Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters and sceneries belongs to JRR Tolkien.
CHAPTER III – THE OUTCOME
Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid, one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.
Douglas MacArthur
Elrohir's eyes followed his father's decided steps, as he crossed the field in his direction. When he knelt before him, the twin paled and his whole body seemed to grow cold.
"Please, adar-nîn," he said, watching Elrond place his hands over the wound on his leg in absolute silence. Crouching beside him, Elladan attended his father's examination.
"I applied a little bit of sagdatloira and tied the bandage over it; it may contain the bleeding for a while longer. I do not know for how long," he said, and Elrohir realized the seriousness of the wavering tone in his brother's voice, even with the loving look that Elladan received from Elrond as a response. He lamented putting his twin in this situation before their father, who Elladan respected tremendously.
After briefly checking the bandaged wound, the elf lord looked up to observe the swelling on his son's face. Elrohir took a deep breath under his father's scrutiny and hid all his pain in a perfect mask.
"I can continue, adar," he hastened to say, trying to disguise any trace of pain in his voice.
Elrond analyzed his son's face a while longer, then put his hand fondly on Elrohir's chest, which was covered by the red and silver armor, the color of the banner that Glorfindel had chosen to represent himself. Red was one of the hues that reminded him of Rivendell.
"You know how much I love you, don't you, my Captain?" His father's question almost led the younger twin to despair; he knew what was coming when the healer used that tone and when he called him that name. Elrohir swallowed his desire to beg his father to not do what he thought he was about to do, but finally ended up looking down at his tightly clasped hands.
"I know, sir," he replied. "For your love I'll be always grateful, my lord father," he completed, playing his role of a good son. He did not want to embarrass the Elf-lord before the healer of the Haven, who was watching the scene carefully.
Elrond smiled, then pulled his son's chin up to look at him and leaned his hand on his injured leg. At that moment, Elrohir realized that the formal speech of his father, that calculated attitude, actually was not as ceremonial as he had imagined. The certainty only came when he felt the pain in his leg considerably decrease, and he felt an important energy flowing between them.
This time Elrohir really had to look for one of his best masks so that his surprise at his father's attitude wasn't too visible. Elrond was the official healer. He was not called to attend his warrior son, but to judge his healer son. What he had done was not exactly what the rules directed. But Elrond didn't really seem too worried about it. He just kissed his son's face then and stood up.
Elladan followed him with his eyes, but did not dare to rise. He also spent all his concentration disguising his shock, which threatened to transform his facial features.
"Then, Lord Elrond?" inquired the judge of the bout.
"I see no impediment of extreme gravity," Elrond replied formally, and Mithrion's eyebrows rose in absolute indignation.
"What, by Mandos, do you have in mind?" he asked, already passing the healer of the city and going to check the wound of his son-in-law's opponent for himself. When Mithrion, without any request for permission, placed his hand over Elrohir's bandages, the younger elf had to breathe in slowly to try to keep himself from shoving him away.
However, when Mithrion realized that both the visible fatigue and the uncontrollable bleeding of the young elf seemed to have decreased more than expected, the elf of Lindon did not seem so inclined to disguise his surprise as the twins had. "What did you do to him, Elrond?" He straightened up, and, resembling a typhoon, he approached the host with a menacing scowl.
Elrohir paled when he saw his father stare at the elf with his face as calm as ever, and he wondered if he would witness him lying for the first time in his life.
"I played my role as a healer. For that I was called, Lord Mithrion."
"You made the boy better."
Elrond did not answer, but the next comment came from Balanidhren.
"By Elbereth, Mithrion. Elrond was with his son for a minimum time."
"But the boy is noticeably better." The healer pointed brazenly now to Elrohir. Balanidhren followed the direction indicated, but did not see in the picture of the young elf the same information.
"What I see is a warrior who is still quite wan. If the presence of his father has comforted him for a moment, I am pleased to know it, considering that this conflict that we have been watching seems too unequal to me."
"He was favored," protested the healer, not giving up.
"Very Well. Then place your hands over your warrior and do the same, or ask Elrond to treat him equally if you are feeling unable to offer your son-in-law the same positive energy that our host offered his son." The Green Forest counselor had finally gotten angry. He was chosen among the others just for being one of the most thoughtful and patient of the group. His exasperation only made it quite clear how this bout was surpassing acceptable limits.
