Hi. Here is another chapter. Hope you like it.

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Thanks again.

Sadie

CHAPTER IV - HARD FEATHER – PART II

If I am guilty, I will pay.

Bob Marley

Three long days had passed until Elladan was out of danger. During that hard time there were no questions about what had happened. Family and friends had stood beside the eldest twin, doing their best to make him feel better, to make him feel safe. It was only after Elrond had reluctantly assured everyone that there was no longer any risk to Elladan, that Elrohir was finally called to a particular talk that he had been both fearing and waiting for.

The twin unwillingly left his room. He had not abandoned Elladan's bedside since his brother was laid there, and now, even leaving his twin to Lady Idhrenniel's care, he felt uneasy about doing it.

His Mother took him to the room where the meeting was to be held. He was surprised to see that not only his father was there, but also his grandfather, Erestor and Glorfindel. He did not look at anyone; he merely stood in silence while Celebrian shut the door. Then the elf lady took her son by the hand and led him to one of the chairs.

Elrohir looked around for a split second, before lowering his eyes as he sat down. He knew where he was: the Meeting Room; a location where his father usually held discussions about subjects that were extremely serious. Elrohir had not been here for a long time, nor been seated in one of these chairs. He cringed inside as he thought about the reason they were all gathered here now.

The twin sighed, remaining silent—he'd not uttered a word since the day he was forced to tell his father the entire story; since he had told him about his transgression; since he had faced Elrond's dazed expression.

Ilúvatar, he would remember that moment forever, that's for sure. He had never seen his father as disappointed as he was that day. Elrond was rendered so speechless that he could only raise his hand briefly, pointing the way out of the room to his son. He didn't even look at him or say anything about what he had just heard. Since then the healer had spent every moment next to Elladan, but hadn't addressed his younger son at all, not even when it was only the two of them in the room.

A few moments later, a period that seemed to last an eternity to Elrohir, one of those present spoke; but, to the young elf's disappointment, it was not the voice he hoped to hear.

"Astalder, do you know why you are here?" asked his grandfather.

The twin couldn't help trembling at the question. Astalder, it was what his grandfather had called him since he was a baby. Astalder: the valiant one. He didn't feel like that. Elrohir just nodded as an answer; his eyes were fixed on his own hands, his fingers strongly interlaced.

"I want to hear your voice, my warrior," the Elf Lord insisted then. However, all his grandfather's tone accomplished was making the twin press his hands a little tighter together on his lap. Celeborn waited for a moment, while the other elves in the room were visibly trying to disguise their worried glances. Only Elrond had not shown any reaction. He was sitting in an armchair near the window; his sad eyes were lost in whatever dark image he saw outside.

"You have to answer your Daerada, ion-nín," Celebrian warned in her motherly manner, concerned with the child's refusal to speak. Both Elladan and Elrohir were keeping an almost absolute silence since Elladan's wound was discovered, and neither of the boys seemed willing to break their cold and distressing reserve.

Celeborn sighed deeply, his serene gaze still on his grandson's figure.

"During this meeting we have to discuss your infractions and punishments, if they will be necessary, my warrior," he said then. "It is your right to not defend yourself if that is what you wish to, but I want you to be brave enough to look at us as we follow the protocol. Do you understand me?"

Elrohir did not answer, but obeyed his grandfather, raising his eyes, which were bright with tears, but dark with remorse.

"Very well, so…" Celeborn said. "Astalder, we are all here to analyze how much of what happened is the result of your lack of knowledge about important issues, and how much is, in fact, the fruit of your own irresponsibility and your inability to understand the consequences of your actions." He waited a few moments to see his grandson's reaction.

Elrohir continued looking at Celeborn with admirable courage, seeming willing to listen to whatever warnings or reprimands any of them might want to express.

Celeborn slowly exhaled, and then he moved his eyes toward Glorfindel, nodding slightly, which indicated to him it was his time to speak.

