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The House of Elrond

When dawn came with no word from the other side of the avalanche, and no hope of breaching it, Tinuhen led the elves down from the Misty Mountains.

They had no other choice. It was on pure luck they had escaped the avalanche, but one of their wagons were lost under the snow and one elf had almost been buried with it. They had little left in the way of supplies, and they needed to reach Rivendell soon. All they could do was cling to the hope that Legolas would be waiting for them there.

It was as Beren had feared. Had the High Pass not failed them the elves would have been in Rivendell almost a month before Midwinter; now it was impossible to tell when or how they would reach it. There were other passes, but Tinuhen knew very little about them.

The elves were pale and haggard and none of them spoke a word, not even when they came down to easier terrain and the sturdy woods of the foothills. As they rode the morning grew clear and sunny like the one before it. The mountains towering to their right looked calm and harmless like sleeping giants, and Tinuhen felt like they were mocking him. He knew by now how treacherous they were. They had tricked him into trusting them, to think that he understood them, and then, roaring with laughter, they had proven him wrong. When Tinuhen thought about it he could not help but cringe with shame.

Legolas - young, reckless, stupid Legolas - had known better than him.

And - ai Elbereth, Legolas. Tinuhen had promised mother and father to protect him, and he had tried - even when Legolas annoyed him until he never wanted to hear his voice again, even when he was disobedient or foolish or kept asking stupid questions, even when he made the others laugh when they ought to be serious, even when he made Tinuhen look like a fool in front of them when he fought so hard to gain their respect - all the time, Tinuhen had tried to protect him. Maybe he hadn't always been nice, and maybe he would rather that Legolas would have stayed at home, but he had wanted him to be safe.

And now - now Legolas might be...

No, Tinuhen thought and chewed on his thumb nail. Legolas is in Rivendell. He got away. He must have.

"My prince!" Tulus called out, coming up the ridge ahead. "We found a milestone. The road must be under the snow just there."

Tinuhen took a deep breath. He must stay focused. Tulus had ridden ahead with Hethulin to scout, and Tinuhen rode after him, over the ridge and into the valley behind it. There was a milestone all right, and he could still read the letters carved into it - High Pass and Framsburg to the north, Moria and Hollin to the south.

"There's no way to tell exactly how the road goes under the snow", Tulus said. "And other stones might be snowed over."

Tinuhen nodded. "We'll have to guess our way and follow the mountains, but we will try to keep to the milestones if we can. Tell me if you see anything else of importance. But be cautious."

"Yes, my prince", Tulus said. Hethulin said nothing. There was not an ounce of respect in the way she looked at him. She had never liked Tinuhen much, and it seemed now that Beren was not able to tell her off, she thought she could speak to him however she wanted.

Tinuhen refused to take the bait. Hethulin had argued so furiously against leaving the mountains that he had been afraid she would go against his orders and stay. He had wanted to discuss it, but she had not been open to discussion, and so Tinuhen had been forced to make a decision that he was no more certain of than anyone else.

Truth was, he had no idea if they were doing the right thing. Perhaps they were leaving Legolas to a certain death, only maybe they were riding into its gap themselves. Tinuhen wondered what father would have done, or Beren or lord Elrond. But he could not ask them. He was the leader now, and a leader must never show himself in doubt. After all that had happened, Tinuhen could not afford to be weak.

He rode back to the others, who were only just coming over the top of the hill. Maidh rode first, keeping careful watch ahead. Behind him came Laeros. He was still pale and hardly spoke a word, but he sat upright on Beren's horse and his eyes were alert. Something had come back to him when the Shadow came over the Forest Road, an instinct, just like Legolas had said. Now there was also life.

They moved slowly through the valley as the sun rose to its highest peak. Then they stopped to eat and let the horses graze what little dry winter grass they could find under the snow. Once the foothills and the Vale of Anduin had been the home of a numerous people, but the éoréd had left only crumbling houses and empty castles behind. They had moved north first, and founded their capital Framsburg where the rivers Langwell and Greylin met, but not long after that they had moved south instead. Now the foothills were empty, and the elves would have to manage on their own.

