Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all of her related characters are the rightful property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I am just playing for a while, I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

A Shift in the Wind

Elrohir sighed.  This adventure was not nearly as much fun since their ponies had run away.  The elflings trudged wearily through the thick goopy mud.  The fading light of the afternoon sun showed them nothing but green plains stretching as far as their keen elvish eyes could see.  True, the purplish haze of the mountains was still before them, but it looked much as it had when they had first left Imladris, and that was hardly encouraging.  He thought it was odd that none of the adventures he had ever heard ever mentioned this – the heroes were always dashing about, killing dragons, saving princesses, finding mysterious jewels… never trudging through the mud as the chill of an early spring night began to seep through their too-thin cloaks.  They had not known when they left that their cloaks had been made only to keep elflings warm in a protected valley in springtime.  It was not the strongly woven stuff the guards and patrols wore when hunting.  In addition, and the twins could be forgiven for not knowing it, their half-elven heritage did not help matters any.  They were pre-disposed to feel the cold and damp more than their full-blooded elven kin would.  Their shadows stretched out before them as the sun set in a fiery blaze.  Soon it would be night, and they were no closer to finding ada and naneth than they had been this morning.  This fact saddened Elrohir than any other aspect of their journey.  So far, they had seen no sign of their parents – he was not even sure they were going in the right direction.  Surely, if they were on the right track, they would have seen something by now.

            "Elladan?" he asked, having to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the wind that had started to howl as the sun had begun to fade into the west.  He shivered a bit and tugged his cloak closer in an attempt to block out the wind as he hurried along behind his twin.  He used his brother's full name, the one ada said that they should use in formal company, to show 'Dan that he was being serious.  It always worked for naneth.

            "Yes, 'Ro?" Elladan replied, not noticing his twin's use of his full name.  He was bone-tired, and fervently wished he was back home, before a warm fire, with ada and naneth…  Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, and he furiously dashed them away.  Heroes did not cry.  Of course, he never thought heroes would have to trudge through the mud either.  He was beginning to suspect that adventures on a whole were a lot harder than the stories made them out to be.  Heroes always seemed to have it easy – they knew what they had to do, and they always knew exactly how to do it.  There never seemed to be any heroes that were lost and confused, as he felt.  Perhaps this was not such a wise idea.  He could not tell that to Elrohir, though.  He did not want his twin to think he was afraid.  He was not afraid… he just wished that someone else could take control now and take care of everything.

            "Elladan, I want to go home." Elrohir sniffed mournfully.  This adventure was not proceeding as he had thought it would.  Elladan stopped and faced his twin, his face unreadable.  Both looked bedraggled and weary, the remnants of their mud battle still covering their clothes and further chilling them.  The braids they had so carefully worked on early this morning were in disarray, giving them the appearance of little lost waifs.  Elrohir lowered his head, afraid to see the reproach in Elladan's eyes.  After all, he had willingly joined this little expedition, and it was ill done to turn back now that things were not as easy as he thought.  It was just… perhaps Glorfindel would know how best to find ada and naneth – and he could order the Imladris Guard to help as well.  Even Erestor might be able to help somehow… maybe by counting the number of rolls the cooks made for the Guard before they left.  Erestor liked to count things.  Carefully Elrohir studied the ground beneath his booted feet, wondering what his twin would say.

            "I want to go home too."  Elladan's quiet admission brought Elrohir's gaze up quickly in surprise.  The twins looked at each other for a long moment, gauging each other's sincerity.  To the amazement of both, it seemed that they had both been thinking along the same lines, but neither had wanted to admit it to the other.  Then, companionably, they both turned back towards the west and began their long trudge home. 

            "Do you think we'll be there in time for supper?  I think we're out of honey-cakes." Elladan asked cheerfully.  During their feast on the rock much earlier in the day, they had severely depleted their rations.  They had never stopped to consider that getting more supplies might be more difficult out in the wild than it was at home.

            "Perhaps.  Maybe we will be even luckier and arrive after dinner, and we will get dessert first!"  Elrohir grinned.  Somehow, it seemed warmer when they walked toward the sun.  Now, in much better spirits, the twin elflings marched through the mud, the wind howling around them, and night beginning to fall.  Stars were beginning to appear on the eastern horizon, bright and clear in the chill night.  The stars alone would make the journey worthwhile, for here in the plains there were no trees to block the view.  The howling continued, however, and the twins never noticed that it became louder and closer as night crept over the land.

                        "My love, you are going to wear a hole in the floor."  The constant pacing footsteps that had been sounding against the hard wood floor for the past couple of hours finally stopped, stilled by this patient reminder.