After that comment there was only silence; a silence that Glorfindel took to crouch near his pupil and re-check his armor, while Elladan gave one last look at the injury on his brother's face.
"My father broke the rules," Elrohir whispered to his master. He was so surprised that the sound of the words coming out of his mouth made him seem, in the eyes of the blond warrior, as an elfling who had just seen a too convincing dragon illustration. Glorfindel let out a laugh.
"Yes, he did."
"He should not have..."
"Of course he should have," Elladan said in defense of his father.
"He should not have done this, Dan... He favored me," Elrohir repeated in a worried tone.
"Your brother is right, elfling," Glorfindel added, replacing the helmet on his pupil's head. "Your father just tried to rebalance the game. You should not be in this fight. And Enel, who, to me, is the truly favored one in this whole story, has not learned to value his luck and has only acted in a reprehensible way until now. The Council sees it. Being called as a healer in this matter was not your father's decision. Believe me."
"Even still, ada could not do much for you, Ro," Elladan said, concerned. "Once the fight begins again, your leg will return to bothering you, and the bleeding might be intensified too, if he hits you. You need to take extra care."
"That's true, Elrohir." Glorfindel's tone had regained all its seriousness. "What your father did for you was just give you more of a chance to defend yourself. You were a very easy target, downed the way you were. Do not believe for a minute that he did as he did hoping to help you win. He just wants to avoid you getting hurt more severely. Now listen to me. Let the fight flow and only protect yourself. We just want it to be won by a stroke of luck, or excessive accumulation of points, but not anything worse."
Elrohir looked down, straightening his helmet now.
"Points are not lacking for him," he said in disgust.
"Even Celboril could win if he were fighting a wan warrior and using dirty tricks."
The image of Imladris' chef, whose only weapons were sharp kitchen knives, stole a small smile from the youngest twin, a smile that satisfied his blond master. Glorfindel could not wait to finish this nightmare.
"Come on, elfling. Observe the rules and continue behaving like you promised me."
However, when Elrohir exchanged the formal greeting with Enel, and their swords once again played their own song of battle, the twin began to realize how difficult it would be to fulfill the promise he had made to his master. The captain of Lindon returned to the fight with a spirit fueled by indignation and the desire to win the confrontation as quickly as possible.
Elrohir was simply trying to defend himself as his master had asked him to do. Yet at a certain time, Enel, dissatisfied with the young elf's change in tactics, since he was hardly giving way to his usual aggression, began to alter his attack maneuvers. He lifted his chin defiantly and started directing hostile glances of the worst kind toward his opponent
It was not characteristic of the younger twin to feel intimidated or yield to provocations, but he understood his rival's insinuations better than he wanted to. And he could read in Enel's facial expression the sentences that the warrior kept to himself, but which seemed to shoot from his eyes. How was that possible?
"Come on, little boy. How long will you avoid me?"
And Enel's sword passed inches from the twin's face.
Elrohir shook his head briefly and took a deep breath at the first opportunity he had to move away from the conflict a bit. But Enel's eyes still spoke plainly, and his phrases continued to echo in the young elf's mind, while a slight smile, loaded with sarcasm, was etched on the lips of the captain of the Haven.
"They were complaining about my evasive maneuvers. But that's something this novice cannot even do," said the tormentor's voice inside Elrohir's mind; Enel's voice…
The twin was thinking that this was not possible, that maybe the pain or perhaps a fever was making him hear these words. But Enel's intense expression did not make it look as if this tactic was taking a single minute of his attention, and Elrohir started to fear that Enel hid a power of war that until now he had not used against any opponent in this tournament.
Could such a maneuver work against him, who, according to his father, had one of the best locked minds he'd ever encountered?
Elrohir tried to ignore that fear and use the energy he had for reacting to Enel's continuous onslaught, sometimes mounting a counterattack, forcing a change of direction in the fight. But Elladan had been right; what his father had done for him was too little to turn him into the warrior he had been before he'd taken this latest injury. So every time he tried a more decisive attack, he ended up being hit or nearly so. He was powerless. Sometimes Enel's sword echoed on his armor, sometimes it stole strands of his hair, sometimes Elrohir tasted the heavier impact of its blade on his shoulder or back as he dodged to escape from a serious blow.
