East Fort. March 26, SA 542.

ELROND EARENDILION knew it was unlikely, but when Erfaron walked in, the Half-elven knew it was hopeless.

"I am sorry, Elrond. There was nothing I could have done." Erfaron took the goblet of wine Elrond offered before taking a seat. "There were two Silmacil warriors watching him. You know I don't have any authority over them."

Elrond frowned. The Silmacil answered to no one except to the king and the few exclusive members of the Council.

"Didn't Lord Gilmagor dispatch all the Silmacils in the fort?" As far as Elrond knew there were five at the fort, two who came with Lord Gilmagor and three who came later, each from different directions.

Erfaron shook his head. "There were two with Thranduil. They wore an unmarked armor, but I recognized them. The two who arrived with Lord Gilmagor."

"Thoron and Baldor?"

Erfaron nodded.

The king was serious about taking Thranduil with him to the Grey Havens. He was not taking any chances. Elrond bit down a curse.

Erfaron pulled Elrond's hand away from his warrior braid, which the Half-elven wasn't aware he was pulling.

"You are going to lose all your hair in the front if you keep doing that whenever you get upset." Erfaron shook his head. With a sigh, the commander of the East Fort asked, "What are you going to do?"

"What can I do?"

"Lord Gilmagor is not here. Doesn't that mean you have his authority?"

Elrond shook his head. "He transferred his authority to Commander Gwendir. He will wait for us at the Grey Havens. I am ordered to sit back and assist only, to learn how this is being managed."

"Gilmagor is not taking any chances, is he? He knows you too well, my friend. That old fox."

Old fox, indeed. Before leaving, Gilmagor entrusted Thranduil to him.

You know him well, Elrond. Monitor him. You are the only one he may listen. I shall hold you accountable. Do not confuse the bond of friendship with your duty to the king. His Majesty relies on you.

Elrond got up, unable to sit. He pinched his forehead. He knew what his duty and the loyalty to the king demanded, but Thranduil's words would not leave him.

What if it was Elros? If it was you and it was Elros who was taken, would you be able to sit back and wait for news?

"How is he doing?"

"You know how he is. 'Help me or get out,'" Erfaron imitated Thranduil's voice, then shook his head before taking a sip of wine.

"Did he, at least, eat?" Elrond delivered the dishes the King's cook prepared instead of sending a servant. Gil-galad had included an entire bottle of his finest wine. But Thranduil had ignored them.

"Didn't touch a thing."

"That stupid Orc!" Elrond got up, unable to sit. "Why can't he be reasonable? We have our finest warriors on this. Why can't he trust them?"

"Calm down, Elrond. He is what he is. Turning into a dragon will change nothing." Erfaron got up. "I have to make my rounds. But know that even if we could let Thranduil slip out of that tower, there is no way he could escape the fort. We are at full alert. Not even a mouse can walk in or out of here. And with those two Silmacil there…" Erfaron shook his head. "Even if Thranduil evades them, he won't get far." Erfaron gulped down whatever was left in his goblet. "And you know I would do anything for him, after what he has done for me and Saldor. But I will not order a guard under my command to stand down or turn a blind eye. I don't mind losing my own commission, but I won't risk theirs."

"I know. And I won't ask you to. Nor would Thranduil want that."

Erfaron turned to go, then turned to look at Elrond again. "Thranduil will need a friendly face tonight. I doubt he will sleep. Let him know that we are doing everything we can. I sent out my finest scouts and trackers. They will find them. I know they will." With a nod, he was gone.

Elrond massaged his chest. The ache and the tightness in his heart worsened.

He looked out at the window that looked down the river, a flowing line of silver under the starlight. The night was deep and silent.

The pleading in Thranduil's eyes had struck Elrond more than it should because he could feel the turbulence of emotion Thranduil usually kept hidden. The Sinda was a house on fire. The tendrils of emotion emanating from him were like the wisps of smoke escaping from the tightly closed windows where Elrond could see the fires raging. The smoke was so thick, Elrond did not need his special senses to feel them.

He understood. Aron was brother to Thranduil. After the Sinda lost his own brother at Menegroth, Aron had filled that deep, gaping hole, darker than the pit of Angband, just as Thranduil did for Elros. Elrond knew how un-fillable that hole was, and what it took to fill it. He knew how deeper and wider that hole will become for the next person if there ever was a next person.

For the past four centuries, there was a bond of more than just friendship between him and Thranduil. Elrond considered Thranduil a brother, but he wasn't sure how Thranduil felt. The Sinda became more open and comfortable with him than before. Perhaps Elrond's glimpse into his past hurts had made Thranduil more comfortable with him, Elrond assumed. But Thranduil rarely talked about his past and never about what happened at Menegroth and at Sirion. And perhaps it was that unwillingness on the part of Thranduil that prevented Elrond from talking about Elros, even when he desperately wanted to do so.

