Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters and sceneries belongs to JRR Tolkien.
CHAPTER XXVI - THE LAST THORNS – Part I
But the silence is not golden: it is crystal;
crystal dome, this imposed silence.
David Mourao-Ferreira, in "Summer Storm"
Rivendell in the west of the Mountains; it was what some had called this place since its founding in the year 1697 of the Second Age, and had been one of the many stops on the journeys of a wandering elf lord in times of tough battles that had seemed to have no end.
Elrond gazed toward his destination with a heart full of different emotions. He remembered having been forced to abandon many different places which stirred his spirit for many reasons, all very urgent, all very serious, involving the fate of everyone connected with him. However, when he found refuge and protection for his friends in this valley, he never imagined that fate would lead him to consider abandoning it for any reason, especially the one which had ultimately made him leave the land without thought of ever returning.
He lowered his eyes to his right hand, which gently rested on the mane of his dark horse, and his concentration brought to life another image of the past: The Sapphire of Vilya, the ring of air. Its bluish glow seemed to brighten, as if to remind him that there would be other battles, perhaps as serious as the one that forced his people to take refuge in the valley long ago. Bigger battles, perhaps the most important battles yet; battles in which maybe all individual problems could be solved.
Elrond took a deep breath, holding his son's hand against his side. Elrohir had asked to sit behind his father, once he noticed that they were very near Imladris. The reason had not been clear, but Elrond suspected that perhaps it was because the child did not want to show his state of weakness, coming back to his land in his father's arms, as he had been for nearly the entire trip.
Elrohir returned the grip, his face leaning upon the healer's back with his eyes closed. He had been longing to return, but now he recognized the only trail marked with the familiar white stones, those that showed the way to his home, which now, over time, had been enveloped with moss and heather. That was the way to Rivendell, and he began to feel an uncontrollable fear of returning there.
The feeling was not better when the sound of the rushing water met his ears, seeming like a warning that there was little time to maybe change his mind, to perhaps give up that dream. He shuddered at the sound of those powerful waters and Elrond strengthened his grip on the hand that he had not stopped holding in his own.
"Are you sure you do not want to ride in front of me, ion-nîn?" Elrond asked again, worried. But in response Elrohir only leaned his face harder against his father's back, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly in a negative the healer could feel. Elrond sighed resignedly, but glanced questioningly at his wife, who was riding at his side, and who could now see the situation better than he. Celebrian just nodded, implying that the child seemed well.
"Our land smells good, isn't that true, ionath-nîn?" she said in her sweet voice, and that simple observation seemed to release the fragrance of trees and creeping flowers, which were spreading their aroma in the air. Elrohir opened his eyes in time to see the light of the setting sun on the slope of the valley on the other side of the river.
He sat up a little straighter, because in addition to that, he saw something more.
A group of elves waited for them there, before the steep downward path that would take them to the city in the valley. Probably the sentries had warned them about the arrival of the leaders and someone sent an escort to give any assistance on their final path.
Yes. Maybe someone had sent an escort, was the twin's thought, before recognizing the elf who waited solemnly at the front of the group.
No. Someone had brought the escort.
Elrond also recognized his blond friend quickly, even with the heavy hooded cloak that hid his face in unknown shadows. Glorfindel, however, did not seem to actually want to hide himself, so as soon as he saw the group, he threw back his hood, and his golden hair, bright as the sunset of the evening, heralded the light of the journey's end.
There was, however, dead seriousness on his friend's face, and Elrond knew very well what had awakened it, so he moved ahead a bit and allowed his hood to fall away from his face, so that he could be seen by the group that awaited him.
His gaze was so focused on his friend, he barely noticed one of the other members on a horse beside the blond elf's. Only when he got closer, the voice of Gaellon emerged, making the healer become aware of his presence.
"Mae Govannen, Elrond," he said, without any excessive formality, as was his habit. Gaellon was one of the elves from Gil-galad's army who remained in Imladris, but whose heart never lost the yearning for great battles. He was the only one on the council to oppose Elrohir's condemnation, but as he was the more reckless and less prudent of all the members of the group, his opinion did not carry much merit.
