A/N: This chapter is dedicated to LadyLindariel, who has so faithfully reviewed every chapter so far, and who I tortured for the last couple days over this chapter.

Part VI

The grief-wracked group moved towards the gates of the House of Elrond slowly, as though afraid that any sudden movement might sever the slender hold on life Lady Celebrian held.

Suddenly there came a loud cry from the porch: 'Celebrian!'

The gate crashed open and Lord Elrond came running through it towards the bier that bore his dying wife. 'My star,' cried Elrond, falling to his knees beside the stretcher.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and, looking up, he recognised the face of his first-born son staring down at him with stricken eyes. 'Adar, we must get her inside. Elrohir says the mountain air harmed her lungs.'

'We will take her in. I will see to her, after which I wish to speak to you two.' He looked ominously at his two sons, who had the grace to look nervously at the ground.

Elladan and Elrohir went ahead to prepare the family's private healing room. By the time Glorfindel, Hérion, and Elrond entered with the injured Lady, they had turned down the bed covers, sterilised the necessary instruments, and had fetched several bowls of water, along with cloths, soap, and sponges. A towel hung on the rack by the bed.

Glorfindel and Hérion, after seeing there was nothing Elrond needed that could not be taken care of by the twins, slipped out of the room.

Elrond, with Elladan's help, lifted his wife onto the bed, smoothing the dirt-caked hair out of her face once she was safely on the bed.

'Elrohir, boil me some water now.' When Elrohir made no move, just continued staring at his mother's lifeless face, Elrond snapped, 'At once!'

As Elrohir moved off to do as he had been bidden, Elladan walked about the room gathering more necessaries as quietly as he could manage to avoid riling his father more.

A few moments later, Elladan's twin returned, bearing a steaming bowl. Setting it down on the bedside table, he handed a cloth to Elrond. 'You can help. You know how,' Elrond said brusquely. 'Elladan, get some more water boiling, please,' he continued, seeing Elladan's fallen expression.

With the most tender of touches, Elrond and Elrohir moved around Celebrian, sponging her face, arms, and neck off and attempting to comb out her knotted hair. However, it seemed that the Orcs had purposely tied it as tightly as they could manage.

Elrond, who was on his wife's right side, had cleaned her lower arm and was now moving towards the upper half. Here, most of her sleeve was stuck to her arm, though it was torn and slashed at in various places.

No matter how much he tried, Elrond could not manage to remove the fabric without rousing Celebrian.

'Elrohir.'

Instantly Elrohir was at his father's side.

'Hold her arm still. I have to cut the sleeve off,' Elrond instructed.

Elrohir obeyed, gently holding his mother's arm down on the mattress.

Elrond, taking one of the sterilized knives from the bedside table, carefully cut a long slit on the shoulder seam. Working his way down, he noted that the fabric was hardly stuck to flesh anymore, and that he could pretty much pull it off now.

Giving the fabric a gently tug, Elrond jumped when Elrohir sucked in his breath sharply and let got of Celebrían's arm to grasp his own, about midway between his elbow and shoulder. His face was deathly pale, almost the same hue as Celebrían's.

'It burns, Adar, it burns,' gasped Elrohir. He collapsed onto the floor and knelt there, rocking back and forth on his knees, cradling his arm and trying desperately to catch his breath.

Elladan, sensing his brother's distress, hurried to the door of the room where he was heating water. Seeing his brother on the floor, his father kneeling beside him, Elladan ran from the room to join them.

'Ro, what is it? What happened?' Elladan was frantic.

Elrohir could hardly talk. 'My...arm. Something – something stabbed it.'

'Let me see it, Elrohir,' Elrond snapped, trying to pry Elrohir's hands away from his arm. 'Let me see!'

Elrohir finally removed his hand from his arm, only to instantly replace it to his mouth, trying to stifle a scream of agony. 'Naneth,' he moaned.