The ancient warrior, however, seemed uneasy. He tightened his jaw, looking as if he might explode, but since everyone's attention was focused on him, he thought better of it. He then looked at the young child he'd known since he took his first steps, and his anger eased the smallest of measures.

"We are in a very serious situation, Elrohir..." he began, speaking in a low tone. "Do you have any idea of what you did, elfling? Do you?" He paused momentarily, not really waiting for Elrohir's answer; it was more as if he was trying to control his own emotions. "You misappropriated another soldier's weapon, altered it from its original form, and used it without being granted permission to do so."

Elrohir returned his master's gaze, nodding his head as he had done previously. But his heart ached to see the reaction in his mentor's eyes. There was disappointment in Glorfindel's face that seemed even worse than what he had seen in his father's. Somehow, his blond mentor seemed to feel guilty, and Elrohir, in his childish innocence, couldn't understand why.

"Are you indeed aware of it, boy?" the Elf Lord managed to ask. "Are you sure, child? Didn't you have any doubt? Didn't you feel any hesitation when you decided to do what you did?"

Elrohir frowned at the emphatic sound of the mentor's questions.

"Tell me, elfling… Did you, at any time, remember anything I told you about weapons and their owners?"

The younger twin had another moment of hesitation. But he felt his jaw fall open slowly, comprehending at last, the blond elf's emotion. He parted his lips in surprise. Could Glorfindel, as his mentor, feel as if he hadn't done his role properly? As if he hadn't taught him well? Could he feel… guilty about what had happened?

Elrohir stopped breathing, then felt his chin tremble as he bit the corner of his mouth to contain it. He had to do something; he had to say something, but what? What would he say? He opened his mouth, feeling the urge to at least tell his master that the fault was only his and nobody else's, and that he was a stupid pupil with whom no one should have ever wasted his time. Elrohir had known what he was doing when he did it, he just hadn't cared. And because of that, now he could not bring himself to speak. He wouldn't be able to stand to hear his own voice.

Ilúvatar, he didn't want to hear his voice anymore! He just shook his head again and a tear escaped one of his eyes before he lowered his gaze one more time.

Glorfindel also lowered his own, without anything else to say, and another long hard period of silence followed, until Celeborn spoke again.

"We have to hear from another mentor of yours, Elrohir," he said, breaking the quiet that had enveloped them all. He then looked at Erestor without waiting for any answer from his grandson.

This time Elrohir couldn't find his courage as easily as he has done before. He wiped his tears away before doing what he knew was expected of him, slowly raising his gaze to that of Erestor's. However, enduring the stare of Imladris' book master, and his father's counselor, was not any easier to bear than Glorfindel's disappointment had been.

Erestor didn't seem any happier than Glorfindel was. The dark haired lord took a deep breath, but his eyes wandered through all the stacks of books of various colors and subjects, knowing that there was nothing written there which could help him with this very difficult issue.

"Elrohir..." he said, and the young elf's eyes turned toward Erestor. Elrohir was trying to do what his grandfather had told him to do, but it was very difficult to face them all. "Do you remember what I told you about the fate of a sword after its owner's disappearance?" he directly questioned, with worried eyes. "Do you remember that a sword has a sacred role for many people, and that it should be left at rest, if not claimed by its owner or an heir?"

Elrohir nodded, moving his eyes to stare at his hands again.

Unfortunately that was not the only question Erestor would be obligated to ask that night, so the counselor cleared his throat so his pupil's attention was on him again.

"Elrohir..." the mentor said once more, and the young elf wished he had any other name than that. "Do you remember what the scriptures say about attempting on the life of someone of the same blood?" he cautiously asked, and the young elf's eyebrows curved downward again, before his face turned whiter shades of pale. He felt as if he had been punched.

"We know you did not intend to do it." Erestor raised his right hand in a gesture of peace. "But your silence after the accident, even though you searched for help later, aggravated your fault very much, boy."

