In the Hall of Lord Celeborn
Chapter Four

Celemedril led the way into Celeborn's hall. Eomeril, face hidden, followed closely. But only Galadriel awaited them. She stood to welcome her foster sons home.

Celemedril paused for a moment as if preparing himself, then strode forward to kneel before his lady.

"My Lady, I promised to find my brother and bring him home. This I have done." Celemedril's head remained bowed as he continued. "Yet I failed to accomplish your will. In my pride and anger I drove Eomeril to leave, consumed with vengeance and shame. I followed but I found him too late. He has paid a terrible price for my sins against him. Even Eloessa will not forgive me this."

His last words echoed in the silence of the hall. "I surrender myself to your justice, Lady. To whatever fate thou wilt."

"A noble speech, my brother. But you take too much upon yourself." Eomeril's voice, cold as a wind off the frozen mountain, broke the uneasy quiet after Celemedril spoke.

"Whatever debt existed between us was canceled when you found me in the dungeons of Dalkur. Be assured that never again will you be called upon to take responsibility for me. Soon you will be relieved of my company for good."

Celemedril might have spoken but Galadriel stopped him with a look. "Peace! There will be no talk of judgement here, in the hour of your homecoming." She held her hand out to her foster son. "Come to me, Eomeril. Your spirit cries out in trouble."

Eomeril, with some hesitation, took a few steps in the direction of her voice. Galadriel moved toward him at the same time and he stumbled when he sensed how close she was. She reached to steady him, shocked at his clumsiness, for his grace in the dance had been legend amongst the maidens. Eomeril straightened at her touch, his head turned away.

But this Galadriel would not permit, slowly pushing the hood back from his face. A quick intake of breath was the only sound she made. Gently, gently, she traced Eomeril's ruined features. He jerked at first, then stilled. Her fingers trembled as she touched the burned, puckered flesh where his left eye once had been. A terrible slash scored his cheek upward to his right eye, which was clouded and sightless.

"Oh, Eomeril." Galadriel smoothed her hand over his scarred face. "How you suffered. And not in this only...." Her voice trailed off, then strengthened. "I will send our best healers to you as soon as you are settled." Though she feared there was little that could be done.

"Now, my dears, I fear I must add to your grief." Galadriel drew Eomeril with her by the hand to stand near his brother. Even after millenia of war and betrayal she knew of no easy way to deliver news such as this. She paused a moment, then said gently, "Eloessa died late last winter, giving birth to her son."

A shocked silence greeted her pronouncement. Celemedril turned pale, crying out. "No! This cannot be...it is a mistake, a lie! What happened?"

Galadriel did not take offense at the insult, knowing it rose out of the first anger of a raw grief. "It is no mistake. There was an accident and Eloessa was badly injured. We tried everything we could but she put forth all her strength to deliver the baby."

"I loved her as my own." Galadriel whispered, almost to herself. "And I could not save her."

Celemedril turned away, but she knew he wept. Eomeril remained silent, his ravaged face grim and hard, as if carved in stone.

Galadriel believed there was little she could do for the brothers. "I will leave you alone now. But only for a short while. There are decisions to be made, and soon." She turned to go, wondering what strength remained to the brothers for what must happen next.

Then she saw Eomeril reach out, grope blindly for his brother's shoulder and grip it in comfort. Celemedril reached up to grasp his brother's hand and hold it tightly.

Galadriel left the room silently. Perhaps there was still hope for them.

Elladan walked beside Elrohir through the city in answer to their grandfather's summons. They were silent; each preoccupied with thoughts of the interview to come.

Elladan did not look forward to Lord Celeborn's displeasure at Elrohir's stubborness. Celeborn took a dim view of those who willfully disobeyed him. And Elrohir would need his grandfather's good will in the confrontation to come.

A confrontation that, by the instruction of their father, Elladan was about to set in motion.

Haldir awaited the twins at the top of the talan stair. Rather than taking them to the main hall, he conducted them to an alcove formed by huge intertwined branches of the mallorn tree.

Elrohir wondered at this. When his grandfather had a point to make, the sublime majesty of his reception chamber usually provided an excellent backdrop. But Celeborn was canny enough to keep a supplicant off balance by doing the unexpected. Elrohir knew he would have to step warily.

Lord Celeborn sipped from a carved wooden goblet as the party entered. He waved them forward. "Elladan. Elrohir." He set the cup on a nearby table. "How kind of you to make the time to join me. Haldir assures me I should be grateful that you took the opportunity to tidy up before making an appearance."

Elrohir glanced at Haldir who was trying his best to appear invisible. No help there, he thought. He realized his grandfather expected a response. "The delay was advisable, my lord."

Celeborn frowned at Elrohir. "Where is the boy? You were instructed to bring him with you."

Elrohir chose his words with care. "Eloessa's brothers will be dealing with their grief for a time. Emotions may run high. Dunthalion does not need to be exposed to that. His uncles shall meet him later."

"The child resides in Lorien and is subject to my will," said Celeborn evenly. "As are you while you stay here, Elrohir."