Elrond moved his eyes to the dark-haired elf slowly. Although he was pleased to see him, he knew what it meant: that the Council had given him this role, choosing him precisely, and Elrond regrettably realized he would not have an opportunity to talk to Glorfindel before reaching the city. There was so much to say to his blond friend, so many justifications to make to him, so many apologies to give, and the postponement of this matter, which he considered the most vital, was bothering him to the extreme.
"Gaellon," he returned the greeting, placing his hand over his heart. "I'm glad to see you are waiting for us. May I assume the news is true, or am I mistaken?"
"You presume correctly, mellon-nîn. It's the least we can do, to ensure that you and your family make a safe return, even if only in these few final steps. Actually we were not informed of your return; otherwise we would have met you sooner, before you'd come all this way."
Elrond breathed out, then in again, just to have the sensation of doing something normal. Elbereth, they were all so stunned that they had forgotten the first rule of diplomacy, and had not sent word of their pending return. But in his heart he felt as if he was just coming back home, as he had done several times, and it hadn't occurred to him that this was a different situation.
"I apologize for the rudeness, Gaellon."
The other elf started to answer, but Glorfindel straightened his back, and after dropping a sarcastic laugh, said, "If I were in your place I would hold off with that word. You will hear so many apologies when you come into your land that you will certainly want to spend some time without hearing it at all," he said, and a strong "indeed" coming from Gaellon reinforced the blond warrior's observation.
Both, Glorfindel's strict formality and his cold tone, as well as the information itself, made Elrond frown, confirming his fears that his friend was possibly very hurt. He kept his eyes on the blond warrior after the other's comment, but the elf did not return his gaze, merely keeping his feelings hidden in a distant, impassive face.
"You know that the council does not owe us an apology," Elrond said, continuing to object. His advisers were all good elves, whose behavior had been flawless so far. They only followed the very rules they themselves established. "If what my father-in-law has told me is true, the counselors' decision was that the whole situation has been forgotten, and it has been agreed to characterize it as a string of unfortunate incidents."
Gaellon kept the smile of satisfaction on his face. He seemed very happy to have been the only one who had objected to the entire nonsensical situation, and with extreme pleasure he now savored every moment of the fall of those diplomats who were so afraid of their own shadows that they let common sense fail them.
However, the next comment came from Glorfindel, too.
"I think it would not be altogether unproductive to let the arrogant intellectuals of our land lower their heads slightly and admit their mistakes. It will do well for their spirits. If not, at least it'll do well for ours," he said, still without looking at the newcomers. There was so much conflict and stiffness in his whole being that Elrond could almost see it in the lines of the elf's face. He was just not sure if the targets of his anger were indeed those of which the blonde warrior wanted to make the group believe.
Surely they were not...
Glorfindel let his gaze slip toward his Imladris friend again, as if trying to read the silence that followed his comment, but soon his attention had moved purposely toward another place, as he carefully avoided Elrond's eyes.
Celebrian, however, had already laughed softly before Glorfindel's observation, and it made Elrond hold his impulse to object again. He looked at his wife and oldest son on the horse beside him for a moment longer, remembering that their tiring journey would not allow them to waste important moments in a conversation such as this.
"I think we should continue on," he said, and his remark sounded like an order for the group before them to move their horses and give way to the family. Elrond observed the silent shift, then nodded to his wife, who put her horse in motion, beside him.
Only then, as he passed each of the elves that accompanied the escort, did he realize the reason for their promptness in moving aside. There was an almost undisguised smile illuminating every face he saw. Actually all those elves seemed relieved to see their leader back. Elrond was moved by the glances he received, and sought to repay them with the same affection. He'd known some of these elves for many years; others were young ones, whom he himself had helped to see the stars for the first time. They murmured a 'Welcome, sir', or 'We missed you, Lord Elrond', as they realized their leader was looking at them, and their faces glowed even more when they received a smile back from the elf lord, accompanied by words of thanks.
Only Glorfindel said nothing.