The twin felt his body freeze, suddenly plagued by the sense of danger that had been haunting him, and it was amplified this time. He looked at his mother then, and was shocked to see tears falling slowly down her very pale face. She tore her gaze away from him, and then Elrohir noticed that none of the others were looking at him either, except his grandfather, whose grim expression had worsened tremendously.

"The punishment for any elf for offenses such as these is to be exiled, young one," Celeborn said, very seriously. "This is an irrevocable law."

It took Elrohir a few seconds to understand the meaning of those words, but then he paled even more. His darkened eyes searched, unseeing, as he envisioned the future being described to him.

What was his grandfather saying? Would he be exiled? Exiled? Couldn't he live in any elven kingdom? Is this what he was saying? Would he be…alone? Would he lose his family? Could it be possible?

No… It wouldn't happen… He was just a child… wasn't he?

Celeborn felt heartsick, reading those feelings of despair that slowly invaded his grandson's face. Elbereth, he knew he was doing the right thing. Elrohir was a child without any limits, and a child who had gone too far for his own good. But he was also very young to be expected to fully understand important things; too young to know that, for love, sometimes, people have to do things they don't want to; for love, people have to be cold, people have to punish their own children.

Elrohir suddenly realized that he was no longer looking at his grandfather's face. He detested the fact that his Daerada would easily read the despair that he couldn't hide anymore. He had no choice but to obey, so his eyes slowly rose to meet those of his grandfather again.

Celeborn sighed heavily, taking another deep breath before continuing.

"Unfortunately, all that has been said and seen today certifies your guilt, Astalder," he said. "Do you understand that?" Celeborn received a hesitant nod of confirmation as answer. "Your case is beyond us. Your case should be judged by the local Council."

This time Elrohir continued looking at his grandfather, as if he hadn't comprehended the meaning of what he was saying. Judged? Judged by the Council? He looked at the other members of the meeting then, but nobody seemed willing to return his gaze. Elrond was still looking through that same dark window; Erestor had his eyes focused nowhere; Glorfindel had his covered by one of his hands. He had his mother's attention now, but her eyes were so sad that he wished she were not looking at him at all.

There was no doubt anymore for the young Elrohir. He was in trouble and not in a simple way. The enormity of his transgression threatened to overwhelm him. He should have paid attention to his brother's advice. He should have listened to Elladan. Elladan was always the wiser one. He seemed to feel the danger; he seemed to know everything.

That's why Elrohir couldn't help wincing when his grandfather's gaze quickly scanned the other occupants of the room before returning to bore into him. He was filled with a terrifying sensation he couldn't describe, and that sensation was only aggravated more by Celeborn's stare.

Ilúvatar, was he really going to be judged by the Council? Was he really to be exiled? This could not be happening… It was not possible…

"However, there is an important detail," Celeborn finally added, and Elrohir's eyebrows rose slightly with his grandfather's unexpected statement, and a small bright ray of hope shone in Elrohir's eyes. "Because you're a few years from full majority yet, the local Council accepted that the responsibility be transferred to someone else."

At first the younger twin didn't understand what those words meant, and his face was a perfect picture of that doubt. Then, that uncomfortable sensation of danger returned again, waking a clear feeling inside him, a feeling that made his heart freeze; something was telling him that, although he could not fully understand his grandfather's words, they were not as positive as he'd first thought. When Celeborn turned to look at the person in the room who would speak next, Elrohir felt a chill run down his spine…

Elrond raised his eyes at last, looking at his son with his always patient stare, although, there was some sadness there the twin could not name. When the healer rose, releasing a sigh of weariness, an even more painful silence filled the air around them.

Elrond stepped closer to the window he had been staring through since the beginning of the meeting. Elrohir followed his father with his eyes, desperately trying to understand what was happening. All he could see was the image of Elrond's face, reflected now in the glass in front of the Elf Lord. His father seemed lost in his thoughts; thoughts which were an overwhelming and painful mystery to Elrohir.