"Come on, little boy, at least pretend to be a true warrior and learn to defend yourself."
That damn voice came back to disturb Elrohir ... to haunt him.
And that sword hit his armor once more.
"You will find your defeat here in front of your family, little boy. I pity you. So many important and noble elves in your ancestors' tree, and some of them are here as witnesses to the last of their line fleeing, fighting like a scared puppy. Not having your family as part of the Council has been a great help for you."
Elrohir winced for the first time, and it was a mixture of anguish and anger that caused such a reaction, which he was trying to hide the best that he could. But harder than hearing those half-truths was ignoring what his pride was also screaming at him; words that were far worse than the ones his opponent's voice insinuated into his mind. He tried to pretend not to understand the subtext, sought not to comprehend the stares, did not believe what was happening. His weariness was bringing him down, the bandage on his leg dampened with blood again, the pain began to make more sense than fighting; the provocations had bitter tastes. The time now went on oddly, as in a quite bad dream from which he wanted to awaken.
When Enel jumped at an unexpected moment, only to land behind the twin and hit him with the handle of his sword in the middle of the back, Elrohir was not quick enough to turn around in time to prevent himself from being hit. And the assault took him to the ground so quickly, he barely had time to lift his right hand to break his fall. Enel moved his sword then, taking the opportunity to bring it closer to the young elf's neck and gain his ultimate point.
But Elrohir turned toward the ground, unable to surrender as ever, but his sword was still up, and it collided with Enel's. The older elf, seeing one more lost opportunity, simply could not accept that the attack had not been successful and took two steps away so that his opponent could stand up as the rules directed. But he was insistent in the resulting duel of weapons, forcing his sword against the twin's, who now used both hands in his bid to protect himself.
"Do you really think you can defeat me, little sword thief?" Enel's voice seemed to escape from his fiery glare, which he directed at his fallen adversary. "Do you think I cannot beat you? Do you want me to tell you how many enemies I tortured this way, before I saw their blood staining my sword?"
Elrohir opened rounded eyes to the threat that only he could hear, but his hands were still holding the sword as hard as they could, not giving an inch to the pressure.
"Fault! Serious fault, Lord Enel Baradobel!" Balanidhren, the judge of this last contest, finally said, realizing that the warrior did not intend to withdraw the prohibited assault.
Yet the captain of Círdan's city, stuck in his anger, did not answer, continuing to try to show the miserable elf that his strength was superior. He was so far away from sane reason, he could not see that, if Elrohir indeed gave up, he would be struck by the deadly weapon of his opponent.
"Fault, Captain!" Balanidhren repeated in a grave voice. "Move away!"
"Enel!" The voice of Mithrion was necessary for the first time. He also seemed quite worried. "Enel! Enel stop! If the boy gives way you will kill him!"
And it was that final warning from his father-in-law that seemed to bring some sense back to the distressed captain's heart. Enel held his breath, as if visualizing the risks and losses of doing as Mithrion directed, and his eyes bored into Elrohir's again before he moved away in an impulse of pure anger. Before doing so, however, the captain elf kicked his opponent while he was still on the ground.
"I will meet you in a real war, disgraceful little boy. There you will not have as many adults to defend you." He had not meant to verbalize, finally, what was in his heart and what seemed to consume his remaining dignity. Elbereth, this boy could set him off worse than any enemy had ever succeeded doing in his past. That needed to have an end. That needed to be finished.
"To me; that's enough!" Balanidhren exploded with indignation. When he examined his extensive experience and shrewdness, he acknowledged that some extreme negative energy had already painted traces of blackness in this bout for far too long. He did not know what it was, but he would put any price on his instincts, even if he lost the respect and regard of his colleagues. "I want to convene the Council and put an end to this bout now, or I will do it without their consent regardless."
"Of course! Protect this miserable one," Enel said, indignantly dropping his arms to his sides, as he realized that the last chance for victory had escaped him. "If you get the chance, why do you not try and enlist his mother to fight against him tomorrow?"
