AN: The original outline for this story had it being an Adventure based crack-fic about the twins and Glorfindel getting up to unrealistic and amusing shenanigans in Aman. I've fully come to terms with the fact that as an author, I cannot write crack. I apologize to those who started this fic expecting jokes and fun times, I truly swear that was the original aim. This fic has officially become "Crack Played Straight." The humor tag has been removed, and the rest of this story is going to focus on the twins' adventure to return home.

Chapter 5

Elrohir was disoriented. He found himself in darkness, but it was familiar. Similar to the liminal spaces between the elven dream paths he often explored. This time however, he did not see the brightly branching pathways that would lead him into the dreams of others. Instead, there was only one path ahead of him.

Untroubled, he followed the silver road through the darkness, convinced that the purpose of the road would soon make itself clear.

As he walked, small lights began to twinkle into existence around him. They had the same feel as elven minds. Or rather, elven fëar. Yet, there were no dream paths leading out to them. They simply existed in the darkness. Elrohir felt as though he could reach out and touch any one of them.

On a whim, he took a small step off of the path, unafraid of the endless emptiness beneath him. He did not fall. He was suspended in the nothingness, and continued until he reached one of the lights. He reached out to touch the fëa, and felt a wave of darkness wash over him. Fear, loneliness, despair. Regret.

Elrohir released the fëa with a sad look on his small face. What could one elfling do in the face of such despair? He looked around himself, wondering if each of these fëar were trapped in the same darkness. He glanced at the pathway, still waiting for him. He did not want to leave these elves here, but something pulled him forward. He stepped back onto the path and continued forward, reaching out briefly to brush his fingers against each dormant fëa that rested near enough to the path in an attempt to instill some small comfort, some sense of closeness.

Soon, a bright light became visible at the end of the path. It drew Elrohir towards it, and he realized that although he had never seen it before, it felt quite familiar to him. He stepped forward into the light, and found himself standing in a Great Hall.

He looked around curiously. It was similar to the halls of Irmo. Perhaps that was why it had felt so familiar. Irmo often walked with Elrohir on his nightly journey through elven dreams, and had on occasion even brought Elrohir with him to his own Hall.

"You delayed." A voice spoke behind him. "I nearly thought you would not come."

Elrohir turned and looked up. And up, and up. The person who stood before him could only be a Vala, for Elrohir had only seen one like him before. The figure was pale, with dark clothing, and hair that seemed to blur and undulate. Elrohir could not quite decide if it was shining silver or dark as pitch. His eyes had quite the same effect.

Elrohir bowed briefly. "My Lord." He frowned. "You are not Irmo, but you have the same feel as him."

The figure raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You have met my brother?" He asked, as though this was new information to him. Elrohir had not realized there were things the Valar may not know.

Brother. "Námo then." Elrohir breathed, much more concerned than he had been a moment ago. "I am not in a dream, am I?" He asked, though it was clear it was quite rhetoric.

"No, my child." Namo stated sympathetically, taking his hand.

"What happened?" Elrohir asked, confused. "What could possibly have happened? I was at home, in Imladris."

"You fell." The Vala answered simply, moving away from the doorway. The elfling did not follow, pulling his hand free.

"Sorry, my Lord, but I can't go with you just yet. I'll wait here, if you don't mind."

Once again, the Lord of Mandos seemed taken aback. "Why do you wish to linger here?" He asked. "You are very small, and have endured very little. Surely, you are ready to leave this place?"

Elrohir blinked owlishly up at him. "Oh no, my Lord. I couldn't. I am a twin, you see." As though that would explain everything.

"That you may be," Námo answered. "But there is no reason to wait here. It may be many longyears yet before your brother follows you."

Elrohir clasped his hands behind his back, and chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I do not think it will be." He responded honestly. "But, even if it is, I still think I will wait." If it is alright with you he left conspicuously absent from his sentence. He spoke with all due respect, but his intent was clear. He would not be leaving with Námo alone.

The Vala's face twisted with something akin to pity, something akin to concern. He looked for a moment as though he intended to disagree, but at the last moment changed his mind. "Very well." He said instead, and in the next moment he was gone, as though he had never been there at all.

Elrohir sat down by the doorway, and began to hum a tune quietly to himself.

. . .

Nothing could have prepared them for the scene that awaited them. The quartet of elves emerged from the trees, moving slowly as though through a fog.

Nobody knew where to look first. The air around them was still, as though the forest itself was looking on in helpless horror.

Elrond broke the stillness by dismounting and crossing swiftly to where the small body of his son rested. In the stillness of death, he could not immediately discern which son he held. What kind of father did not even know which son he grieved as he held his lifeless body?

Galadriel followed after, leaping to the side of the golden warrior and dark advisor, while Celeborn swiftly appeared at his daughter's side, catching her as she nearly fell in a faint.

"Elrond." Galadriel's voice cut through the thick silence. "Erestor lives."

Elrond stood instantly, moving swiftly to her side. He held Elladan still in his arms, unable to let go. He knelt beside his law-mother, and witnessed firsthand the wounds which had ended Glorfindel's life. All of the clothing was stiff with dried blood, and it was clear that the elf had continued to bleed even after the final wound had rendered him too weak to continue, suffering until the end. Elrond could not comprehend what had happened.

Across from him, however, laid Erestor. The unshakable advisor had no signs of injury – though, neither had Elladan – but as Elrond reached for his wrist, he found Galadriel had been correct. Erestor, at least, still had a pulse. His breathing was shallow, but present. His eyes were glassy.

"Shock." Elrond stated woodenly, clearly putting forth effort to keep himself from falling into the same state. Elrond closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose. The tang of blood made it difficult to concentrate.

Galadriel stood. "Celeborn." She called. "Take Celebrían home. Send somebody to collect the body. Elrond and I will return with Elladan and Erestor." Her voice was stone cold, not from lack of emotion, but from an outpouring of it. All present were affected by the scene. All present had reason to love those now dead before them. Somebody needed to remain clear headed, and that task had fallen to her many enough times over the years. She could take it up once more.

Elrond nodded in agreement, though he seemed as if in a daze. He returned to himself as he felt his son's body being taken from his arms, and raised his eyes to meet his law-mother's.

"He is beyond your help now, Elrond. Erestor is not. Let me carry him." She soothed gently. With a grimace, Elrond finally released his grip and turned his attention to Erestor.

As Elrond helped raise Erestor to his feet, the elf's horror filled eyes cleared slightly, and his face paled as he looked upon his Lord. "Glorfindel." He croaked with a full body shudder, voice hoarse.

"We know." Elrond answered as he led Erestor to his horse, and raised the elf up onto it.

"No." Erestor answered, voice trembling. "No you-..." He trailed off uncomprehendingly, seeming to fade once more into the haze of shock.

"We can speak of this later." Elrond reassured him as he mounted behind the advisor, following Galadriel's example and refusing to think overmuch on the situation at present. There were pressing matters that needed to be attended to, Erestor among them.

Only after, could he allow himself to feel.