Chapter 11

He had prayed that it would not be himself who had the vision of the escorts' slaughter, but even more had he prayed that it would not be Elrond who had to see the torture of his wife and the slaughter of his men. Yet none of this prayers were answered.Though while Elrond fell unconscious he was able to shake the disturbing, cruel and painful pictures off as he had seen them before. Soft hands caressed his face as he was able to clear his vision.

"What did you see, Carnil? What did you and ada see?"

Not answering her question Carnil stood slowly up: "I need a horse Arwen, I have to leave as soon as possible…"

Even before he had been able to take one step towards the door Elladan's voice stopped him. Harsher than he had ever before heard his friend speak:

"You will go nowhere as long as you have not told us what you have seen! Ada was always fine after a vision so what did this vision show you and why did both of you receive it?"

For a faint moment Carnil felt fear as he turned to look at his friend. He will revenge Celebrian, he will revenge his mother. – Just like my father revenged my mother. Who will Elladan kill to get his revenge? It will not be his brother or sister or aunt Galadriel or uncle Celeborn…but myself? I am nothing to him and he knows that I had a vision not soon after I came here, what will it take him to realise that it was the same vision?

Trying to clear his head from those dreadful thoughts Carnil shook his head. His own voice was soft and barely audiable as he answered his cousin's oldest child.

"Your mothers travelling-company was surprised by a host of orcs, all but her were slaughtered and Celebrian…" he was not able to carry on, only Arwen's fearful gasp made him continue, "Your mother was captured."

Glorfindel was the first who acted at those words, nodding towards the youngest prince of Mirkwood he left the room to ready a horse for him.

"You know where nana is?" it was not a question, not even a statement –no, to his ears it was an accusation filled with loathing, hate even.

"No, I do not know - but I know that I can find her … and that your father can not leave this valley if he is to live!" Not waiting for anyone to speak he left the room, heading first to the halls of healing before he hurried to his own room. He could not go without his weapons and while he would not, could not take Acharn with him he had enough knifes to use.


Even before he had felt Elladan and Elrohir behind him had he known that this would be the last time for a very long while, forever maybe that they would ride or do something together. They would hate him, fear him but most of all blame him. And yet he could almost understand them. How could he not? He had seen, felt, endured that hate before – and like then he felt that somehow he was justly blamed. He had known what would befall Celebrian should she not remain within the beautiful valley her husband had created – and while he had not known that his mother would die giving birth to him, it had been his birth that caused her death.


Neither Elladan nor Elrohir knew any longer what they should make of their friend. When they had first met them in Gondor they had known that it would be the right thing to do, to invite him to accompany them back to Imladris. They had felt that they could trust him, had known that he wouldn't betray their trust. Yet the longer the they knew him, no, not the longer they knew him but as soon as they got to know him they noticed that he was not whom they believed him to be. He was not like any other elf they knew and yet all except for them seemed to accept that without any questions. Nearly from the moment their parents and Lord Glorfindel had met their guest had they started to treat him like family. Even their grandfather behaved as if he knew the stranger – or at least knew who he was, while they knew almost nothing of their guest. They could not say that they disliked Carnil or even what about him it was that alienated them; it was just that they both knew that he was hiding something from them. In the past they had chosen to ignore their doubts but now, now that their mothers life was in grave danger did they believe that it had been wrong to ignore these feelings. The way Carnil acted made it clear to them that he knew more about their mother plight than he let on. Could he maybe even have prevented their mothers fate?

They hardly stopped on their way through the wilderness, all three of them knowing that they had not a moment to loose on their search but also that they had no idea where they should look. Already a week had passed since they had left Imladris before they came upon the corpses of the guard. Each of the slaughtered was known to them, to the twins more so than to Carnil, and even though it took precious time away from their search could they not leave their friends unburied. After they had found the place of the battle it was easy to follow the trail the orcs had left, wincing each time they spotted the silver red blood that stemmed from Celebrian, giving them silent testament of her wounds.