That was the last straw for Elrohir. He stood up then, ignoring aches and rules, doubts and fears, and threw himself onto Enel as if he were an uncontrolled beast. If it was a fight in the darkness that the captain wanted, he would show him what he was capable of. He'd known emptiness and darkness when he was still a boy; he'd crossed them aimlessly in a stormy sea and had not been rescued from drowning, only to now cast his head down and accept defeat without a fight, without giving it his all, without showing himself worthy of the help he had received in the past.
Enel's eyes widened in surprise, and even the council members left their seats afraid of having to stop something that seemed to be going from bad to worse.
The swords crossed, turned, clashed many times. Enel was also out of control, so out of control that he gave up his mental and verbal taunts, which were not unusual tactics for swordsmen in war. Actually the field had never been shrouded in such a silence during a bout, and never had the collision of two weapons become a more frightening sound.
Glorfindel's hand had held strongly onto Elladan's right arm, yet the blond warrior had his other hand gripping the handle of his sword. He had seen many conflicts in his life, but had never witnessed a fight like this, which had aroused such feelings of antagonism and confusion between the combatants.
"He's bleeding badly, Glorfindel. I have to stop the fight." Elladan tried to free himself. His elder brother's heart was too preoccupied to realize the real reason that the heat was stolen from his skin. "Let's allow Enel the win; I do not care about that anymore."
"The fight is about to end now, Elladan. It would be better for us all if we do not interfere." The blond warrior's angst interpreted this part of battle he knew so well. In his master's heart he just hoped Enel won the bout honestly, stealing Elrohir's sword as he almost succeeded in doing twice, or maybe knocking him down and immobilizing him with the weapon aimed to one mortal point, like most conflicts were finalized.
Elbereth he just wanted this nightmare to end.
That was what everyone expected now, some even longed for it, even those among the perplexed audience. All believed now that Enel would win this conflict; however, it would be Elrohir's perseverance those elves would certainly never forget.
That was certain, and the captain's victory was expected now, the victory of Lord Enel Baradobel, a famous and fearless Teleri elf, who had been in and fought in the toughest battles; who for the first time had participated in an Official Tournament; who for the first time had traveled from his lands; who for the first time had faced an opponent as full of surprises as Elrohir of Imladris.
When in the heat of battle, Enel's cunning finally managed to make Elrohir's sword escape from his hands, the captain almost did not believe it, so he kept watching the weapon on its route to the ground and had little time to realize and believe that this had finally happened, before Elrohir threw his body forward, rolling on the ground and swiping his sword from the air before it touched the soil of his homeland.
Not believing he had missed this last opportunity, the captain again advanced on the fallen elf, repeating the risky maneuver for which he had been previously warned and punished, but obviously not caring that he was about to repeat it. He was in this for all or nothing, and he wanted no other reward than beating this boy that had stolen his pride. He would face the punishment later; he would face the people who would avoid him then; he could return dishonored to his land, but he would not accept defeat, he would not give up at any price.
When his sword met that of his opponent, who was still stretched on the ground, Elrohir unexpectedly turned his weapon, and then it was the captain's bright blade that escaped from its owner's hand and went skyward. The elf lord tried to move and catch it, as Elrohir had done before, but then he realized there was an impediment to that: Elrohir held his sword over his opponent's shoulder, inches from his throat.
It was something that in this tournament was titled Unquestionable Coup.
It was something that in this tournament was titled Victory.
When Balanidhren exclaimed, "Finished! Victory to Lord Elrohir of Imladris," as more of an outburst of someone who is relived than in the tone of one making a final decree, no one could tell if the powerful and respected Enel Baradobel could accept his defeat or not; especially when the field was overrun with elves that, along with the warriors in the bout tonight, seemed a bit tired of so many rules.
The judge of the dispute tried to protest the crowd's breach of tournament etiquette, but finally a relieved smile lifted his lips. As an inhabitant of The Green Forest, the elf had his Sinda heart accustomed to big celebrations, a custom he learned with the emotional Silvan Elves, whose hearts yearned to give thanks for everything. Celebrations gave him pleasure. So he allowed Elrohir to be warmly greeted by friends and embraced by his master, his father, his brother and his grandfather, as well as be kissed and cuddled by his mother and grandmother. He was the hero of this tournament, the young elf who had come to conquer. He was the picture of unbelievable strength.