However, surreptitiously, the blond lord moved his head slightly, as he saw the horses of the Lord of Rivendell's family pass him. His goal was obvious and even expected by anyone who knew him well. He wanted to learn about the ones he had not yet seen. Elrohir did not even lift his face to look at his mentor, keeping it against his father's back. Elladan darted a worried glance at the master as soon as he passed him.
If Glorfindel wanted to hide behind an air of austerity and disappointment, to make clear to the family how resentful he was for what they had done without consulting him, he was fortunate in the way that things played out. None of the others saw him return his pupil's gaze, nor did they notice as his lips curved up in a small smile.
Elrohir didn't share his brother's courage at that moment, so he did not reopen his eyes again. He no longer wanted to be wrapped in unwanted thoughts or to dwell on scenes filled with tension. He did not want to know how his master would look at him; he did not want to know how he would be received in Rivendell. All he wanted to do was lean against his father's back, while their horse walked the steep trail, traveling ever downward, continuing to follow the path as it crossed back on itself, leading them into the secret valley of Rivendell. The heat and warmth emanating from the place, accompanied by the smell of the pines, began to steal his lucidity, and he again found himself in an unexpected struggle to stay awake.
Imladris was the land of healing. Many said that. Elrohir did not want to sleep, but still did not have control over his little recovered energy. Then he realized he was in his grandfather's arms again. Celeborn had watched him falter and had rescued him, before he could surprise his father by falling from their horse.
"Go back to sleep, Astalder," he heard his grandfather say, and he felt his father's voice reinforce this advice. "Do not worry. Your land will be waiting for you when you're fully recovered."
Elrohir thought to resist, but the last thing he saw was the worried look Glorfindel directed at him, when he'd tried to reopen his eyes. Then everything came down to a darkness again, but a more pleasant one this time; a dark flavor tempered by trees and green grass, the sound of the wind in the oaks and beeches, and the pleasant sensation of the twilight. However, beyond all these, the last thing that he was aware of before the heavy sleep invaded his mind was the very special sound of the rapid and slightly noisy river flowing through their land.
Elrond was surprised when their actual reception turned out exactly how Gaellon had promised it would. It seemed as if his arrival aroused more happiness than he could have imagined. Patiently he accepted the greetings of all, entreated flared tempers, appreciated the apologies, heard the songs.
Celeborn and Celebrian, however, took the first opportunity they could and slipped quietly with the twins into the house. The elf lord, realizing his son-in-law would not escape his diplomatic role so early, offered to help his daughter ensure that his grandchildren would be fed and gotten to bed. There was plenty of time for them to deal with the emotion that longing for their land had caused them, so that they need not endure the complete bedlam that had settled in the main courtyard. Now they needed to rest.
It took some time before Elrond could do the same, when he was finally past the crowd and had reached the door. Once inside, he saw two people with whom he needed to talk before his spirit could have any rest. Still standing on the grand staircase entrance, he made a subtle signal to Erestor, who had stayed silent in a corner of the courtyard, receiving only a brief greeting, but also seeming unwilling to wait for Elrond's explanation. Elrond started to fear that his friend would simply pretend not to have understood his gesture. But he would not be Erestor if he did that; that's why the healer felt the apprehension in his chest reduce at least a little when he saw the counselor take Glorfindel's arm with his right hand and bring the killer of the Balrog with him, even enduring the ancient elf's visible objection.
They were at least willing to talk. That was something, Elrond thought. He could feel his fatigue almost overwhelming him, as he watched his friends walking toward him.
When they were finally able to be alone in the office of the Lord of Rivendell, Elrond stepped forward and stopped for a moment at the window. When he heard the door close, he realized that his opportunity had arrived to face his friends and clarify the details of the story that before now had been ignored.
Why was this so difficult, he wondered, as he held onto the casement beside the door of his office. For the first time, the image of the garden did not bring him the peace he needed, and he suddenly felt discouraged as he turned and looked at the two elves, who stood waiting just inside the door.
