost. Hours later, he could still smell the scent of burning flesh. The scent of souls fleeing over the sea, to meet their loved ones. They were all silent, all paying their respects in their own ways, even when they knew that a ceremony would have to be held for them back in the valley as well. For Erestor, the more distance he put between the gorge and himself, the better he felt. It was as if he was physically leaving a nightmare behind, shutting it out of memory and mind.
It was a naïve thought. For Erestor knew that the memories of these events would stick with him for years to come.
When he hours later spotted a similar train of elves climbing up from a valley-like decompression he felt his heart leap up into his throat. They were moving slow, far slower than they were, but the way one was hunch over with a burden on his back made the reason clear.
"Erestor!"
Elrond startled and slipped in the snow when the advisor pushed himself past. His hands quickly gripped for purchase on the sharp slope. That fool! Elrond reclaimed his balance, already sunk down in the snow from his loss of concentration. He nodded towards the guard beside him who without question sped down after the elf.
Erestor huffed as he went, legs burning as he almost rolled down the mountain side, leaving a trail of disturbed snow behind. The wind tried to stop his descent, but he pushed on. His mind set on a single goal.
The elves had their weapons raised once he reached them, but they soon lowered them as they saw the frazzled advisor. Some loosened their ranks as they parted to let him through.
"Elladan!"
The captain sunk to his knees on the snow, wincing as the extra weight of the advisor's arms added to his burden. Erestor reached for the peredhel's face, hands cradling his bruised features.
"Elladan..."
Alderon caught Erestor as his knees gave out beneath him, but the stubborn elf still kept himself glued to the eldest twin. As if afraid he would disappear into thin air at any moment now.
The low moan that met them made both of their heads perk to attention again. "E-Erestor?"
Erestor's eyes widened as they saw silver eyes peek between barely open lids. "Yes, yes. I am here."
A wave of pain flushed through him and Elladan squeezed his eyes shut again. "Elladan... Glorfindel..."
"They're alright, Elladan." Erestor used his legs to help the captain push off the ground again. The move probably agitated some of the peredhel's wounds, for he hissed at the motion. "Keep strong, Elladan. Your father will be here for you soon."
Elladan gave a tired smile. "Ada.."
"Yes," Erestor confirmed, his eyes reflexively searching the incline for Elrond's familiar figure. True enough, he could see Elrond making his way down, though not along the dangerous path he himself had taken. It was only then that Erestor realized how steep the road he had taken was. "It won't be long now. Though, I would prepare myself for a bit of scolding. We sure recieved our fair share already."
Elrond was far more careful in approaching Elladan once he reached them. Erestor, out of habit rather than thought, stepped back leaving good space for the reunion. Respectfully averting his eyes from his lord's tears.
Finally. Erestor thought, feeling himself wind down, some part of him realising that it was over. It was finally over. He turned to watch up the slope and saw light reflect off of golden locks. Glorfindel sat awkwardly in his stretcher, blue eyes peering down at them.
A moment of silent understanding passed between them.
Never again.
Erestor smiled and relished in the sun shining down on him. Warming him slowly as it thawed away the ice cold grip death once had on him. On his friends. His family.
And for the first time in days Erestor felt peace.
He glanced back up towards the looming mountain behind them. Its imposing dark figure as uninviting as ever. The icy peak shining like a fire lit blade in the sun.
Real peace.
-oOo-
The End
-oOo-