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"Stay here," Glorfindel insisted.

"I have to go," Elrond told his friend. "She needs me."

"They need you here also," the Balrog-slayer told him placing a hand on his shoulder. "I am going in your stead, and your sons are going also. Do you not trust us?"

Elrond gave him a tight smile, "Yes, I do. But you know how I feel, I want to be the one out there searching for her."

"I understand," Glorfindel said. "But if we return with her wounded, you need to be here ready to assist her."

Elrond shook his head, "Why do you have to be so sensible? Can you not leave that up to Erestor?"

Glorfindel chuckled, "You will get plenty of that while I am gone."

"Alright then," Elrond said reluctantly. "Safe travels, mellon-nin."

"You stay safe too," Glorfindel said, half teasing. Then he turned to leave, afraid to look back at his friend. He did not like seeing him this way, and if Celebrían was in danger. He gave a quick jerk of his head, to clear his thoughts. Elrond would be destroyed if something happened to her. In fact, they all would.

.-.

"Is that everyone?" Elladan asked, as the group of elven warriors sat on their horses ready to leave.

"Yes," came the reply.

Elladan turned, facing the exit. Elrohir gave him a nod, and they burst out, leading the others, with Glorfindel at their side.

They rode for hard, heading toward the Misty Mountains. They pushed on for hours, until Glorfindel was forced to make them stop. The horse's head dropped, worn down from the hard, long run.

"We have to stop!" Glorfindel exclaimed. "The horses need rest."

"We have to find her!" Elladan shot back.

Glorfindel was taken back. He had noticed on the ride the tension in the air, coming strongest from the twins. He knew they were worried for her. A deep hatred sat in their eyes.

"Elladan," Glorfindel said softly. "We are all worried for her. But we cannot push the horses to hard, they will wear down, and it will take even longer."

"He is right, El," Elrohir said.

"I am sorry," Elladan told the Balrog-slayer. "I have only thought of myself." He turned to the other riders. "We will rest here for the night!"

The warriors called out their thanks, as they dismounted, and started to care for the weary horses.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel, I should not have spoken to you like that."

Glorfindel gave him a tight smile, "Do not worry about it. I understand how you feel." He turned his head away, but not before the twins saw the deep pain in his eyes. Of loss, and sorrow.

"Rest well, mellon-nin," Elrohir whispered to his horse, as he slid off it. "We have a long way to go."

.-.

As soon as they rode over the ridge, they felt it. Something was wrong, out of place. Below, some trees over shadowed a part of the valley. The feeling of death came from it.

Not a word was uttered. Glorfindel held up a hand, and the group came to a stop. He motioned to the twins, then the elven warriors behind him.

The group split up, heading down to the valley from two different directions.

As the twins neared from their side, Elrohir reached behind him, bringing an arrow to the string of his bow. Elladan drew his sword, and glanced around at the others.

One of the warriors nodded to him, "We are ready when you are."

Elladan urged his horse on, into the seemingly forbidding valley. He was not prepared for what greeted them.

"El!" He gasped.

Elrohir tore his gaze from the scene in front of them, "El, why?"

All around them was blood, and death, bodies. Their kin. A gruesome and horrible sight. Forever etched into their memory.

Elladan could not find the words to speak, instead, tears came to his eyes. They were dead, gone to the halls of Mandos. His friends, warriors he had fought beside, trained with. Saved their lives, and they had done to him also. His gaze was brought across the valley, where Glorfindel was coming down from his horse.

He stood there for a moment, his eyes meeting theirs.

He turned his eyes back to his fallen friends, kin. One near him caught his eye.

"Maenir!" He gasped out, rushing forward. He dropped down to his knees next to the dark haired warrior. "Why him? Why?!"

A memory flashed past, Maenir grinning as he fought one of the twins. He was a newly trained warrior, and had wanted to test out his skills. He had always been a cheerful and eager youngling, looking up to the Elladan and Elrohir, and wanting to be like them. He had been so young. Why had agreed to let him go? He thought it would be safe enough, and a new experience for the young warrior.

Why? He should have made him stay.

Glorfindel looked up as he heard someone approach. Elrohir.

"Maenir?"

Glorfindel nodded.

Elrohir walked up to him, and dropped down next to his young friend. He then looked up at Glorfindel, questions filling his eyes.

"I told him he should go," Elrohir said.

"It is not you-" Glorfindel stopped. "Have you found your Nana?"

"No," Elrohir whispered. He reached down, brushing away the dark bloody hair from his friend's face. He then reached down, and grabbed the arrow sticking out from his chest, and yanked it out.

No blood came from the wound, showing that most of it had already been lost.

"He fought on even after being shot," Elrohir said. He stopped his hand from touching the deep wounds from a sword.

"Yes, and slew many," Glorfindel told him, refusing to look at the fallen bodies of the orcs.

"There is nothing we can do," Elrohir said, a hard look setting on his face. "We must look for Nana."

"Yes," Glorfindel agreed.

Elrohir sat there for a little longer, finding it impossible to move. What if her found her? If she was dead? He could not stand another death. He looked up, meeting Elladan's gaze, who was searching among the bodies.

Elladan's head dropped, knowing what had happened.

"My Lord!" A warrior called out, rushing up to the two. Elladan, hearing the cry, came running toward them.

"What is it?" Glorfindel asked, standing to meet him.

"We found tracks!" He informed him, then handed him a white piece of cloth. "That way," he gestured where one the elves was studying the tracks.

"Take the first group and care for the dead, and any wounded you may find," Glorfindel told the warrior. "I will take the others and the twins to follow the trail."

"Yes, my lord," he replied.

Glorfindel motioned for the others to follow him. Without asking, they knew who had been taken by the enemy. Only one had sent out from Imladris wearing that color of clothing.

Celebrían.

Please review! And don't kill me! If you do, I will not be able to post the next chapter! Maenir is just a random elf I put in, to help show the pain they would have felt finding fallen friends and kin.