Elladan, on a sudden impulse, stood up, retrieving the knife Elrond had dropped in his haste to get to Elrohir. Placing it by the bowl of water to be sterilized again, he took a second knife. Gently, he finished cutting away the sleeve of Celebrían's dress and sponged off the arm. There, as he had expected, was a knife wound, about four inches in length, about halfway between her elbow and shoulder.

'No,' he breathed. 'Ro, let me see your arm.'

As he again saw his brother's arm, he noticed that the white scar-like line that had appeared on Elrohir's arm was in exactly the same place as was the cut on his mother's.

Elrohir's arm was red and blotchy, and it was swelling painfully. Tears were tracking their way down Elrohir's cheeks, though he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep them at bay. 'Make it stop, Adar, make it stop,' he cried between sobs.

Elladan spoke up softly. 'He feels Naneth's pain.'

Elrond looked up at once, freezing when he saw how correct Elladan was. He too saw that the marks were in the same place on both arms. He glanced down at Elrohir, who was again clutching at his arm.

'Elrohir, sîdth. Look at me,' Elrond ordered.

Elrohir tried to hold his father's intense gaze but after only a few seconds dropped his eyes.

Elrond moved forwards and put his hand under Elrohir's chin, gently raising it, forcing Elrohir to meet his eyes. 'Elrohir, we need your help. You must gather yourself together. 'Tis your mother's agony you feel. We cannot stop your pain 'til we stop hers. Come now.' Elrond stood up, then gave his hand to Elrohir, who stood shakily and gratefully accepted the side of the bed Elladan vacated at once, seeing his brother's dizziness.

Once seated, he wiped the tears from his face, almost angrily, and looked up at his parent. 'What do you want me to do, Adar?' he asked, his voice thick from tears.

'You are a healer, Elrohir. You can do much more than I can,' Elladan answered for Elrond. 'You will know better what needs to happen. Tell us how Naneth feels.'

Elrohir studied the cut on Celebrían's arm. 'At least it does not seem to be poisoned,' he said, in the hopes of lightening tense feeling of the room as much as the present situation allowed.

'We cannot tell truly until we have lanced it,' responded Elrond in a dull voice.

'But it seems to be healing well enough,' Elladan protested. 'Why do we not leave it?'

'It is not swollen , but see! The skin at the edges is white and slightly puffed,' Elrond explained. 'It is caused by restrained pus. Besides, if it were healing properly, I think that it would not have caused Elrohir so much pain just now.'

Elladan, not having inherited very much healing skill, allowed himself to be outspoken gracefully, something which he did not always manage to do very well.

Elrond took a scalpel from the tray of instruments. He made three or four small incisions in the arm, causing pus and blood to spurt out in small streams. Much to Elrond's chagrin, he saw that there were also many tiny black dots in the blood. 'Though it is not poisoned, it is infected,' he finally announced. 'We must make a poultice of antrenas leaves.' He looked pointedly at Elrohir, who took the hint and left, mostly recovered from his ordeal, though his arm continued to throb uncomfortably.

'Elladan, the water you began heating will be mostly evaporated by now, I expect. You may as well use whatever remains with athelas. More than just your mother could use it now,' he said, giving the herb room where Elrohir was preparing the poultice a fleeting glance.

Elladan rose and went back to the small fireplace. The pot of water was indeed boiling, though the amount in it had diminished greatly.

He joined Elrohir in the herb room and selected the last four leaves of athelas. Taking them the main room along with the bowl of hot water, he tossed the leaves in the water.

Elrohir came out a moment later with the finished poultice in his hands.

Taking it, Elrond wrapped the cloth around his wife's arm. While waiting for it to take affect, Elrond allowed his gaze to stray around the room. The shut door and the almost bare walls. Elladan was standing in front of the window, hands clasped behind his back, scowling at the sunset. Elrohir was again seated on the bed, this time at the foot. He was absent-mindedly pulling loose threads from the quilt. Suddenly Elrohir heaved a sigh and his hand moved from the stubborn thread to his mother's ankle. His thumb and middle finger could easily reach around her ankle and meet again. 'She is so thin,' he said softly.