Now that he was protected again by the graces of his city, the healer began to feel the weight of his body, the weight of the trip, the weight of the dangers, the weight of loss. So when he finally turned to the two elves, seeking something diplomatic to say, trying to find the right words that would bring his friends, visibly disappointed and hurt by him, to his side again, the words escaped him and their images swam before his eyes. When he realized this, he found himself only babbling an, 'Excuse me, please, Mellyn-nin,' as he covered his face with both hands.
Elbereth, it was so hard to believe that he had to pass through this last hurdle and was virtually powerless to do so. And the search, almost desperate for the lost strength, for the right words, the right attitudes, seemed to cloud his mind. That urgency stole the wisdom he knew he needed to have to convince his friends to forgive him, and instilled a state of agony in his heart that he had not expected to feel so soon.
What occurred after that, fortunately, was not what the healer had feared would happen, and it showed him with certainty that some ills heal much faster than others. Soon there were hands holding him and the voices of the two elves did not sound as severe as he had expected them to.
"Sit here, Elrond." Erestor helped him to the couch.
"Drink this." Glorfindel put a glass of wine in his hand.
"You are tired. That's all. You have barely been home and have had to face this whole mess," Erestor assured, his hand on Elrond's shoulder.
"You should have sent those fools and their apologies away. You're too nice to those worthless advisers," Glorfindel said, and Elrond felt the warrior's hand on his knee.
Elrond kept his eyes closed for a few moments longer, letting himself feel his friends' presence. He was really a lucky elf, he thought. He could hardly believe his good fortune. When he finally raised his eyelids, he found Erestor sitting beside him, the counselor's hand still placed protectively on his shoulder. Crouching in front of him, Glorfindel looked at him with concern, holding onto one of his knees.
He looked at them alternately, searching for traces of sadness or sorrow in their faces, but now finding only concern.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, mellyn-nîn. It all happened very quickly. I did not know if involving you would have been wise..."
The elves had similar reactions, which was unusual for those two, who disagreed with each other on nine out of ten subjects they ever discussed. Both tightened their lips, looking genuinely troubled not only by Elrond's tone, but also the healer's general condition. In fact they knew very little of what he had been through.
Given their silence then, Elrond became worried again, and he clenched his jaws closed. He could already feel his breathing quicken, even before he addressed the impasse at which he found himself with his two friends. He knew he would not have peace until they had this discussion.
"Drink your wine," Glorfindel simply said, rising and moving away. Elrond followed his movement, uneasy again, but he satisfied himself by realizing that the blond elf had risen to simply reach out and drag a chair noisily toward them, so that he could sit in front of the healer now. Once settled, Glorfindel took a deep breath, resting his hands on his legs and turning to look at his friend. "How is he? What about the journey? Did he really do all the things Círdan said in his letter?"
Elrond fell silent before the unexpected questioning, but then realized what Glorfindel sought to hide, along with all its meanings. The twins had always been his best disciples, but Elrohir was the "apple of his master's eye". So when Elrond continued staring at him without saying anything, a furtive smile escaped from the blonde warrior's lips, as one who is tired of wearing a mask and decides to take it off instead.
"Come on, Elrond. Tell us just what that troublesome little creature of yours was able to do before I explode from curiosity," he then said and gave an informal laugh that everyone knew, and that seemed to be better than any medicine or night's sleep for the Lord of Imladris.
Elrond smiled, but didn't tell his two friends too much about Elrohir's feats. He himself still didn't know all the details of his son's adventure. He wouldn't admit it, but in fact he hadn't been able to think about it until that day. The three elven lords just talked a little and Elrond tried to lead the conversation to more basic issues until his friends sensed that the healer was almost completely spent. They were worried about him, so they didn't push him harder. Erestor and Glorfindel just looked at each other silently, but did not say a thing, leaving Elrond with warm words, assuring him that all was well with them.
Elrond noticed his friends' good intentions and in his heart he thanked them for being who they were. He was back in his Last Homely House, he thought, considering then about the name he'd given to his home. The Last Homely House, he mentally repeated, feeling his heart ease as it had not in a very long while, knowing that it was the perfect name for his sanctuary.
When Glorfindel and the twins arrived at the training camp one afternoon, the other boys of the group did not hide their surprise. It had been nearly a moon since the brothers' return and this was the first time they had been seen outside of the big house.