Elrohir was the symbol of the land he defended and represented; he was the symbol of Imladris, of his homeland...
When Glorfindel entered the twins' bedroom, after the crowd had dispersed and the Council was able to return to their meeting room, he was surprised to see the place empty. It had taken him some time to convince the elves who had been in the audience that the celebrations should take place only after the official end of the Tournament. It seemed as if people were so satisfied with what they had seen during this last bout that they had no need for an additional opportunity to enjoy another battle, especially if it would mean that they could celebrate right this moment. It had been necessary to remind them who would be in the next fight to bring them back on track. Some elves even took pity on Elrohir, asking the leader of the Council if the battle would really be within the next day, as the rules dictated.
Glorfindel hadn't exactly seen the moment when Elladan and Elrohir had walked back to the house as the rules said they should. The brothers knew that for them the tournament was not over yet, and that hurt Glorfindel's heart, who knew that they would be deprived of all the excitement that would surely inspire songs and conversations during the hours they would have to be in seclusion.
He then observed the room; the twin's armor was on the floor, as were his stained clothes. The bandage flooded with blood was in a bin. Glorfindel raised his eyes to the brothers' bathing room then, thinking that surely they would be in there.
"Elladan?" he called to make sure.
"Glorfindel! Can you help me?" Elladan called, in a response so low and worried that it spurred his master to go forward quickly. Inside he found Elladan kneeling beside the tub, with Elrohir in the water, but his head resting on his brother's chest.
"What happened?"
"He is all but lifeless," Elladan explained, and then Glorfindel understood, realizing that Elrohir's eyes were still open, but he seemed completely depleted in his brother's arms. "I had already redone the suture, but I needed to bathe him," Elladan explained, worried, craning his neck a bit to try to see his brother. "He stopped answering me. Is he asleep?"
"No." Glorfindel smiled complacently, recognizing his pupil's lost look. Elrohir seemed to be wandering through images of everything that happened, since he was incapable of any more effective reaction. "Has he said anything about the bout?"
Elladan took a deep breath, and then moved his eyes to his mentor and Glorfindel understood the nonverbal request. He just nodded in silence, thinking that the caution with which the older twin wanted to deal with what happened was welcome and wise for the moment. The master then took off his robe and shirt and began to help Elladan to finish his task.
They exchanged places carefully and Glorfindel was holding Elrohir while Elladan finished his work. It was only when Glorfindel lowered his pupil's head slightly so that his brother could wash his hair, that the eyes of the youngest twin met his mentor's. The blonde elf smiled.
"Soon you'll be in your bed, enjoying the sleep of the honest ones," he said in a jesting tone. "Today I think you will not refuse to lay your hard head on the pillow, will you?"
Elrohir blinked a few times, while his mentor protected his eyes as his brother lathered his hair.
"When will I fight again?" Elrohir asked then, and for once he did not seem anxious for the true response. "In the morning?"
"Do you think you'll be standing in the morning?" Glorfindel tried to continue using the informal and playful tone he had been using, even realizing that an unexpected and intriguing sadness had taken the young champion, a sadness he had never seen the twin show until that day. Elrohir just closed his eyes and his lips trembled as if he were in total mourning, but soon he pressed them tightly together, closing his eyes.
Glorfindel sighed and even exchanged a worried look with the older twin before replying:
"No," he said in a low tone, while helping Elladan, who slowly poured some water over the twin's dark hair to remove the foam from it. Glorfindel wanted to ensure that Elrohir understood that this casual act was a guarantee of affection, because he knew it was something that his disciple deserved, after all the proof of bravery and dedication he had shown that day and the days which had come before. Elladan also used caution in what he did, trying to give his brother a sense of security now that the fighting was over and he was visibly frail.
"When?" Elrohir asked then, his eyes locked on the ceiling above and his breathing a bit faster again.
"Within the week," Glorfindel replied, still casually passing his fingers through Elrohir's hair to help rinse the soap away.
Surprised, Elladan stopped what he was doing, but Elrohir did not move; he just closed his eyes again, as if he had heard enough.
"Really?" It was the older twin who seemed to not believe what he'd heard.
"Yes, Elladan."