Tinuhen could barely get anything down. The others looked at him in the corners of their eyes - he was certain of it, though he never caught them doing it. They must know it was all his fault, and they must know that however much Tinuhen tried to pretend it was not true, Beren had been their leader all along. He was the one who knew and understood. He was the one who had seen things. All Tinuhen knew about journeys and leadership and survival he had learnt from books, and the mountains had blown that knowledge away like dust in the wind.

When he could bear it no longer, Tinuhen stood up and walked over to the wagon - the only one they had left. In it, on the bed of furs and blankets that had belonged to Laeros, lay Beren.

"How is he?"

The healer, who sat on the edge of the wagon with her bowl of meagre soup cupped in her hands, shook her head. "Not better, not worse. Time will prove."

"There must be something you can do."

"Nothing we haven't already done."

Tinuhen sat down beside her. Beren frowned in his sleep, clenched his hands on top of the blankets. His face was as pale as the snow. His eyes were closed in exhaustion.

"But what - what's the matter with him?"

"The cold. His leg - it pains him greatly. But most of all it was the weight of snow. Something is broken inside him. Its poisoning his body from within."

"Can it not be healed?"

"We do not have the means to do much for him now, more than keep him warm and safe."

"We must bring him to Rivendell."

"Of course", the healer said dryly, "but that is the point of it all, is it not?"

Tinuhen sighed and pulled one knee up to his chest. Then he put it down again; it hardly fit a prince to sit like that.

Mere moments later he realized he was biting his thumbnails again. He clenched his hands to keep himself from doing it.

He thought of Rivendell, the shelves upon shelves of books in Erestor's library, the great telescope under the glass dome in lord Elrond's astronomy tower, the white house and the cliffs around it rising higher than any walls, so that one never had no worry about wolves or wargs or goblins ... He had never felt as safe as in Rivendell. None of the dangers of home could ever get into that blessed valley. In there, he had never been scared.

We will get there while there is still time, he thought. Lord Elrond can save Beren. He can. He can do anything.

It was darkening when Elladan and Elrohir led the rangers into the valley of Rivendell.

The valley wound a deep scar in the mountainside, and the path led steeply down the side of it, past a water-fall that splashed into an ice-edged stream, and in between tall pine trees. Tucked into the folds of the mountain was a white stone house. As they rode down the path the house vanished from their view, but they could see the smoke rising from a chimney, and hear the sound of people singing softly at a distance. Legolas frowned when he heard what song it was.

"By the Valar!" Arahad said. "The Mourning, again? Elladan..."

"Is somebody dead?" Legolas whispered to Findel.

Findel shook his head. "They're mourning their lady. It is almost two years since Celebrían sailed and you might think they would be over..."

One of the twins gave Findel such a dark look over his shoulder the ranger fell silent and huddled in his saddle. When the elf looked away, Findel smiled faintly at Legolas and said: "Of course, some things must have their time. But had you come here two years ago they would have sung something silly about dirty rangers and lost elflings."

It was the last thing Legolas would have thought about noldor - that they would like to sing silly things. The low, longing tones of the Mourning sounded much more like the Rivendell he had heard about.

The next time they saw the House of Elrond it towered above them, high on the uneven ground. It looked old and yet unaffected by wind and weather; strong as if it had grown out of the very rocks it stood on, but light and airy like a palace from the old days. A warm light glowed in the arched windows and shimmered on the snow. The path led through an archway where two sentinels stood, hidden but for the reflection of torch-light in their armour, and the glint of moonlight in their hair. The rangers rode past them and onto a snow-covered courtyard.

They were there at last. It was hard to believe. After so many weeks of walking and riding and sleeping on bare ground, and everything that had happened - the Shadow and Tuiw and father and finally the avalanche - the House of Elrond stood there with light in the windows and smoke from the chimney as if it had been waiting for Legolas the whole time.

And perhaps it had. They were expected. A dozen elves stood on top of the stair that led to the great front doors, and as soon as they saw the rangers they came down to great them. They talked eagerly in clear, melodious voices, and the rangers embraced them like old friends and greeted them all by name. Then the elves looked at Legolas, and they fell silent because they did not know how to greet him.

Arahad laughed at them. "What's this?" he asked. "Do you not know the name of everything and everyone that comes into Rivendell?"

"We do", the elves said, wide-eyed, "but not this one!"