It took a few moments until Elrond turned again and looked at his son. Only then the Lord of Imladris' voice finally was heard.

"Elrohir is my son," he said. His breathing quickened, but keeping a serene face, his eyes never left those of the young elf. "He was born and raised on my guard and for him my heart feels extreme affection… I'm sure that this serious act he's committed is only the result of his own immaturity, and not of any dark shadow that could be in his heart."

He paused, and his eyes abandoned his son's for a moment, looking for someone else in the room. Elrohir followed them and found his mother's image. The Lady Elf's eyes were still so sad that he almost couldn't look at them. Celebrian wasn't looking at her son now; she was returning her husband's attention; her lips were tight and her face very pale.

"Therefore…" Elrond continued then, looking fearlessly at all the members of the meeting before focusing his eyes on his son again, "by knowing that I should have foreseen the outcome of his immaturity, which might have caused such lapses in his judgment, I assume responsibility, in front of my family and friends, and admit that I have failed." He then diverted his eyes from his son's gaze, but not before he saw the shock his statement had revealed on Elrohir's face. He took a deep breath and completed what he had to say in a strong and decisive tone, which made the boy shudder: "I have failed, and for having full consciousness of that, I take the blame of my son's act as mine."

Elrohir's eyes widened, astonished, and he stood up immediately. But all Elrond did was lift a palm in a gesture that the twin was unable to ignore. A multitude of desires and impulses longed to move his body, to compel him to do something, even with that palm still up.

But he had already been stubborn enough; he had already disobeyed enough, he had already been too immature…

So he sat down again, slowly and painfully. He was panting now; his heart was beating so fast that his chest ached. He looked at his grandfather then, with the eyes of a person who desperately needs assistance. In his heart the young child still fed the vain hope of awakening from a terrible nightmare.

Celeborn stared at him compassionately, feeling the pain and conflict in his grandson's chest.

"Daerada..." the twin's voice was heard for the first time, awakened by the dire circumstances, breaking the silence that insisted on freezing the place like a sad picture. That sound, however, moved his grandfather, who inhaled deeply, as if seeking to create a little more room inside himself for all that had now accumulated there. The tears flowed from Elrohir's eyes, leaving his words with an overwhelming taste of salt. "Daerada... He cannot take my fault..."

"He is your father, pen-neth."

"But ..." Elrohir looked back to Elrond, whose gaze was now lost again in the dark landscape of the window. It was evident that his father was avoiding looking at him now. "What is going to happen?"

Celeborn pressed his lips together. He'd known this was going to be hard to do, but he had not realized how hard it would be until this very moment. He wouldn't help his grandson if he gave in now, but he would never get used to the pain of someone so young.

"Attesting the fault he has committed, Astalder," he tried to explain, "he releases you from any guilt."

The twin shook his head, still looking at his father. The healer's hands were tightly clasped behind his back, his stance still proud, his very pale face even now turned away from Elrohir. The young elf felt his body tremble, and the voice inside his head had never screamed so loudly.

Oh, my… This cannot be… What is going to happen to his father now? What is going to happen to him? What horrible discovery is still waiting to fall upon him in the next seconds? Could it be this bad? Could it be even worse?

It could, he knew. There was still something more… He could feel it… That damned sensation wasn't gone yet...

He looked at his grandfather again, trying to find what seemed to be missing in this painful situation. In his Daerada's face there was still something left unsaid, something ominous he had not yet revealed.

Elrohir found himself both longing for and fearing that final information, desperately trying to imagine something that could get him out of this horrible situation.

"What ... What is going to happen now, Daerada?" he dared to ask anyway, realizing there was no escaping from this pain. He felt he had to face it before he went mad from conjecturing about it. Only then a horrible idea stole his breath and caused icy fingers to chill his skin. "They won't exile him, will they?"

Celeborn sighed deeply and slowly, and his eyes journeyed again through the members of the meeting, before landing patiently on his son-in-law.