The pupils looked at each other, and they had many questions they wanted to ask, as well as many stories whose truth they wanted to confirm. However, the look their master launched at them was more than enough of a warning of what they could or could not say. Since the ruler's family's return, the mentor had cautioned his students about what they might or might not be questioning the two brothers about, especially Elrohir, whose journey had been the most arduous.
So they held themselves in check, and confined themselves to greeting their friends, whom they had sorely missed. The twins also seemed happy to return to training, although no one truly understood why they yet kept their strange vow of silence.
Wooden swords, informal banter, laughter; it was what composed the end of that mild winter afternoon. Elladan got tired of training with the sword and grabbed his little bow, distancing himself and starting to send his arrows to a target placed on one of the pillars of the far field. Soon Glorfindel stood beside him, offering some instruction.
Meanwhile Elrohir was using a training sword to exchange blows with a group of elves. The younger twin always approached even the more informal of those trainings with utmost seriousness, though he did not let it show. In fact he would rather duel with older elves, those who had left the wooden swords for a while, and only appeared to help their master in training the younger students, but Glorfindel hadn't allowed them to fight against the little ones today. Elrohir was annoyed with that fact, because he saw in it a clear protective maneuver he deemed unnecessary and inconvenient.
However, when he knocked away the sword that was in the hands of the third friend who was willing to face him, and accomplished the deed in record time, the atmosphere, which had so far been mild, turned a little gray.
"Hmm, our sailor came back with a lot of energy," joked one of the older students, realizing that Elrohir's opponent was flushed and breathing heavily with the rapid action of the Lord of Rivendell's son.
"Angahor." Glorfindel's call warned of where he was, and the young elf swallowed his playfulness before the reproachful tone of the master. Beinion, however, another older student, who closely followed Elrohir's performance, stayed there when the other veterans left the place of training to receive Glorfindel's instructions in the adjacent field.
"Come on, Elrohir," he teased, raising one of the wooden swords. "Just a quick fight while Glorfindel is distracted." They had not parted friends the last time the twin beat him in training camp, and the fact that he'd lost his last fight to Elladan, thinking he was Elrohir, had not appeased the feeling of enmity between them.
The twin's dark eyes moved toward Beinion, and then Elrohir carefully checked the mentor's distance, recognizing at the very moment that they'd been said that Beinion's words were meant to provoke him. Rather than back down, however, as would have been wise, he accepted the challenge, approaching the older elf now with sword raised.
They looked at each other for a short moment, but before the first blow, Beinion made use of the distance from their master to make a small provocation.
"Let's see if you fight better now than you did with the sword you stole, little boy."
Everything then happened quickly and before Elrohir could figure out why, the same damn picture was again in his mind. The man in the swamp, the insults he used, that voice...
"You disgraceful little boy!"
"Beinion!"
"I did nothing. I did nothing," shouted the elf, already kneeling beside his fallen opponent. Glorfindel did not wait for any excuse, grasping Beinion by the shoulders and almost throwing him aside. Elladan was already close to his brother, holding his hand and placing the other on his chest. "Let me see him, Elladan."
Elladan let his brother's hand drop, but did not move away, while Glorfindel cautiously rested his palm on Elrohir's face, on which now began to emerge a huge welt over the cut that Beinion's sword had made. Even with it being wooden, the sword had damaged the twin's white skin. The wound luckily had not caught the boy's eye, landing a little beside it and ending just below the corner of Elrohir's lips.
"He did not guard himself," Beinion said innocently, already standing behind his master. "I do not know why."
"I said the veterans would not fight with the younger ones today. Am I speaking in some orc dialect?" Glorfindel asked, irritated. Then he paid no more attention to the other justifications that had followed the first, his concentration being focused on the pair of eyes that were opening again, already showing an undeniable expression of pain.
"Slow down, elfling," he warned, when Elrohir, realizing where he was, sat up quickly. "Come on, let me see it," he said, trying to hold the young elf's face to better analyze the wound.