'Aye, little one, but do not fear. Soon she shall strengthen and be able to eat more.' Elrond's voice smiled slightly, though his eyes remained troubled.

By and by, the sharp, stabbing sensation in Elrohir's arm diminished to a dull throbbing: the poultice seemed to be doing its work well.

After tending to Celebrían's numerous other cuts and scrapes, caused by the Orcs' sharp claws and their cruel beatings, Elrond decided that there was nothing else he could do at the moment. 'We shall know more when she wakes up,' he said to the twins. 'In the meantime, I should like to have a word with you.' He raised an eyebrow at them.

Elladan and Elrohir sighed inwardly, slowly obeying their father when he gestured to them to stand up and walk around to the side of the bed he was on.

It took nearly all of Elrond's will power not to smile at the identical looks of obvious discomfort on their faces. However, with a heroic amount of effort, he kept his face as blank as an unused sheet of parchment.

Elrond stared at them for a moment, changing a chuckle into an un-Elvish snort when Elrohir's hands flew behind his back and his hair fell over one shoulder as he bowed his head in shame and nervousness.

It was an old school-time stance: when they had been caught in the garden during study time by either their tutors or their parents, Elrohir would immediately show guilt, whereas Elladan would argue that they were learning about nature.

But their parents did not seem to understand the importance of studying nature, for after they were re-deposited at their desks, Elrond and Celebrian would request the annoyed tutor to assign extra homework to the naughty Elflings.

Upon hearing the nervous giggle coming from Elladan upon his father's ungainly snort, Elrond recovered himself enough to say, 'I think this conversation would be better to continue in my study.'

With a last glance towards his sleeping wife, he strode towards the door and held it open for his sons, who came considerably more slowly.

As they walked towards the study, Elrohir murmured, 'I wonder if it really will be only a word.'

Elladan glanced up sharply to where their father walked about six feet in front of them and replied in an undertone, 'Well, his minimum lecture time is an hour. If it is just one word, it will take at least an hour to say, otherwise, he will say one word, and then give us his horrible 'silent lecture' for the rest of the time.'

'Unfortunately, you are both wrong,' spoke up Elrond, causing both twins to jump. 'I have every intention of saying many words to you, for any amount of time, whether under an hour or over I cannot say. I expect I could lecture you for a week on all the subjects I intend to cover.'

By this time they had reached the study door and he had turned to face them, his hand on the doorknob.

His face now no longer held any sign of his past amusement at his sons' predicament. Instead, there was a hint of anger and deep disappointment. Opening the door, he jerked his head towards it. 'In.'

Once the door was shut behind them and the miscreants had been placed before the desk to Elrond's liking, he went to stand behind his desk chair, resting his hands on its smooth back.

'So what have you to say for yourselves?' he finally asked.

Two dark heads were simultaneously bowed. But Elrond was not moved by this contrite gesture. 'Well?'

At last Elladan answered, staring at a fascinating knot on the wood floor. 'We are sorry, Adar, we did not mean to disobey you.'

Elrond fought the urge to snort again. 'Do not be ridiculous, Elladan. Of course you meant to disobey me, otherwise you would have found some way to keep yourself here. And as to being sorry, I am sure you are, but only because you know very well that I am going to ground you.'

Elrond let these harsh words sink into his erring children for a moment, then addressed Elladan again. 'And next time you speak to me, try to remember to look at me.'

Elladan nodded mutely, feeling his face going hot as he flushed. Unconsciously his hand reached for Elrohir's, who gripped it sympathetically, equally unconscious of the movement.

Elrohir knew his father expected him to speak now, but he did not know what to say. He continued to stare at the floor, phrases and excuses running through his head.

'Elrohir.'

He jerked his head up at the sound of his name. 'I-I know, Adar, I was –' he stopped, hesitating. Glancing to Elladan for help, he found none and looked back to the imposing form of his father. 'We were wrong to do what we did,' he finally conceded. 'But we had to do something. You should not have expected us to stay –'

Elrond interrupted him. 'Do not tell me what I should or should not have done, Elrohir Elrondion. I gave you an order and I expected it to be obeyed. I fully expected you to stay.'