Legolas felt strangely satisfied that the elves knew no more of him than he knew of them. They weren't entirely uneven, after all. He watched them from under the wide hood of his green cloak, thinking that if he couldn't look as magnificent as the noldor, at least he could look as mysterious.

Because they did look magnificent, and yet not as he had expected. Everybody at home had made them sound stern and solemn and arrogant, above the company of wood-elves and, consequently, above the company of men. These elves were kind and smiled a lot, and even if they looked like the noldor Tinuhen had so admired - dark of hair and starry-eyed, and tall and proud like kings - they didn't seem to be above the company of anyone.

"You will know sooner or later", Arahad said, "but I don't want any of you to torment him with questions, is that understood? The child is with me. And I need to talk to lord Elrond."

Some of the elves took their horses, the others ushered the rangers inside and led Arahad away to lord Elrond. They walked through a hall edged with pillars, down a hallway where moonlight pooled under great arched windows, and through so many doors with carved frames and silver knobs that Legolas lost count. Sometimes they passed doors that stood ajar to reveal other rooms, and sometimes windows that overlooked the snowy garden or the icy river. The moonlight twinkled in silver chandeliers on the walls, or in the metallic threads woven into great tapestries.

At last they came to another hall, a rather small one where a fire burnt in between carved pillars. Elves were seated around the fire and in the great windows, or they stood or sat half in shadow so that at first they looked like statues, but at a second glance they had moved. Legolas stopped in the doorway. Something about the room felt so much like home he almost thought he had woken up from a very long dream. Maybe it was the fire. Maybe the soft singing of elven voices and the tunes of a lute. Legolas had never longed for home as much as now when he could almost have been there.

"This is the Hall of Fire", Findel said. "The elves gather here in the evenings to sing and tell stories."

"The Hall of Fire?"

"Yes."

"We have a Hall of Trees at home."

"You have? Come." Findel took his hand and led him to the fire. "I'm starving."

There was food and drink set out for the rangers, but they had little time to eat because the elves wanted to know everything about their travels since they last met. For a long while it was quiet while Hawn - who was truly a good story-teller - spoke about journeys to the far north and battles against wolves and bandit attacks and markets in Dale and adventures in a place called Bree. The elves were good listeners, but sometimes they interrupted him with questions. It was just like the evenings at home, when the hunters shared tales of their day's work with the foresters and the rafters and the elves that had stayed in the Mountain.

When he neared the end of the tale, one of the elves across the fire turned to Legolas and asked: "What about you?" He was the only other elfling in the room and hardly more than a year or so older than Legolas. He had a harp in his lap, and he looked kind but rather serious.

Legolas hesitated. Tinuhen had never wanted them to keep lying once they were in Rivendell, but he had said that they must still be careful, and maybe it was different now that it was only Legolas. At least Tinuhen had been here before. Perhaps he knew who they could trust and who could be a traitor.

"What's your name?" the other boy asked. "Or it's alright if you're shy..."

Legolas didn't want them to think he was afraid. He straightened. "It's Legolas. Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you too. My name is Lindir", said the boy politely, after which the other elves had to say their names too, and they were so many Legolas remembered not a single one.

"Isn't that the name of the youngest prince?" someone asked, and Legolas hesitated again. He glanced at Hawn, then over at Findel who sat across the fire. He didn't want to tell them he had been lying, not just yet - and anyway Tinuhen might be safer as long as no one knew he was there.

"It is", he said. "I was named after him. It's a silvan name."

"So why are you here?" the elves asked. "And all alone!"

"Here, now", Findel said. "It's very late, and Legolas had been through a lot. Let him..."

"No, it's alright. I can tell them." Legolas looked up at the foreign, dark-haired elves and decided that he was not going to be afraid of them. Maybe they would find him unsophisticated, and maybe they would not. He was a prince, even if they did not know it yet. "I was supposed to come here with my father", he said. "His name is Beren and he's the leader of the guard at home. But last night when we set up camp below the High Pass there was an avalanche and Beren... father and all the others got stuck behind it. I was lucky because I was with the rangers."