But Elrohir dodged him, as if he did not want to be touched anymore. His eyes were still somewhat confused. He looked around and when he found Elladan, he focused on him instantly. The older twin understood the silent request that only he could hear, so he helped his brother to rise.
Glorfindel followed the movement, very uncomfortable. He felt that since the child's return, Elrohir had not been treating him in the same way. He was distant and elusive and that was unnerving to the blond elf.
"At least allow your father to see the wound. You are not yet recovered well and here you are already injured again. He will not like hearing of this," he said when he saw the brothers move away without any request for permission or gesture of farewell. "Elrohir," he finally called, dissatisfied with the brothers' undisciplined attitude in front of the other pupils. It was true that they had been through a lot, but they had to relearn how to fill their seats if they still wanted to occupy them. The elflings stopped, but only Elladan turned to his mentor, which satisfied the blond warrior even less. He then looked to the older twin, sighed and said in a warning tone, "I want you to take him to your father. Have I made myself clear, Elladan?" he asked. He got a quick nod in response before the two brothers continued their path toward the main house, the youngest clearly leaning on his brother for balance.
It was almost dinnertime when Glorfindel finally broke free from his duties and went in search of some rest and news. He had just passed through the main door of the big house when he met Elrond leaving the office with one of the council members. The counselor went away after a brief greeting to the blond warrior, who barely waited any time to ask his friend if they could go back inside.
"How is he?"
"Who?" Elrond asked.
"Elrohir."
"He is well," the dark-haired elf calmly replied, his attention fixed on a document in his hands. "We just received an updated map of the northern part of Ered Luin. Do you want to see it or can I pass it to Erestor?"
Glorfindel glanced quickly at the document, then took it from his friend's hand without actually seeming as if he wanted to grant any of his attention to it right now.
"Leave it with me. Tomorrow I'll give it to that bookworm," he said, and both friends exchanged a tired smile. "Do you think I can see him? Is he really fine?"
"Who, Elrohir?"
"Yes, Elrond." The blond elf became slightly perturbed. "I know that accidents happen in training camp, but they've just come back and..."
"Accidents?" Elrond frowned and then a disagreeable idea came to mind.
"Do not tell me Elladan didn't bring him to you?"
"Elladan didn't what?" Elrond leaned closer, already holding his friend's arm. "What happened?"
"I knew it!" Glorfindel exploded, walking angrily away. "And I told him exactly what to do. I tell one of them to not fight with the veterans and he did not seem to hear me, and then I tell the other where to go and he doesn't do that. I'll give up being their mentor if they continue to disobey me like this. I have to warn you in advance, Elrond, that I'll have to give them both a punishment. The worst thing is that no sooner had they arrived and..."
Elrond's face was of total incomprehension as he held his friend's arm again.
"Glorfindel, what happened in the training camp?"
Glorfindel interrupted his own complaints, focusing inward, as if he wanted to calm himself down. Then he dropped his shoulders, moving his face in a gesture of utter outrage. He also couldn't believe or accept his role in what had happened.
"I turned away for a moment to give the veterans' their instructions, and when I returned Beinion had overthrown Elrohir in a duel. It looked like he hit him in the face with a wooden sword. It did not seem serious, but Elrohir was unconscious, which worried me," he reported. "I told Elladan to bring him to you, but maybe your firstborn thinks he is already a healer himself,' he said, wisely adding that comment with a wry smile. He expected to imply to his friend that if the older twin hadn't followed the instructions he'd given, perhaps it was probably because the youngest was already well.
"I'll see to him," Elrond said, not waiting for any more explanation. He was trying to give the children some space now, avoiding excessive demonstration of concern, deferring questions and other inquiries that he knew one day he would have to ask. But this matter required his attention as a father. He had already started to walk away when he heard his blond friend's voice call after him before he reached the stairs.
"Elrond. I'm sorry," Glorfindel said, visibly annoyed by the fact that the incident had happened when the boys were in his care. "I really was not paying attention to the boys' intentions. If I had realized…"
"What nonsense!" Elrond made a brief motion with his right hand to emphasize his words. "These things happen. It was not the first time, nor will it be the last."