As he finished speaking, he moved around the desk to stand immediately in front of the twins, glaring at them.

Elladan was gazing at his brother, shocked, while Elrohir returned Elrond's look, respectfully but unflinching.

'You are too hasty,' Elrond ground out from between clenched teeth. 'It will be your downfall one day.' Though he still held Elrohir's mostly-calm gaze, he addressed them both.

Finally cowed by the furious sparks in Elrond's eyes, Elrohir dropped his eyes, emitting an almost inaudible sigh as he did so. Elladan turned to his father, opening his mouth to say something.

'It is not like you, Elrohir, to act in such haste,' Elrond continued in a gentler voice, cutting Elladan off. 'Most times you think before you act, but this time you ignored your feelings and behaved rashly.'

He paused as he noticed Elladan's eyes flicker to his brother for an instant. 'Or was it perhaps –'

'Nay, Adar, you speak the truth,' interrupted Elrohir without thinking. 'I did act without thought.

'As you just spoke without thought,' Elrond replied wryly.

Elrohir was confused for a moment and drew his brows together, wondering what his father was speaking of. Understanding, he blushed. 'Forgive me for interrupting, Adar.'

Elrond inclined his head slightly. He turned back to Elladan. 'Now Elladan, it was your idea, was it not?' His voice was again dangerously soft.

'Yes, Adar. At first Elrohir did not wish to go. He reminded me that we would be disobeying you, but I did not care. I wanted to go find Naneth, and I supposed Elrohir would not oppose my plan. But he did.'

Elladan half-smiled and Elrohir took his chance to break in once again.

'No, no, it was not like that Elladan. I – I had every intention of going with you, but...' He trailed off into silence.

'But what?' prompted Elrond.

Elrohir tossed his head in defiance. 'But nothing, Adar! But nothing! It was not simply Elladan's idea. I knew he would go, despite what you said. And I knew I would go with him.'

Elrond moved to the window. 'I thank you for telling the truth, at any rate, if for nothing else,' he said dryly. 'However, there were countless other faults you two committed on the way. For instance, breaking your promises to Glorfindel to go with Hérion and his Elves if you met with them after joining Glorfindel.'

Elladan, who finally gotten his tongue back, muttered unwisely, 'Hang Glorfindel. Why did he have to tell everything?'

'Because I asked him and he knows better than to go against the orders of his overlord.' Elrond turned back to his sons. 'Do not frown at me, Elladan. It is unbecoming to your features.'

Elladan's scowl darkened. Elrohir, seeing this was leading no where good, stepped in front of his hot-tempered brother, hoping to shield him slightly.

'What would you do if your mother was taken by Orcs, yes, I know, Naneth is your wife, but just let me continue,' Elrohir insisted boldly as Elrond took several steps towards him, his face as dark as Elladan's. 'What would you do if you were going after her and you got more than half-way there, only to meet with your father's best friend who made you go back with the party of Elves searching for you?'

'I would not obey him, for he would have no power over me. Lord though Glorfindel may be, I am his overlord as long as he dwells in Imladris, the same as I am yours. I sent Hérion out to bring you back here, and when he had you, you escaped while he was fighting Orcs. You forced him to return to me and report, saying that though he was watching you every moment you were awake, you still managed to evade him.'

'I do not regret doing it, nor shall I ever,' Elrohir replied, his dark eyes flashing. Though he may seem quiet at most times, when defending the actions of his brother or himself that he believed had been done with good cause, he was as quick and rash as Elladan.

Firm hands came down to rest on his shoulders and he was spun around and moved back to beside Elladan.

'Elrohir, you will not speak again until I bid you to, and if you do, you shall face more severe consequences than you already are.'

Elrohir looked as though he would protest but Elladan gave him a solid kick in the shin and Elrohir merely yelped in pain and surprise. Casting a glance at his father's eerily-calm face he knew that only an insane Elf would go against his orders at this point.