Then, because the elves were still very curious, he told them about the journey. Most of the noldor had never been to Greenwood so he had to explain it to them, the Mountain and the Forest Road and Ninniach and her elves; the Shadow and Tuiw and how fa... the Elvenking was injured and they still did not know what was wrong. He told them about the grassy hills beyond the forest edge, and the river and the great eagle they had seen in the mountains. He said he didn't know exactly why they were travelling to Rivendell, but it was something important that his father had to talk to lord Elrond about. The elves listened without a word until Legolas was finished. Then they asked a lot of questions, and they did not seem to think that Legolas was unsophisticated at all. He felt as though something that he had dreaded for a long time had suddenly turned out not to be a scary as he had thought - and yet he had never realized he had dreaded it at all.

Eventually the elves started talking about other things. Some of them - the boy named Lindir among them - took their harps and flutes and played softly in the background. Sometimes the other elves sung with them. Legolas yawned, pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. For the first time in weeks he was warm down to his toes, the wind could not reach him through the sturdy stone walls of the house of Elrond, and even his shoes were dry. He would have been very happy, if not for his companions stuck in the mountains.

Where were they now? Arahad had said they would probably head for some other pass, so maybe they had already left. Or maybe, Legolas thought anxiously, they were dead. The thought made him feel as if he could not get enough air. He had tried to keep it at bay ever since the avalanche, but he could never get it out of his head completely.

Suddenly everyone fell silent around him. One elf was standing up and had started to sing. She was young and tall and raven-haired, and her face was as soft as a little bird's - but when she sung her voice was strong like the northern wind. Legolas thought she seemed sad; sad and proud, as if she wore her sadness like a crown. Other elves fell in with her, but her voice rose above theirs as if born on stronger wings until it filled the entire room. She sung about the Two Trees and when Legolas closed his eyes he could see them before him, the silver one and the golden one, long ago and far away.

He opened his eyes and watched the elves. Their faces were grave in the fire-light. In some ways the noldor were not so different from the wood-elves, like when Hawn had told his story and they interrupted him with questions, but he could feel that they were also ancient and powerful and terrifying. There was and elf in a midnight-blue robe with silver chains woven into his hair, and though his eyes were kind they were also deep and dark as if all the knowledge of the world were in them. And there was another elf, fair-haired and stern, who sat still by the fire but had that unpredictable air of a deadly warrior, ready to strike any moment.

The song ended and for a while everything was quiet but for the fire hissing. Then slowly the conversations took up again where they had stopped.

"The woman who sung", Legolas said, leaning towards Hawn, "is she lady Arwen?"

"Aye. She is."

Legolas looked around. "Her brothers aren't here."

"No", Hawn said. "They never are. It's probably for the best - it's hard to be happy when they're around."

It seemed like such a sad thing to say. It had been hard to be happy when Laeros was around too, but in the wagon or in his tent he was alone with his torments, and that was even worse to think of. Laeros' pain was so great in comparison to the discomfort of having him around, it would be unfair to deny him the company. But the twins had left without a word as soon as they rode onto the courtyard. Maybe they wanted to be alone.

"There's a lot of sadness here", Legolas said.

"Aye", Hawn said quietly. "Lady Celebrían... And then there's always sadness where there are noldor."

"What for?"

"Well, you know the stories, don't you? About their Exile. Beleriand. The Last Alliance. Hollin - lost a thousand years ago. That's nothing for elves of this age. They remember it all."

"Oh", Legolas said. He had never realized that these elves were the same elves he'd heard about in all those tales. The wood-elves always said the noldor just sat in their valley doing nothing, so Legolas had assumed that was what they had always done.

"My father was in the Last Alliance", he said. "And my mother too."

"I am sure they remember it well."

Father did. He never spoke of it, and Legolas knew it was because it would have made him too sad; sometimes he traced the small scar on the back of his hand and looked like he did not see what was before him in the room, but other things long ago that no one else could see. He had lost his own father in that war. Mother... a club had hit her on the side of her head. It ought to have killed her, but it did not; instead the iron spikes left deep marks on the side of her head and she used to braid her hair to cover them. Sometimes she forgot and you could see the knot of white scars around her ear. Legolas could never help but stare at them. When she caught him doing it she smiled and put her hair down and looked like usual again.

Legolas bit his lip. Mother wasn't there. He thought of the miles and miles of stone and field and forest between Rivendell and home and suddenly he was frightened. He felt like he was drowning.

Hawn yawned. "It's getting late. Are you tired, Legolas?"