Elrond yanked open the window to swallow the cool air of the Stirring. His heart ached and the feeling of loss he felt whenever he thought of Elros these days clove at him even more painfully this night.

What if it was Elros? Thranduil's bitter words rang out in Elrond's mind. If you have a chance to bring him back, wouldn't you do everything you could?

Yes, he would. But at what cost? Gil-galad deserved his loyalty, too. Perhaps even more so.

"He is your king, not just your family." Elrond said it aloud to remind himself. "You owe him your loyalty. Your duty demands it."

But the fact remained. Orcs took Aron. Just the thought of it broke Elrond's heart. He knew what Orcs were like. He knew the terrible torture the Orcs put their prisoners through. And the other soldier who was taken, he was a young recruit who recently joined the army according to Officer Harnen.

"Elbereth, if you are listening, watch over them." Elrond prayed.

Elrond reached for his pack and took out a golden plate helm. Unlike their current helmet, this one, made in Valinor, did not have a high crest. Artfully carved eagle sat on top, its wings spread down to protect the face. On each side of the wings a white sword was inlaid with mithril, a symbol of the Silmacil. All members of the Silmacil either carried one or wore one when they traveled outside the city. This particular helmet, Captain Astalder had given it to Elrond at the King's Isle in the heart of the Dwarven ruin. Elrond never had a chance to return it and had held onto it, hoping that one day Astalder would return to claim it.

Many times, through the years, he had meant to return the helmet to one of the Silmacil, but Elrond did not. He didn't know why and was surprised when he felt compelled to bring it to this hunting party. He thought, perhaps, he was ready to part with it. He had planned to return it to Lord Gilmagor.

"What should I do, Captain. What would you do?"

Leaving his room, Elrond hurried over to the tower where Thranduil was held. He was on the top floor, in a cell reinforced with bars and a locked door to hold a backup supply of arrows. The floors below were cells built in case the fort needed to hold prisoners. At the moment, they used the cells as a storage to hold old arms and weapons.

Unlike when Elrond first visited, no Royal Guards stood at the door to the tower. Not even at the top. Instead, on the top floor, in front of a wide open cell door, two Elves sat by a table playing a game of Rose and Thorn. They wore gray tunics and trousers with worn leather armor and boots. They carried no visible weapons on them. If Elrond was anyone else, he would have thought them just two guards at rest. But Elrond knew them. Anyone who knew what to look for would have seen that they wore their warrior braids one on each side. And those braids were finished with a mithril pin shaped like two swords. And that person would know why the cell door was wide open. There would have been no need to lock Thranduil in. The Sinda would know, just as well as Elrond did, that he had no chance of escaping these two Elves.

When they saw Elrond, one of the Elves turned to him with a big smile and a wave. "Welcome. Welcome."

Baldor's smile was wide and warm until he turned his face back to the table laden with shiny river pebbles, black and white. Thoron, Baldor's warrior companion, placed a black pebble with gold markings amongst them when Baldor's friendly face crumbled. He threw the white pebbles with silver markings on the table. "Bah! Thoron kicked my ass again. Never play strategy game with Thoron, Elrond."

"Your fault. Too much thorn, not enough rose," Thoron said quietly.

Baldor grumbled, then with a sigh looked up. "What brings you here at this time of the night?"

Thoron also looked up. Unlike Baldor's warm and smiling eyes, Thoron had eyes like those of an eagle blazing with light. Elrond swallowed hard, then smiled awkwardly.

"Has he touched anything?" Elrond asked turning away from Thoron's penetrating gaze.

"No. Not a thing. Neither did he speak. Stubborn, that one," Baldor said with a shake of his head.

"You have no idea," Elrond said.

Thoron got up just as Elrond tried to find the words.

"Come, Baldor. Let's go stretch our legs." Thoron turned to Elrond. "We'll be downstairs."

Elrond flashed Thoron a grateful smile. When the two Silmacil warriors left, Elrond looked inside the cell.

Thranduil sat, leaning against a wall, his legs spread out before him, his arms crossed on his chest. His eyes were closed. Next to him, a tray of food, a generous serving of grilled meat with poached apples and roasted potatoes, remained ignored. Even the bottle of wine stood exactly where Elrond had placed it. The plush bedding the king had sent remained unrolled and untouched by his feet.

With a sigh Elrond entered the cell and sat down next to Thranduil. The Sinda did not move, nor did he open his eyes. But Elrond knew better than to think Thranduil was asleep.

The Half-elven remained quiet for a while. He knew not to talk about why the king did what he did or to convince Thranduil to trust other warriors. None of that would matter to Thranduil now. So, he said what he had kept in his heart instead.