"First time for what? The first time for Elrohir to get hurt on the field, or for your children to disobey my orders?" Glorfindel tried to play, feeling that his friend's conciliatory words were more to make him feel better than to represent a father's supposed indifference.
Elrond grinned in an unconvincing way.
"Well... the first option, I think. Because I count on you to give them the punishments they deserve. Recovered or not, they have to learn to accept the decisions of those who are responsible for them, to obey orders, or we would not be preparing them as we should."
Glorfindel understood the gravity of those words, but also was satisfied by what he read in their meanings. It was good to know that his friend had such confidence in him.
When Elrond entered the room, he found Elladan sitting on his bed next to his brother's. The windows were closed and only the glow of a lantern lightened the place at all. Elrohir was lying on his side and did not move. The healer looked at his firstborn for a moment, then came in quietly. The older twin followed his father's footsteps with watchful eyes.
Elrond said nothing; he just walked around the bed and bent slightly to look at the youngest twin's face. Elrohir's eyes were closed, and he seemed to sleep. The wound the mentor had mentioned had become quite a dark and apparent welt, even with the medicament on it. Elrond recognized the exact choice of herbs that his eldest son had used, and that took away some of his concern. Elrohir opened his eyes when he felt his father's presence, but then closed them again. He seemed displeased that Elrond had discovered what had happened to him.
The healer kept looking at the youngest for a while, then turned to his firstborn.
"Why did you not bring him to me as your mentor instructed you to do?" he asked in a whisper, sitting on Elrohir's bed and placing a palm carefully over the younger twin's face to better feel the extent of the injury.
Elladan pressed his jaws closed, then lifted his chin toward his brother and the answer became clear to his father.
"You cannot allow patients to determine what is best for them, Elladan," Elrond said in warning to him. He knew there was no gravity in what had happened this time, but he needed to make the child remember this lesson.
The twin nodded resignedly, as his father had expected him to, and then he rested his hand on his chest in apology. Elrond felt sorry for his children, and he did not want to see them saddened. They had barely returned to their routines and had already been involved in a confrontation. It was a pity.
"Today you both dine in your room. Tomorrow you will also stay here," he dictated, feeling his heart sinking because of the need for this punishment.
All the firstborn did was to nod his head again, without raising his eyes. Elrohir, however, did not move, keeping his eyes closed as if asleep. Elrond looked at him again, then went to a knee on the mattress where Elladan sat and reached out to hold his son's chin to make him look at him.
"How would it be if your brother was hurt while on a patrol and decided he did not want your care as a healer? Would you do what he wished?" he asked, and when Elladan indignantly shook his head, more vehemently now, Elrond had to suppress a smile. He knew deep down that Elladan had not brought his brother to their father's presence because he had full knowledge of the severity of the cut; otherwise he would have done that. However, it did not cost anything to remind his son once again of the fact that his attitude was far from being an acceptable one, considering that such a decision was not up to him. He had been given specific orders.
"That's good. Then tomorrow you will write down all the reasons why you cannot let injuries by swords go without due attention, even judging them without apparent severity. In the late afternoon I will have your report on my desk. Understood?"
This time Elladan was not as receptive to his father's reprimand; actually it was very hard for him to disguise the frustration that this useless task awakened in him. Elbereth, his father could be severe when he needed to. He just pursed his lips, showing his upset, but with Elrond's eyes still fixed on him and still waiting for his answer, he merely nodded his head forcefully in agreement.
Elrond observed the child's face for a moment, then checked Elrohir's wound again, taking the opportunity to run his hand lightly over his son's cheek, trying to feel more than what he could already see. Being hit in the face and knocked out meant being with guard fully retracted. That did not make much sense for a learner as cautious as his youngest was.
"You will receive a punishment from your master, Elrohir," he said, trying to use a stern tone, despite the sad scene he saw. "You know that you must obey him, don't you? Is it very difficult for you to remember that? Shall I ask another warrior to instruct you?"
Elrohir opened his eyes that instant. Finally something seemed to have called his attention.
