A/N: I hate this chapter. Fun fact, I write all my work out by hand before typing it up and this one has been sat in my notebook since August, I just couldn't make myself finish it. still, it's here now.

Once, as a young elfling, Celebrian ad fallen from one of the great trees of her home. One moment she had been straining to reach a higher branch, her eyes fixed on a nest of baby wrens that she had longed to investigate. The next, there was a tremendous crack and she had been sent crashing to the forest floor. She had landed poorly on her arm and the searing pain had brought tears to her eyes. Her Ada had found her that way soon after, following the music of the forest to where she was weeping.

What had followed was a blurred rush to the healing halls and frustrated lectures from both of her parents. For the longest time, tat had been the worst injury she had been forced to endure. Not any longer.

Coming awake in the hands of her captors was far from pleasant. There was a thundering pulse in the back of her skull that told of why she had been unconscious to begin with. Her wrists were bound with a harsh rope that bit deep into her flesh and a foul stench filled her nose with every shallow breath. She was being carried none too gently by a creature that seemed to delight in every sound of pain it managed to wrench from her. The only saving grace of the situation was that orcs preferred their victims to be conscious for their torment meaning that her injuries were no worse than they were at the time of her capture. For now.

All sense told her to keep her eyes closed and to feign sleep for as long as possible, but her instincts demanded that he move. She had not been alone in her capture and she needed to check on the safety of the little ones. The image of a black arrow piercing deep into Malrin's side and the expression of agony on tiny features played on an endless loop behind her closed eyes. She just needed to be sure.

There was a vicious satisfaction to be found in the vastly depleted numbers of the Urqui, the band down to little more than a dozen from the 30 or so that had swarmed them. Still too many for her to even dream of escape, but she and her companions had not fallen easily. A pang of despair sounded in her heart at the thought of her companions, most of whom had been with her for centuries, but she pushed it back. There would be time to grieve later once the situation was less dire.

Behind barely cracked eyes, Celebrian observed her captors and what little she could see of their surroundings. She could see very little without giving herself away, but it was enough to realise that they had been travelling for a while and were nearly out of Lothlorien. That wasn't good. The little ones were slung like refuse sacks over the shoulders of the two orcs in front of the one holding her. They were pale and far too still, Merlinor's breath coming in distressing little pants and a thin trickly of blood was seeping from the corner of Malrin's mouth. She wanted to call out to them, just to have the comfort of a response, but she bit her tongue and waited.

The pace of their captors was fast, but not frantic, suggesting that they had no fear of pursuit, if there was any chance of escape then Celebrian would have to be its architect. This was not a situation that she had ever dreamed to be in, but the Lady of Imladris was far from helpless. For now she would wait, but she would keep her eyes open and a battle hymn warm upon her lips.

Their flight from Caras Gladhon was nothing more than a blur to Elladan's mind. His thoughts an insistent pounding of fear and fury. Countless images of his Naneth suffering played out in his mind and lent haste to his movements. If Glorfindel had not been there o firmly grasp his arm and force him to rest a few hours each night then it was likely that he would have driven both his horse and himself into the ground. Elrohir was no different, his younger brother's emotions echoing and reinforcing his own through their mental link.

As it was, the twins were weary but not completely exhausted by the time they finally caught the trail of their quarry.

The site of the initial ambush had been a ragged wound in the peace of the forest. Dead orcs littered a small clearing around the too still form of Vunduin. It was not a pleasant sight. Finding a trail in the mess of tracks had been difficult but not impossible and they had been able to follow Celebrian's desperate escape. For a brief time, there had been hope, but then they had found more orcs and both Thalasion and Rennyn covered in streaks of mud and blood. Their eyes blank and lifeless. They had found a worrying pool of crimson blood in the centre of the chaos.

Elladan had screamed his pain and frustration to the surrounding trees. Elrohir remained silent.

The twins had been frozen in place until one of the Lothlorien guards had found a second trail and the pain had frozen into a glacial fury. They had not rested since that point. This time, not even Glorfindel had protested.

The sun was setting on the fourth day of their hunt when they had caught scent of both orcs and smoke on the drifting breeze. With a brisque hand signal, the twins ordered their guards to spread out into the surrounding forest. There would be no mercy to be found this night.

With each step he took closer to the monsters who had taken his Naneth a feeling of disquiet began to grow. It was an odd sensation, similar to the pressure in the breath before a storm, and it was ne that he was deeply familiar with as it often proceeded his brief flashed of foresight. His hands tightened on the grip of his sword: something wasn't right here.

A scream split the night.