"When Elros sailed from the Grey Havens, I knew I would never see him again. I comforted myself that my brother would exist somewhere under the same sky. We may be in different places, but I can look up at the stars and know that he would look at the same stars I did. But now…" He could not go on. His throat thickened and his eyes stung. What he had kept hidden rushed out and choked him.

"I thought Valar gave him longer life than normal." Thranduil said. Elrond turned to find Thranduil watching him.

"They did. But not long enough."

"How do you know?"

"He came to me. In my dream."

"When?"

Elrond shook his head. "About a century ago."

Thranduil sat up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I? You rarely talk about yours." Elrond did not mean this to be about himself, but it came out that way, nonetheless. Elrond grabbed at his chest where a painful knot took hold of his heart. He will never see his brother, not in this life nor in the next. "I know much time has passed…"

"Not enough." Thranduil turned away. "Six hundred twenty-five winters passed since my brother… It still hurts. If I don't talk about him, it is because it still hurts to speak his name." Thranduil's voice cracked, almost into a whisper. Elrond's eyes filled with tears.

They sat in silence for a long while.

"Does it ever go away?" Elrond had to know.

"No. Not for me."

Elrond turned to Thranduil. He was struggling to maintain control, but the Half-elven could feel the cracks in Thranduil's usual ice wall. Elrond's neck tightened as his senses picked up grief that surrounded them like gray mist.

"You cannot blame yourself."

"How could I not? I stood there and watched while he…bled."

"You were a child, Thranduil."

"Yes. I was a child then, the child who brought the kinslayers to slaughter his family."

"You didn't know. You were a child who knew nothing."

"I am not now. But another brother of mine will die."

"You don't know that."

"Don't I? But do you know what hurts more? That I wouldn't be able to do anything. No matter how skilled, no matter how old, I wouldn't be able to do everything I can to save him. How is this different from when Thranarin died when I stood there and watched the light in his eyes fade? At least…" Thranduil's eyes were like jewels in water. "At least, if I did everything I could have done to save him, if I exhausted every possible way…" Thranduil grabbed his head with his hands and hid his face. "It wouldn't hurt so much."

The moment he left the tower, Elrond ran. He ran as fast as his two feet would allow him. When his lungs screamed for air, Elrond stopped, then fell down on the floor not caring where it was. He knew what loss felt like. The emptiness, the un-fillable hole of grief. But, at least, he knew his brother lived a full life. The night Elrond knew Elros passed away, he had dreamed of his brother, old and wrinkled but still hale. Elros had looked happy and content. In the midst of overwhelming grief, that had comforted Elrond. If he were to lose his brother and knew that he had suffered, and he had done nothing to ease that suffering, how much greater would that pain of loss would have been. Elrond got up. He looked toward the central tower of the fort where Gil-galad's chamber lay.

The dawn was approaching, a pale crimson far in the eastern sky. Elrond hurried his steps.

"I am here to take Thranduil to the king," Elrond said.

"Isn't it too early?" Baldor asked. There was no window low enough for them to look out of the tower. "I didn't hear the bell announcing the First Hour."

"The king wanted to give Thranduil a chance to wash and change."

"Indeed," Thoron said leaning against the door to the cell, his arms folded. "Come, Baldor. I heard they will be serving poached eggs and roasted root vegetables this morning."

"Oooo, poached eggs," Baldor rubbed his hands with glee. "But, isn't it too early for the dining hall?"

"By the time we wash up and rest a little, it should open." Thoron followed, but before he went down the steps, the Silmacil stopped.

"Elrond, sometimes, being a friend means you have to be tough. Kindness is not always the most helpful thing you can do for them," Thoron said without turning, then followed Baldor down the stairs.

Elrond swallowed hard. There was a reason why these Silmacils were so feared and admired. Elrond sniffed, then turned back to the Sinda. He could not turn back now.

"Thranduil?"

The Sinda didn't move or made any gesture to acknowledge Elrond.

"If you want to go after Aron, then I suggest you eat first."

Thranduil's eyes flew open. He met Elrond's eyes.

"You will disobey your king?" Thranduil tilted his head as if he wasn't sure what he was hearing.

"Eat your food and be quick about it." Elrond growled, feeling the sting in his heart. "We can't carry much with us."

Thranduil's face brightened. "Yes, sir!"

Elrond had never seen Thranduil eat so fast or so vigorously.

"We wouldn't get far." Elrond let out a sigh. Thoron probably knew that.

"I only need a chance. Did you bring a weapon? An armor?"

"Guards at the gates have been warned not to let you out of the fort, Thranduil. Fully armed and armored, you wouldn't even get near the gate."

"Are you expecting me to track the Orcs bare handed?" Thranduil frowned at Elrond.