"Do you want me to appoint another instructor to you instead of Glorfindel?" he asked, repeating the question, trying to keep the same tone of voice that he had been using, even while noting the paleness of the boy's face. "There are other brave warriors who, perhaps, you may judge easier to obey than Glorfindel, even though he has known you since you were a baby."
He was not playing a very fair game, Elrond knew well. He would never put this threat into practice, but he needed to count on the weapons he had, so when Elrohir hastened to rise up on one elbow and shake his head negatively, resting his hand on his chest in an apology identical to his brother's, Elrond was satisfied.
"Well. Perhaps you might remember this the next time you get a clear instruction from him, Elrohir. To help you recall such things in the future, tomorrow I will have on my desk a copy of The Warrior's Ethic Code. Complete and legible," he added, and this time it was much more difficult to swallow the laughter, which the air of utter annoyance that appeared on his son's face tried to steal from him. So he hastened to end his visit with a quick 'So be it' in his best father's tone and left the room, where he would have the freedom to laugh if he wished to.
When the door closed, however, the air of discontent on the brothers' faces worsened, as if, now alone again, they had been reminded of the reason for this whole situation. Elrohir sat down embracing his legs and resting his head on his knees, and Elladan went to his brother's bed putting his arm around Elrohir's shoulders.
"You should tell him what happened, Ro," he tried to advise. "He thinks everything is fine."
"Everything is fine."
"It is not. You cannot sleep. You have had these terrible nightmares every night since we arrived home."
"I will not tell him anything."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to talk about it."
"You think he'll tell Glorfindel what happened to you, don't you? So you do not want to tell ada."
Elrohir's face hardened with that comment, but then he shook his head.
"It will pass," he said. "A person can't keep dreaming of the same thing eternally."
"And if it does not pass? And if something happens again like what happened today?"
"Nothing is going to happen. That idiot Beinion distracted me. I'm not thinking about it all the time. It was because of what he said ... He..."
"What did he say?"
"He said… He called me... by something... that... man had called me, too..."
It was not worth repeating. It was not worth thinking about. That's what Elrohir thought and stopped himself from finishing the sentence, but the tremor that shook his body seemed to contradict what he wanted to preach as truth to his brother, so Elladan embraced him a little tighter. Elrohir leaned his head on his brother's shoulder and sighed.
"You cannot let his teasing bother you anymore. You know Beinion; he does not play fair. He has not liked you since that day when you tripped him in front of the entire group of veterans."
"It will be better for him to not attempt to provoke me again. This mark he gave me will be nothing near what I will do to his stupid face if he tries it again."
"Great. I think I'm going to start taking my first aid bag to the training camp."
Elrohir looked down at his twin's sudden sarcasm.
"I'm sorry, Dan"
"For what?"
"You were punished because of me. You will have to stay here…"
The twin sighed, but then shrugged.
"Nah, what's the fun in being able to go out if you cannot?"
Elrohir smiled.
"Yes... but having to write all those things for ada..."
Elladan couldn't help a grimace.
"Do not remind me. The worst part is that he always chooses something I do not know by heart. I'll have to ask him to let me go to the library to get that yellow book ... It's a long, long text... If I remember well…"
Elrohir smiled sadly. He was feeling like the worst brother in the world.
"But 'The Warrior's Ethic Code' is not the shortest," Elladan said drolly, twisting his head around to look at the younger twin. "Do you know it by heart or do you want me to grab a copy for you tomorrow when I go to the library?"
Elrohir didn't answer for a moment, but soon his shoulders fell and he let his head drop back onto his knees, realizing his brother's words meaning better than he would like to.
"Damn it..."
I'd like to say thanks again to all reviewers for chapter 25. It is really kind of you leaving a comment. Thank you so much:Gwedhiel0117, eliza61, She Elf of HiddenLore, DreamingIn2Eternity, world-classgeek, Evereven, Sivan Shemesh, LalaithElerrina, Oleanne, GreyLynx,Lia Whyteleafe, HarmonySoundown.
I'd also liked to thanks driftingpurpose; sokkergurl and Wtiger5, for adding my story to their favorite list. Hope you continue reading and enjoying the chapters. Thanks again.
And many, many thanks to Puxinette, my wonderful beta and dear friend.