"No, Astalder," he replied, but his tone was not enough to convince his grandson that this was good news, so Elrohir remained rigid, waiting for what he knew would be added to that answer. "However, taking the blame for this misfortune, his name has been stained in the history books. He is qualified as an untrustworthy person."

"He's disgraced ... because of me..." concluded the young elf, fading further. And the traces of his face changed completely; it was as if the light had been stolen from him. He looked once again to his father, and then realized why Elrond did not look at him.

Ilúvatar, he didn't even want to look at himself anymore...

"It is a fact," Celeborn agreed and paused, making Elrohir seek the older elf's eyes again. The boy knew that there was still something to be said, and it would not be any better than anything he had already heard.

Elrohir stood up slowly, his eyes yet fixed on his grandfather's.

"Please, Daerada…" he pleaded in a trembling voice. "Tell me what I can do to remedy everything I have done. I will do whatever you tell me to."

Celeborn shook his head and sighed.

"You are a child, Astalder… There is nothing you can do. This is an adult issue."

"I am not a child, Daerada. There must be something…"

"You are a child, Astalder." Celeborn's voice rose a bit. "You didn't want to believe that, but you are still a child; a child who made a serious mistake. And your father has admitted failing instructing you satisfactorily. As your grandfather, it's my duty to claim your tutelage."

This time the young elf's chin dropped, and Elrohir felt that he would fall if he did not seek some kind of support.

"What... What do you… What do you mean, Daerada?" he stammered, holding himself upright with a trembling hand on the chair he'd risen from.

Celeborn saw his discomfort, so he stood up, stepping closer and putting a hand on one of the child's shoulders.

"Tomorrow my group is going to go back to our small shelter on the shores of Belfalas Bay, where your grandmother is waiting for us near the elvish haven of Edhellond. You are coming with us as my pupil, Astalder."

"How... How long?"

Celeborn did not answer; he just pressed his lips together and let out a weary sigh. Whatever the answer was, nobody seemed to have strength enough to give it.

"Why cannot I go as well, Daerada?" Elladan asked again, standing near his grandfather's horse. His father's hand was planted heavily on his shoulder.

Celeborn approached once more, lifting his grandson's chin so he could see the child's sad face. He looked at the boy with affection, and then carefully observed the bandages that still covered the eldest twin's wound.

"On another trip, all right, Elladan?"

The young elf sealed his lips, turning his bright eyes to his twin, who already was on one of the horses of his grandfather's group. Elrohir did not look at anyone, but his hands, grasped tightly in the mane of the animal, attested his state of mind.

"We will never do it again, Daerada," Elladan insisted in an anguished tone. "We should not have done what we did with the sword."

"Only your brother touched the weapon, tithen-pen. And he handled it without care, so you were injured."

"It was an accident, Daerada. He has apologized. He is sorry..."

"In this case your brother's apology is not enough, Elladan. Your father has already explained that to you... "

"So let me go, too. I want to go with Elrohir. I also did what I should not. I also deserve punishment."

Celeborn gave a small smile, stroking his grandson's dark hair.

"We are not punishing either of you, Elladan," he said in a loving tone, then he put his palm on the boy's hurt chest. "Although you have made a big mistake hiding from your father that you were wounded. You should think on that while you recover."

Elladan pressed his lips together and from his eyes tears started to fall. He did not want to cry in front of his grandfather, but he couldn't control himself anymore.

"You will not bring him back, will you, Daerada? Just because he has hurt me accidently ... Please, do not take him… He will not do it again... Please, Daerada… He will not... It was an accident... He had not intended…"

Elrohir looked down and shut his eyes hearing the pleading tone of his twin. His fingers entwined even stronger in the white mane of his horse, while a few tears also streamed down his face, unable as he was to contain them.

Celeborn sighed and flicked his gaze to the couple who was behind the elder twin. Elrond looked down, merely squeezing his child's shoulder, but Celebrian returned the look with a quite different one. It was evident that the blond lady did not support her father's attitude.