                        "Where could they have gone?  Elrond, I fear for them so…" Celebrian was near tears, though whether they were tears of frustration or fear not even she could tell.  She had stopped by the balcony that overlooked the empty courtyard, and she watched the gates intently.  It was as if she hoped to bring her sons home by sheer willpower alone.  Not such a vain concept, Elrond mused, considering her ancestry.  The Golden Lady could have probably performed such a stunt.  The grandnephew of Elu Thingol had power as well, though it was of an entirely different sort.  Neither parent, however, could grant his silver queen the power to summon her children from thin air. 

                        "As a wise elf told me recently, when have you known Glorfindel to fail?  They will return, Celebrian, safe and sound.  No harm has come to them yet.  I would have known, as you would have." Elrond reminded her quietly, rising from his seat to stand behind her.  He laid steadying hands on her shoulders, and she gratefully leaned back into him.  She reached a hand up to idly twist one of his braided locks between her fingers, her eyes still fixed on the empty gate.

                        " When I think of their ponies… Elrohir's was hurt…" she whispered achingly, her control almost shattering.  Elrond's hands tightened on her shoulders, and he bowed his head against hers.  The memory of one of Glorfindel's scouts leading his sons' ponies, both with empty saddles and with frightening injuries, through the gate was a painful one.  He was heartened somewhat by Glorfindel's promise, for he knew his friend meant it, and would carry it out, no matter what that meant in terms of personal sacrifice.  That did not make waiting any easier.  In addition, he was heartened, strangely enough, by the injuries Elrohir's pony bore.  They were not wounds a mounted steed could easily gain, since a rider would have come between the pony and the creature that attacked it.  That meant, for better or for worse, his sons were not riding when the ponies were attacked.  Whether that meant his sons were somewhere else, safe, or some other, darker, meaning, he dared not to guess.  He was sure about one thing – if his sons had been hurt, he would have known it.  He clung to that fact fiercely, and with it fought off despair.  He knew he should attempt to convince Celebrian to come away from the balcony, to do something to distract herself from the ongoing crisis, but he found he was unable to do to her what he was unable to do himself.  Iluvatar help him, but he could not imagine moving until he saw his sons again.

                        "They will come home, my love.  Do not consider any other option."  He urged softly, moving his hands to draw her into a firm embrace.  Together, they watched in silence as the shadows lengthened and the sun began to sink behind the western horizon.

                        "This is preposterous." Mathorn growled irritably as he paced the narrow corridor between beds in the infirmary.  "We are being treated like ignorant children at best, though perhaps dumb servants would be a more apt description.  We have been ignored, snubbed, left to fend for ourselves with healers who probably have not seen a human since their lord's brother became one of us." His voice grew more bitter the longer he paced.  His ranting, however, was cut off by a patient, albeit weak, voice from one of the beds.

                        "You would not expect the king to come down and tend to us if we were in Annúminas, now would you?" the speaker was simply dressed, though the clothes looked slightly odd on him.  They were of elvish make, since his uniform had been torn and bloodied beyond repair once he had reached Imladris.  Maechen was a very self-possessed commander, and did not look the least bit discomforted by his dress or his surroundings.  He had always wanted to visit the hidden elven haven… he had just hoped to do so when able-bodied.  He smiled tolerantly at his junior officer.

                        "Peace, Mathorn.  From what the healers tell me, Lord Elrond is having a trying day."  Of course, he had heard nothing untoward directly from the healers, but he was a skilled commander, and knew a smattering of Sindarian besides.  He knew how to casually listen in on conversations he was not supposed to hear, and while he had not been able to pick up details, he gathered that not all was well in Imladris. 

                        "I also hear that you had some hand in it, Mathorn.  Is there anything you would like to mention on that vein?" his voice was deceptively calm.  He knew that the elven lord had always been a friend and ally of the Kingdom of Anor, and the thought that his junior officer had been so boldly insulting Lord Elrond was infuriating, even if logically he could have done nothing about it.  As he had been told, he had been unconscious at the time.  Mentally he made a note to see if there was any way to quietly demote Mathorn.  The lad was the distant relative of some councilor, and thus it was dangerous to properly put the boy in his place, but he would not stand for such behavior in his officers.  If he could not trust them to simply be polite, what else could he not trust them to do, or more importantly, not do?

                        "He would not see reason, sir.  He would not lend support to our effort to drive the wargs back over the mountains.  Surely the latest attack should have been evidence enough of the growing reach of the darkness that comes from the mountains!  I cannot believe…" he was swiftly cut off by a commanding gesture from Maechen.

                        "Silence.  If anyone is to ask an ally formally for military support, it should be the king, not you." He reminded Mathorn sharply.  "I do not want to hear of another incident for the rest of our stay.  You will conduct yourself as a proper officer, and if you do not, you will bear the consequences.  Am I being quite clear?"

                        "Sir, yes sir." Mathorn quietly replied, outwardly the very picture of military obedience.  Inwardly he raged.  The elves had obviously worked their magic on his commander – it was clear the man was not thinking clearly.  No matter, he could wait.