"A little."

"The elves will keep on singing for hours more, but I want at least one full night's sleep before we leave again. I'll go to bed soon."

Legolas looked up. "You're leaving?"

"Not tomorrow", Hawn assured him. "But maybe the day after that. We're rangers - we have work to do. But we'll be back before Midwinter, and stay over Yule I think."

"What kind of work?"

"Oh", Hawn said. "Everything you can imagine, and a little bit more. We make sure the villages around here are safe, and that the goblins and wargs don't get too bold, and that the roads are free from trolls and bandits, and sometimes we protect merchants and other travellers when they're journeying through the wild. Now that winter's come, it's dangerous out here if you don't have a valley like this to protect you."

Legolas should have expected that they would leave, of course. He had not even known the rangers were so close friends with the noldor. But he hadn't given much thought to what would happen once he arrived in Rivendell either.

How long until Tinuhen would come? A week, or more? A month?

Legolas rubbed his eyes. His head was exhausted from all the worried thoughts in it. He wanted to sleep and when he woke up he wanted Tinuhen to be there and Hethulin and everyone else. More than anything, he wanted to go home.

But he wasn't going to cry. He was a prince, and princes do not cry.

Tinuhen would make it in time. Maybe he didn't know a lot about mountains, and maybe he didn't like Legolas, but he could set everything right. He could. He could do anything.

He must have dozed off. When he woke again it was quiet, and he lay on a bed under a thin wool blanket. A ray of moonlight shone through the curtains and onto his face.

Legolas sat up.

He was alone in the room - a small room, plainly furnished, but with a fire-place in which the embers were still glowing and a washstand and a wardrobe throwing shadows on the floor - and he could not remember how he got there. He was still wearing his own clothes, but someone had taken off his shoes.

Legolas swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet sank down in a soft, blue carpet. He walked over to window, pushed the veil-like curtains aside and saw the courtyard shimmering in the light of the fading moon. There was no light in any of the windows.

Legolas wrapped his arms around him and leaned to the window frame. A wind stirred the snow on the courtyard and whistled softly in the chimney. A tawny owl called. It wasn't entirely quiet after all. And there was a sound, or a feeling, almost like the humming of the earth at home - that feeling of life and warmth that was Greenwood. It was different here, but equally alive. He could feel The House of Elrond slowly breathing in and out.

And he could feel the Mountains. He felt them towering over Rivendell, felt the miles and miles of stone beneath them and weight of the sky that they carried on their shoulders. When they arrived Legolas had looked for ways out of the valley - there was two, the narrow winding path up to the north, and another path that led south over a bridge and into the forest. But he could not take any of them, for they led into the mountains. Legolas felt like a bear in a trapping pit.

He could not stand it. The night made everything feel small and insignificant. He found his shoes on the floor beside the bed, and his cloak folded on a chair with the belt with his dagger placed on top of it. There was also a small pile of clothes that weren't his, and they were probably meant for him to borrow, but he ignored them. He put his shoes on, wondered if he should take the dagger, then decided that if the traitor was out for him he might as well have use for it. The door swung open almost soundlessly when he tried it. Standing in the corridor outside the room, he could hear one of the rangers snoring in the room next to his.

Left or right? It didn't matter; Legolas had no idea where he was, expect it seemed to be the north wing. He set off to the right.

The corridors were all dark. It seemed the elves were asleep too. He passed doors closed around their secrets, and a few open to empty parlours and other corridors. He walked past great colourful tapestries, and windows with painted glass, and statues so life-like he expected them to move any moment, and an apple-tree that grew on bare earth in the middle of a round room. He stood under the tree and watched the moonlight run like molten silver along its branches. He wondered what would happen now, with the meeting and the traitor and no one here to do something but him. He begun to realize the enormity of him being here alone.

Then he froze.

He had thought he heard a voice - somebody whispering just around the corner. Or had he imagined it?

The traitor? Legolas instinctively reached for his dagger, but he did not pull it out of the sheath. A doorway opened to his right and the voice, if there truly was one, had come from there.

He moved closer. He was a wood-elf, but he was also of the Mountain, and he knew how to move soundlessly over stone as well as through the forest. No one would hear him if he did not want them to.