It wasn't hard for him to fall back in old routines, searching for, hunting his prey. He felt the need for revenge, the need to see the blood of those that caused him this pain to be spilled. Twice before had he felt this need, twice before had he given into this desire. The first time on the slopes of Orodruin when he saw his grandfather, the only real connection he had to his family, fall; and the second time when he had become an assassin. For more than twenty years had he sought out the murderers of the stewards daughter in law, had felt the need to hurt them, to torture them and to finally kill them. All because they had dared to try to harm an innocent infant. Now though… now he was hunting for those who dared to come after his family. Celebrian was more for him than only a cousin, she was the sister he never had but even more so the mother he longed for. He knew that even if, no when, they found her she would be lost to him, her family and Arda. She would no longer be able to remain, her only choice being between the Halls of Mandos and Valinor. What would be the better choice? Where would she find more peace? He knew that most first born feared the Namos' domain, yet he could not help to long for the peace he had felt during the short time he had been allowed to dwell there. After the panic, the pain his fathers actions had caused him he had be comforted by the calm that he felt it that place. Even though he had not seen much of the resting place as his infant self had not been able to, and had in fact not had the desire to, look around or anywhere else than the person who held his body or rather his soul. For all the years that had passed since than, for all the times he had dwelled on it, he could still not recall Namos face. Knowing only that in those short moments he had loved him the same way he had before his murder loved his father.

Although he longed for a place in the Halls of Mandos he was almost certain that Celebrian wouldn't be able to find the same peace he had found there. She had experienced life, happiness and knew what she would be leaving behind, while he had not really lived by the time he found himself there.


# All the way back to Imladris I have felt their hateful glances, their fury – but also their pain. Nothing, nothing I had seen in my visions could have prepared me for actually finding Celebrian tortured almost beyond recognition. How could I allow her sons to see her in such a state when even I, who had seen one of the most gruesome battles, flinched at the mere sight? How could I explain to them that the only reason why their mother allowed me to touch her, to hold her, was because she did not recognise me, didn't see me as myself but as my mother? Would they have believed me if I had told them at that time that she was my cousin, told them at such a time, a century after we had met, that we were family? I know that I wouldn't have believed them, know that it would have fuelled my fury and hate. I know now that my days in the sanctuary of Imladris have come to an end. No longer can I call this village my home, no longer do I find peace within its boundaries.

Neither Elrond nor Arwen blame me for Celebrians fate, both knowing that I could have done nothing to prevent it.

As so often these days I sit besides Celebrian in one of Imladris vast gardens. She is sleeping, her eyes closed, her brow furrowed in remembered pain. Elrond sits on her other side, stoking her hair and cherishing every moment he has left with his wife. Not for the first time I feel like an intruder, disturbing their small nest of comfort but I dare not to leave. Once, shortly after we brought Celebrian home, Elrond called me to their rooms, confining that his wife rested more peaceful when I was present. We know both that it is not me she sees in those moments but her beloved aunt, that she is only able to tolerate my presence because in her sleep-fogged mind I become one who often cared for her during her childhood. I can not find joy in those moments in which I am her only comfort, always felling, knowing that even then she fears to be hurt. Both of her sons envy me for those moments, I can understand their feelings, knowing all to well how it is to yearn for a touch from your parents, knowing that others receive it while you don't. Yet at the same time I feel that it would be even more painful for them to fell their mother tremble under your touch, fearing that each hug, each casually placed hand on her arm will be raised to strike her. #

Soundlessly Legolas closed his journal and stared for moments ahead. He no longer saw the beauty of Imladris, a beauty that was still present even though many of the trees had lost their leaves even though it was still summer. For him, for every occupant of Imladris, its beauty had faded the moment its Lord had the vision of his wife being tortured.

"Celebrian will take the second to last ship that leaves before the winter."

He did not turn around as he heard Elronds words, there was nothing for him to say, nothing he could do to take the pain away that the older elf felt.