All sense of caution forgotten, Elladan raced to the edge of the tree line. From the snapping of dead branches on all sides, it was clear that the others were doing the same, but he could not pay them any mind. Once he finally breeched the tree line, the scene was enough to break the ice around his heart, molten rage swiftly taking its place.

The orcs had clearly not noticed their approach, the twisted forms of the beasts were all gathered at the far end of the small, open space caused by one of Lothlorien's many streams. Their distraction was quickly explained hen another scream clawed at his ears but Elladan could only freeze at the sound. It was too high pitched, too fearful. He could never imagine his proud Naneth making such a sound. One glance at Elrohir was enough to confirm his twin's own confusion, but Elladan could only shrug. Glorfindel was off to his left, but it looked like the guards were waiting in the shadows for now, ready for orders but unwilling to interrupt the twins' revenge.

The scream and ensuing cackles from the crowd were beginning to grate on his frayed nerves and Elladan was about to order the attack when another voice made itself known. Shaking with both fury and repressed fear as it was, it was still easy to recognise the melodic tones of his Naneth. For a second he was able to relax (she was alive! She was conscious!) until his stressed mind finally worked out just what exactly she was shouting.

"Let them go! Let them go, you damned beasts! Do what you want with me, but do not touch the children. Let. Them. Go."

Each word bloomed with enough power that Elladan shuddered, but it seemed to have little effect on the gathered orcs other than to stun them momentarily. He could feel his confusion growing however, just what was going on here? Children?

A sliver of ice slid down his spine as he remembered Faelyn's gasped confession. The had thought him delirious when he had spoken of 'little ones' but if he was not… they had to move. Now.

Not even bothering to signal the others, the heir of Imladris nocked an arrow, loosing it in the next breath to find its home in the neck of the Urqui closest to his Naneth's voice. Elrohir and Glorfindel must have done the same as three orcs had crumpled to the ground before the others spooked.

All told, there had been fewer Urqui than they had expected when they had set out. Too many for the twins to take by themselves perhaps, but with the addition of their tutor and two guards of the golden woods, it was closer to a route than even a skirmish. Each creature that fell and did not rise again was a soothing balm to his ire and Elladan allowed himself to fall into the battle instincts he had honed over centuries. Duck. Slash. Twist. Block. A deadly dance that made lightning dance through his veins until a choked noise made him freeze.

Of the dozen orcs they ad counted from the trees, only two were left standing, each of them holding a pale form in front of them. Elladan's eyes were immediately locked on the one on the left, the one holding a wicked knife to his Naneth's barred throat. The woods fell silent. Elrohir had an arrow aimed at the head of one, a guard had one trained on the other, but neither dared to move, unsure if their arrows would fly swifter than the beasts could react.

This was… this was something he couldn't deal with. What orders should he give here? What orders could he give when he couldn't bring himself to look away from his Naneth's widened eyes? Normally, this would be where Glorfindel would take charge, his great experience giving him the confidence to act when the younger lord dared not but… from the corner off his eye, Elladan could just make out how the warrior had grown sickly pale, his eyes fixed on the other hostage that Elladan couldn't even bring himself to acknowledge just yet. There would be no help from that quarter.

The Urqui laughed (a broken, unsettling noise that Elladan never wished to hear again) breaking the standoff. From the uncomfortable flinch of Celebrian, it had also pressed the blade closer to her neck.

"One step closer and we slit their scrawny, little throats."

Elrohir hissed a curse through his teeth but no one else dared move. A trickle of blood began to seep down his Naneth's throat.

"You are outnumbered and surrounded. Let them go and we shall allow you to run back to your master."

It was a lie, but it was the only thing he could offer in this moment. The only thing that might persuade the creatures to lower their guard.

"Such pretty lies, but we have what we want."

The smile was like a crack forming in the sticky crust of a bog. The child whimpered in the other orc's hold, but Elladan refused to look, turning the words over in his head instead.

Had what they wanted? What could that possibly mean? Unless… the number of orcs at their borders had increased dramatically over the last century. They had considered it the work of an Urqui war lord growing ambitious but had disregarded their presence. No roving band of orcs could pierce the wards of Imladris, not with his Adar's magic, bolstered by the power of Vilya, keeping the valley hidden. But… if there was something more at work here then… Imladris' strongest protection was from its Lord's strength of will and if something happened to weaken that, then the valley, one of the last havens of the elves, could fall. Something like the pain of a severed marriage bond…

Elladan's jaw was begging to ache with how hard it was clenched and he forced himself to relax. Dark creatures lied as easily as they breathed and now was not the time to lose himself in speculation, especially when any distraction could prove costly. No, now he had to focus on the present and ignore the tugging of future strands on his vision.