He turned the corner and found himself in a corridor, broad enough to be a hall, with great windows on one side. The other side was covered in tapestries that looked older than the Ages, and paintings so old the paint was worn off or bleached so the motives were almost impossible to make out. There were so many things laid out on shelves and pedestals that Legolas had to slow down and look. On a mannequin stood a dented suit of armour that missed one pauldron, and on a display case behind thick glass lay a broken necklace and pieces of parchment crammed with runes. There was an old, battle-worn helmet on a table with spindly legs, and on a podium of sorts, laid out on black velvet, was a sword in shards. In the middle of the hallway, between a tapestry of dancing elves and a painting of a fair-haired warrior, were two great doors. They had carvings of roses and thorns over them and the gilded letters above read: The only treasure greater than a book is two books.

It seemed an odd thing to write on a door (or to write at all, Legolas thought and could not help but be reminded of Tinuhen) but nevertheless he wanted to see what was behind them. He looked around. The hallway seemed empty thus far. Legolas laid his ear to the door and listened. There was no sound. As carefully as one picks up an empty eggshell, Legolas pulled at the doors.

They were locked.

Treasure, he thought and glanced at the letters again. Maybe it was lord Elrond's treasure chamber! In that case he should not try to get inside.

And besides, whoever he had heard was in the hallway, not behind the doors. Slowly he walked past them. He could still not see anyone. Maybe in the shadows between the pillars at the end of the hallway... the curtains were closed over the windows at the far end. If anyone was hiding in the corridor, it would be there. Legolas stared into the shadows, suddenly afraid to move closer.

Something stirred. The curtains billowed as if something had brushed past them.

Legolas held his breath.

For a long while he did not dare to move.

Something - someone - was staring back at him.

He caught the metallic glint of silver, a pair of grey eyes, a dark figure that lifted its head. Out of the shadows came a clear but broken voice: "Why are you here?"

Legolas knew that voice.

Another elf looked up from where he had rested his head against the first one's shoulder. The two sat very close, but this was not a meeting of lovers. Even in the dark and silence Legolas saw their sadness like a heavy cloak on their shoulders.

"I am sorry", he said. "I didn't mean to bother anyone."

The first of the dark-haired twins nodded slowly, as though to say the apology was accepted. Or maybe that was not at all what he meant and he was going to kill Legolas, because Findel had said the twins were like demons. He wanted to leave but he did not dare to move until the twins had told him to.

The first one said: "You are the Greenwood child."

"Yes."

"It is very late."

"I, uh... I couldn't sleep."

The twin stood up, even though the other growled and tried to hold him back. He took a few steps forward, so that he came out of the shadows and Legolas could see him clearly. He did not wear his armour, but a plain brown tunic that looked like it had seen many battles. A single silver pearl was braided into his hair.

"Does anything ache you?"

Legolas bit his lip. The grief in the elf's eyes was stronger than the fury, stronger than the hatred, and Legolas knew he would never be as troubled as these elves.

"No", he said. "Nothing important."

"Yet it keeps you awake."

"Well, yes."

The elf tilted his head to the side. "You have come a long way."

"Yes." Legolas looked at his feet, then up at the elf again. Was that curiosity in his eyes? "Um... what's your name?"

"Oh - it's Elladan."

"Pleased to meet you", Legolas said automatically.

Miraculously, Elladan's lips curved upward into something like a smile. "Your name was Legolas, was it not?"

"It was."

"Elladan", the other elf hissed. Elladan turned to him, then back to Legolas, and his eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Perhaps you should return to you own quarters."

"Yes", Legolas said hastily and began to leave, but then he turned. He wanted to say something more, something comforting, but he did not know what could make these elves any less sad. "Will I.. will I see you again?"

"I do not know."

"I hope I will", he said without thinking, even though he was not sure he wanted to.

But Elladan smiled again, that eerie shadow of a smile that did not even reach half-way to his eyes, and yet it made him look just a little less sad. "Perhaps we will, then, little one. Perhaps we will."

I'm not as happy with this chapter as I'd like, but I honestly don't think I can make it any better... and I didn't want to delay the update again. So while it's not perfect, I hope you'll bear with me :) On the bright side I'm so excited to finally introduce the twins (well technically they were introduced in the last chapter, but they didn't get a lot of screen-time then)!

Thank you for reading!