Elladan was usually much more vocal in discussions like this one, but never had he seen Elrohir act so forward and brash, and it stunned him. He decided to see the outcome of his brother's words and stood in silence until he saw that Elrohir was going to say something again, right after being forbidden to do so.

Elrond turned his eyes from Elrohir's stubborn face to Elladan's bewildered face. 'Since your brother has expressed himself so fully, what have you to say?'

Elladan swallowed hard and glanced at the steely countenance of his brother. He felt much as Elrohir did but he had no desire to tell his father, nor did he think of telling a lie: his father always saw through those sorts of things. 'I am sorry that Hérion was forced to give you such a report,' he finally said, glancing up to gauge his father's response to his statement. 'I will apologise to him for his troubles, but not for running away from him.'

'You most certainly will apologise to him,' Elrond agreed. He did not appear to have been further angered by the second part of Elladan's reply, perhaps because it was so much more respectfully given than was Elrohir's. 'Elrohir will too, will you not, Elrohir?'

Elrohir glared daggers at the tips of his boots before looking up at Elrond and replying obstinately, 'I will go with Elladan.'

Elrond lifted his eyes to the ceiling and blew out a breath of air. Thank Eru Elladan is acting like Elrohir for this. I do not think I could manage both of them if they were both being this difficult. Turning to Elrohir, he said, 'If I need to stand behind you and make sure you do, I will.'

Elrohir felt the touch of Elladan's mind against his own. 'Elrohir, stop being an idiot; you are dragging this on much longer than it needs to be. You do realise he is going to start treating you as a child soon.'

'Leave me alone, Elladan. It is not as though you would care.'

'Very well, Elfling,' responded Elladan, intending it to cut.

With a low cry of fury, Elrohir turned to face his brother. Raising his hand, he struck Elladan across the face before either Elrond or Elladan could do anything to stop him. Instantly he lifted his hand to do it again when he found it caught in an iron grip. He gave an involuntarycry of pain as his arm was twisted behind his back. The gesture was repeated with his other arm.

He was angry, furiously angry and he didn't care what happened to him. He struggled futilely against his father but he could do next to nothing because kicking meant he would jerk against his arms, which were still held in a grip that was tightened each time he tried to get away.

Tears of rage began to course their way down his cheeks and finally he was forced to his knees by the pain in his arms. He knelt there as Elrond gradually released his agonising grip on his arms. Still not wishing to give in, he half-heartedly tried to shake off the restraining hand Elrond kept on his shoulder, so as to discourage any impulsive move towards his brother.

Elladan's cheek was bright red and a bruise was already beginning to show. Elrohir's nails had scraped some skin off from right below Elladan's left eye, and one particularly deep scrape was bleeding sluggishly. He was staring at Elrohir, still slightly dazed, but Elrohir would not look up. 'I... forgive me, Ro. I should not have called you that.'

Elrohir made no sign that he had even heard Elladan speaking.

'Elladan, is your cheek alright?' asked Elrond, slightly concerned. He stepped around Elrohir and turned Elladan's face this way and that, inspecting the scratches and bruising. 'The scratches will heal in a day or two, and the bruise not long after that. Come here please, Elrohir.'

Slowly Elrohir stood up and went to stand with his father and brother, staring between their heads. 'Elrohir, have you not been stubborn enough already?' sighed Elrond. 'You know what I want you to do.'

'I do know,' answered Elrohir in a tight voice. 'But I am not sorry, Adar. It served him right.'

'Why? What did he do?'

But Elrohir resolutely shut his mouth, crossed his arms and scowled at the floor.

'Answer me please, Elrohir.' Elrond's voice, though gentle, brooked no argument.

'Adar, I–'

'Elladan, I am asking your brother. You are free to leave in a moment.' Moving to his desk, he grabbed a stack of papers. 'In your free time for the next week you will write reports of the Guard training.' Elrond handed him the pile and ignored the small scowl. Elladan hated writing reports.