"So you say, but even you know that we will never allow this. Release your hostages and I will make your deaths painless, refuse and I will ensure you beg before the end."

Glorfindel's uncharacteristically dark voice send a shiver down his spine. Rougher than he had ever heard and burning with fierce promise that was so unlike the sunny Lord that Elladan unwillingly looked his way. That noble face was stormy and twisted in a look of pure fury directed at the beast holding the child captive. It was a brutal reminder that here was an Elf forged in the bloodshed and horror of the First Age.

Clearly the orcs did not recognise this as the larger of the two began to laugh once again. The unpleasant sound bounced off of the trees around them, driving the tension in the elves even higher and higher until… it stopped.

A gurgling, choking noise took its place.

"You blasted runt!"

The other was distracted for a second, but that was enough. An arrow was lodged in the eye of the Urqui and Naneth pulled away with a sharp cry.

She was free. She was safe.

Elladan felt his sword arm drop, all the tension fleeing from his muscles as he was finally able to breathe again. Around him, the Galadrim lowered their bows and Elrohir fell to his knees. The desperate fear that had driven them for the last few days was gone. They could relax their guard. But not Glorfindel. Nor could Naneth and, with a worried cry, the pair rushed back to the other Urqui, the one who had been holding the child. Berating himself for forgetting, even momentarily, about their victim, the young Lord turned only to freeze in place.

The corpse with a dagger lodged in its lung was easily ignored. What was not was the lip form cradled tenderly in Glorfindel's arms. It was hard to tell from his position, but Elladan would guess that the little one was no more than two years old from the size of the too small hand that rested on the ground. Even as he watched, a dark trail cut a path down those splayed fingers, glistening wetly in the moonlight. The fresh scent of blood made him gag at the implications.

"Are they…"

He could not bring himself to finish that question, fearing what those words might bring into being.

"It's faint, but he breathes. His heart still beats strongly."

That was a relief, forcing back the images that had begun when he remembered the scream that had drawn them here. The child had suffered greatly and it was enough to make his heart twist, but there would be recovery. Edain children were resilient, far more than the Eldar in some ways. He would recover.

A stifled sob drew his attention back to his Naneth and he dropped his sword to dart to her side and draw her into a comforting embrace. It was only once his arms wrapped around her shivering form that two thoughts hit him: Naneth was cold to the touch, which was extremely concerning; she was also holding something. Someone.

Pulling back as far as he dared, Elladan found himself staring into pale eyes that glittered with both tears and pain. There was a second child.

"Nana?"

In any other situation he would have been ashamed at how much he sounded like an elfling in that moment but it was suddenly dawning on him just how small his Naneth was. Just how close they had come to losing her…

Something in his voice must have broken through her daze as her head came up and her free arm locked around him. The newly approaching Elrohir fared no better and soon the twins were trapped in their Naneth's relentless grip. They held her back just as tightly.

"Oh my loves! My little stars! You're here!"

"We're here. You're safe now Nana. You're safe."

The words were thickened by the tears streaming down Elrohir's face, but it was still better than Elladan who could only bury his face in their Naneth's silvery hair. The stench of orcs was an unwelcome reminder, but beneath that were the faint wisps of lavender that had always soothed them after nightmares. That, more than anything, convinced his racing pulse to slow.

The twins would have likely remained there for the rest of the night, uncaring for the rest of the world now that their Naneth was back within their arms, if it hadn't been for the muffled squeak of a cough that instantly had all of them freezing. The twins themselves were too young to recognise the sound from anything more than stories of the dark days, but for the older elves present it was something out of a nightmare of a time thought long forgotten. In the blink of an eye, Elladan found himself pushed aside as the Galadrim rushed to check on the small form that could now be seen in Celebrian's free arm.

It was a long held belief of the Edain that elves were created to be 'perfect' creatures and that, as such, they were immune to all such dangers as mortals faced. They were only partially right. A side effect of the magic woven into their very fea did indeed mean that the firstborn rarely suffered from illness unless they were greatly weakened by some wound. The trade off for this was that they were uniquely vulnerable in ways that the second born could never understand; their fea did not suffer ill treatment easily.

In the First age of the Sun it was discovered that elflings were particularly sensitive to the turmoil around them; their young fear having little defence against the darkness of Arda marred when not properly sheltered by the adults around them. By the time healers had discovered the cause of those blood filled coughing fits, there had already been a tail of too small cairns left in their wake. It was a curse thought long conquered and left to the bloody past and yet…

More coughing.