"But ... I do not understand ... Don't the rules say that there cannot be such breaks? That the warrior has to face the challenges, regardless of how prepared he is?"
"Rules are for the organization, for the respect, Elladan. We try to follow them, but rather than fulfilling them all without question, we should stick to the first and most important of them."
The older twin blinked a few times, but now Elrohir's weakened voice came to reply.
"Respect the warrior and the fair fight."
Glorfindel lifted the corners of his lips in a tired smile.
"Yes," he said, holding his pupil a bit more securely. "Respect the warrior ... so there will be a fair fight," he said, offering his interpretation, the one he used when he asked the Council to postpone the ultimate bout. In fact no one really wished to do the contrary. "The Council has agreed to take this time for Elrohir to have an equal chance when he faces his new opponent."
Elladan sighed sadly, now looking at his brother, who finally closed his eyes, his head resting on his master's chest.
"Less harm..." Elladan said with an air of someone who looked tired of many things, of someone who really wanted see this exhausting day finished, but he still seemed too preoccupied with Elrohir. "Can you help me put him to bed? I am not sure he will actually sleep on his own despite the way he seems..."
Glorfindel looked at the older twin for a few moments before answering.
"Neither he nor you, would you not say? That was quite a fight for both of you," he said then with a resigned smile.
Elladan looked down, but then pursed his lips. His master always read Elrohir and him better than many who knew them for some time. He looked once more at his brother, who finally seemed asleep.
"I wish it was all finished..." Elladan said. "I... did not want to see him brandishing his sword for a while... not unless he had some more serious reason..."
Glorfindel inhaled deeply with that concern.
"You know you will see him doing this more often than you would like to in the coming years."
Elladan also sighed deeply, only for a different reason than his mentor.
"Facing enemies," he said. "I hope so ... And not... not the way it happened today."
The strange subtext of the young healer's comment made Glorfindel squint little.
"Enel crossed the line," he said, making the older twin press his lips together. Glorfindel saw disillusionment in his pupil's eyes he did not remember seeing before. "He crossed the line and will be punished, Elladan. But he's still an elf, one of our allies."
The twin exhaled, but instead of answering, he just stood up, catching the big white towel that was folded over a wooden ark. Glorfindel followed his movements with curiosity. The silence of either one of these brothers was never caused by anything pleasant.
"Tell me what is in your heart, elfling."
"Nothing. I just do not like competitions. But that is nothing new," the twin said, trying to evade admitting more. He opened the towel in his hands and waited for the aid Glorfindel had offered him; removing Elrohir from the tub and helping to prepare him for his rest.
But Glorfindel did not move, still looking at his pupil with attention.
"What happened today will not happen again in the final bout, Elladan. If there must be some provocation or trial in contention against the Alcarinqua, it will come down just on the person chosen to fight. Just that. You can be sure that whoever is chosen Alcarinqua for the ultimate duel will be a warrior who will treat your brother with dignity and respect, something that Enel, unfortunately, even with all the wonderful experience his past glories afforded him, does not know how to do."
Elladan twisted his lips and Glorfindel was surprised to realize that the young elf did not seem satisfied with the guarantees he'd received. When he went to ask him why, he was surprised to hear Elr, ohir's even weaker voice, as if he were speaking from one of his own dreams.
"It will be you ..." the younger twin said with eyes still closed. His tone was almost inaudible, and Glorfindel frowned, trying to understand better. "It will be you who I will have to face..."
Glorfindel had a moment of hesitation; only now did he understand the reason for the strange and unexpected sadness he had found in this room. It was hard to realize that all that pain was not only caused by the difficulties that the brothers had lived through today, but also because of the future, the uncertainty of which seemed to weigh on them more than it should.
"Whoever it is, elfling," he said, leaning close to the already sleeping twin's ear. "It will be someone who wants you well and will give you a fair and worthy fight, which is something that arrogant elf from the dock does not even know about."
I'd like to give thank to all friends who left a comment in the last chapter: sokkergurl, DreamingIn2Eternity, Gwedhiel0117, SilvanShemesh, world-classgeek, Lia Whyteleafe, Oleanne, Certh, Krissy001, LalaithElerrina, Evereven and Glory Bee.
Many, many thanks again to Puxinette, my wonderful friend and patient beta.