"Just follow me," Elrond said. Outside was still dark although in the east, the sky was turning crimson. "Do exactly as I say or I give you my word, Thranduil, I will personally lock you in that tower."

Thranduil rolled his eyes but followed silently behind Elrond.

Staying to the shadows, they reached the stables. Thranduil grabbed one of the horses, but Elrond held onto his arm.

"I told you, the moment you reach the gates, you will be captured and brought back."

"I'll run for it."

"And how do you plan to open the gate?"

Elrond reached inside a mound of hay. He took out a leather armor usually worn by scouts along with a quiver full of arrows and sword issued to the guards.

When Thranduil put on the armor, Elrond pulled out a large sheet and put it around Thranduil's shoulder.

"What…"

"Not one word." Elrond pushed Thranduil onto a wooden box and took out a glob of dark paste he had made in haste. He hoped it would work. Elrond handed him a strip of clothes.

"Wipe before any of it flow into your eyes. It will irritate them. You don't exactly blend in, I am sure you know that. No matter what you are wearing, the moment they see your hair, guards will know it is you." Elrond hoped the paste was dark enough to cover the golden gleam in Thranduil's hair. But when Elrond wiped off the gunk, the dye was not dark enough. But he could not leave a paste on the hair, that would look strange. Any sharp-eyed elf would notice.

"Perhaps you can get me a helmet." Thranduil looked around. "We should have gotten one of those old helmets in that tower."

"I brought a helmet." Elrond took out the helmet he hid with their pack and handed it to Thranduil.

"Is this?" Thranduil touched the white sword inlaid with mithril into the gold plated metal.

"Captain Astalder's. Not too many here will recognize it, but most guards know about the Silmacil by reputation. But, even with the helmet on, a portion of your hair will show."

Without a word, Thranduil got up, then walked over to one of the horses with dark chestnut mane. When Thranduil whispered something into the horse's ear, Elrond realized what Thranduil intended.

"No, Thranduil." But it was too late. Thranduil came back with a handful of the horse's mane.

"I hated to do it, but we have no time to wait for my hair color to change. I promised her a sack of apples when they become available."

"Do you know whose horse that is?" Elrond felt chills behind his back. "That is Lord Lammaeg's horse, you idiot."

"Ah, well," Thranduil cringed. "It's good then I won't be here."

"You are not just an idiot, you will be a dead idiot." Elrond snatched the horse's mane and wove it into the pile of wet and sticky hair and placed the helmet on top, carefully placing strip of clothes around it to prevent any liquid from dripping down into the face.

"For once, it is good that you are tall and broad. I don't think they will doubt that you can be one of the Silmacil." Elrond scrutinized Thranduil up and down. Thranduil was taller than even other Noldor, so it was not difficult to pass him for one from Valinor if he had more light in his eyes. But the problem was the color. The helmet obscured most of his face, but the vibrant color of his eyes was difficult to miss.

"Try to avert your eyes without looking like you are doing so." Elrond hoped the guards will not look at them too carefully. "Don't say a word. Let me do the talking."

When they approached the gate, a soft crimson dawn was chasing the darkness of the night.

There were four guards by the gate, two on each side and two on the rampart above.

The ones by the gates were not the warriors from Valinor. Elrond bit down a sigh of relief.

"I am Captain Elrond. We are to scout the area across the river ahead of the king's travel," Elrond said to one of the guards.

"Sir! If you would, we were not told of your departure. I must check with my superior first. Excuse us, sir. We were told not to let anyone pass."

Before Elrond could say anything, the other guard gestured to one of the guards on the rampart who sent up a small ball of light which flickered twice before it disappeared.

"Look here, soldier. I serve Lord Commander as a deputy." Elrond's heart hammered. He didn't want to lie any more than it was absolutely necessary, but he could not afford to wait for the guard's superior. He didn't know who would come.

"But, he does not look familiar," the guard said glancing at Thranduil who was looking away.

"How many Silmacil warriors have you met, Maerthan?" Erfaron strolled forward. "Look at the white sword inlaid into the helmet." Erfaron pointed to the helm on Thranduil's head.

"Ah," the guard nodded. "Sorry, sir. I did not notice."

Everyone knew Silmacil ranked above any one of them and no one had authority to stop them from coming and going anywhere except the king and the Council.

Elrond watched Erfaron exchange a glance and a nod with Thranduil as the gate of the ford opened. Together, Elrond and Thranduil spurred their horses toward the dark forest looming ahead.

Angband (Sindarin. Iron Prison)-Underground fortress built by Melkor and commanded by Sauron during the Years of the Trees.

Thranarin (Sindarin. Vigorous Morning)-My OC. Thranduil's elder brother and Oropher's first born, killed at Menegroth during the Second Kinslaying when the Noldor attacked Doriath.

First Hour-Day break