Finally forcing back the shock, Elladan put aside the thoughts of a warrior and immediately slipped into the mindset of a healer that his Adar had so painstakingly beaten into him. Pushing past the fussing guards, he managed to get his first true look at his patient.

She was tiny.

It was that thought that kept on echoing through his mind even as he worked to catalogue the little one's injuries. Olive toned skin a few shades darker than his own (the mark of Noldo heritage) held a sickly undertone and shuddered slightly in a way that screamed of blood loss. Copper curls, a shade too light to evoke an instinctual flinch in the older elves, hung limply over eyes that were damningly shut and blended in with the streaks of red around the baby elleth's open mouth. Most concerning of all was the patch of crimson beginning to bloom beneath Celebrian's hand on her abdomen.

It was not a comforting assessment.

"… but where did they come from?"

Vaguely, Elladan was aware of the frantic discussion going on above his head, but he could not listen to it. Instead he reached out with trembling hands to place more pressure over his Naneth's grip, the first few notes of a healing song stirring in heated waves within his throat. He had not the strength of his Adar (who had the advantage of apprenticing under the greatest bard of the Noldor) but he had power enough to close and open wound. It took many repeats, and the strength of Elrohir thrown behind his own, before the gaping hole began to heal, but eventually the blood slowed and the elfling settled deeper into Celebrian's hold. Allowing the last few notes to fade, Elladan finally collapsed into Elrohir's arms.

"Elladan!"

"The wound was poisoned. Had to clean it."

There was a ghost of a kiss on his brow and the scent of lavender in his nose, but it was hard to register such things. The relentless chase, tense stand off and tedious healing session had combined with the prolongued feeling of terror to leave him completely void of energy. But that was fine. Elrohir was here. So was Nana. As was Glorfindel. He was safe.

"Rest now, my love. "

So that was what he did.

Elrohir struggled with his brother's limp form for a moment, the feeling of concern beginning to grow until the he was able to spy the glazed look in half closed eyes and feel the gentle puffs against his neck. Reassured that his brother was only sleeping, he was able to lift his gaze tohis Naneth and the impossibility in her arms.

"Nana?"

Unlike his twin, Elrohir felt no shame in the childishness of his voice for, indeed, he felt very much the bewildered elfling, pleading with his parents for things to make sense once again. The tone was enough for Celebrian's own gaze to come up and meet him with a wan smile.

"Strange have been events of late, my little one. But perhaps they will be better now."

It was a weak comfort, one that had him clutching the warmth of his brother close to confirm that he was still there. Still, he nodded along and forced a smile, wanting to believe, as he once had, that his parents would make everything better. A pretty lie,, but one to hold on to none the less.

"I would normally advocate for waiting until Ellladan awakens, but I fear that medical attention is necessary as soon as possible."

Glorfindel's voice was soft but firm in the silence and, when Elrohir glanced in his direction, he saw that the warrior was cradling the other babe as though they were the most precious treasure in all of Arda.

"Our horses are not far from here though I would prefer to give them more time to rest. We pushed them hard on our hunt."

And it was true, they had spared little thought for their mounts so absorbed were they in tracking the orcs. They would need time to recover before making the journey back to the city, it would be cruel to do otherwise. Apparently reading his thoughts on his face, Glorfindel sighed, clutching his burden all the tighter.

"I know, but I fear that we cannot afford them this. The elflings need care and they need it now. If we are lucky, we will meet your father on our journey. If not, then they will need every moment we can give them."

Conceding the point, Elrohir pushed himself to his feet, struggling for a second to balance the dead wait of his brother on his shoulders. Beside him, his Naneth copied the movement, her movements less fluid than normal as she shushed the too still form in her arms. Before he was forced to negotiate moving with his sleeping twin, one of the Galadrim came to Elrohir's other side, moving to support the extra weight. It was a good thing that they did as, in the next second, Celebrian stepped forward and Elrohir would have collapsed to the ground without the aid.

His Naneth's back was a mess.

Her pale travelling gown was muddied and ripped in ways that spoke of poor treatment, but worse still were the numerous tares that crossed her back over and over. The stains there were darker and glistened in the half light in a manner that screamed the agony that the Lady herself would not show.

Gall built in his throat as he took a stumbling step forward. He couldn't bring himself to speak, but all concerns for the horses fled in the face of this new cruelty. Glorfindel was right.

Silently, Elrohir began a prayer to Varda, hoping beyond all hope that they would meet Adar's company soon. This was not a situation he would be able to handle on his own.

A/N: The idea for the elfling illness is shamelessly borrowed from Maunakea's 'Missing Threads' over on AO3. Go check it out!