"The child has a name, Grandfather. It is Dunthalion and he is my son." Elrohir said, straightening and meeting Celeborn's gaze. "I am the authority on what is best for him. There is no good reason for him to be here."

Celeborn considered his grandson a moment, then gestured to Haldir. The March-Warden stepped forward and bent his head to receive Celeborn's low- voiced instructions. Elrohir watched but could see no change in Haldir's closed expression. Haldir bowed and left the alcove without a word.

"We will leave that aside for now." Celeborn waved his hand as if to dismiss the momentary clash of wills. "Early this morning, Galadriel informed Eloessa's brothers of her passing. I do not wish to intrude on their grief, but there is much that needs to be discussed. Come." The Lord of Lothlorien left the alcove, not looking to see if his grandsons accompanied him.

Glancing ruefully at each other, they followed Lord Celeborn into his hall.

The Counsel of Lord Elrond

Eloessa's brothers appeared to have been alerted to the coming of Celeborn. Celemedril stood at attention, his face pale but composed. Eomeril had put his hood back up.

Celeborn approached his foster sons with measured tread. He stopped only inches away. No one spoke for several moments.

Then Celeborn said simply, "Eomeril," and waited.

After a long moment Eomeril swept the hood back from his face, throwing his head up in defiance. Celemedril drew near to his brother in silent support.

Eomeril sensed his foster father's gaze upon him but could not see the rage, cold as the grinding ice of the north, which glittered in the eyes of his lord.

"The one who did this," Celeborn's voice hardened. "He is dead?"

"By my own hand," Celemedril spoke for the first time. Eomeril made a small movement as if in remembered pain, then stilled.

"Good." Celeborn said. He turned and walked to his carved wooden chair.

"The one who gave the order still lives," Celemedril said. "But he will not escape my reckoning in the end."

"It may be fated that he will meet his doom at your hands. But not today," Celeborn admonished as he sat. "The blessing of the Valar has brought you safe home. Yes, I say safe," he acknowledged Eomeril's scars with a look. "For while there is breath still in the body, there is a life to be lived with honor and courage. You both are needed here, now and for some time to come."

Celeborn surveyed the four Elves in front of him. Even in the twilight of the Elves in Middle Earth, each of them was worth many dozens of the knights of Men, in strength, skill and valor. In his grandsons, ran the blood of the highest Eldar in Middle Earth and the noblest Houses of Men. Celeborn had long known their fortunes were intertwined with the very fate of Middle Earth.

His fosterlings, sons of one born in the noontide of Valinor itself, were mighty indeed. But only now were the forces that drove their destinies beginning to coalesce about them. The sons of Gilrond would need an anchor in the coming storm.

Celeborn might be able to provide it, but the cost would be high-for them all.

For some time, Celeborn sat unmoving, observing the songbirds dive and soar outside his window. His four waiting listeners looked at each other and shifted their feet, suddenly feeling much younger than they were.

Still watching the aerial display amongst the leaves of Lorien, Celeborn mused, "I remember when the four of you were boys and well nigh inseparable, especially before your sisters were born."

"You were the object of every maiden's pursuit," Celeborn said dryly. "The delight of your weapons masters and the bane of the gate warden's existence."

Memories whispered in the spaces between Celeborn's words. In the sun dappled hall, shades of the children they had once been called out in laughter to one another.

"When my captain brought you all before me to explain your latest escapade, I knew already the part that each of you would have played." Now the Lord of Lothlorien turned to face his audience, singling each one out as he spoke. "The original idea likely formed in Elladan's fertile mind. Celemedril was the strategist. Elrohir and Eomeril carried out the deed, usually with flawless precision."

Elladan shared a rueful look with his brother, whose slightly hunched posture recalled many of those blistering interviews with their grandfather.

"I remind you now of your friendship, your honor, and the bond you once shared." Celeborn's voice turned solemn. "For now is the time when it and you will be tested."

He looked at them all. "The status of Eloessa's son must be discussed." Celeborn's words were like a splash of cold water.

"I don't understand," Celemedril protested. "Eomeril and I are his uncles. His only family. What is there to discuss?"

Elrohir spoke for the first time. "Much has happened since last we met." Celemedril turned a cold stare on him, but Elrohir continued. "I heard of the attack in the mountains and came to Lothlorien to find out what happened."

"When I arrived, Eloessa had recovered but things ," Elrohir shared an oblique look with Celeborn. "Still, I knew that I loved her and wanted to spend our lives together. To my eternal grief, I did not find Eloessa until after her accident. We declared our love for one another and for a short time it appeared she would overcome her injuries. I agreed to accept her child as my own."

"In the end, delivering the baby took all her strength. She died in my arms. Her body spent, she passed to the Halls of Mandos, where, the Valar willing, we will meet again in the Undying Lands." Elrohir spoke with little expression, but Elladan could feel the suppressed grief and tension coursing in his brother's body. He wondered how much longer it could be contained.

Celemedril shook his head in confusion at this abbreviated version of events, but it was Eomeril that spoke.

"He is not telling the truth. Or at least not all he knows." Eomeril said. "For every thing he told there are three left unsaid."

Stung by the accusation, Elrohir responded. "To unleash a flood on the ill prepared would be no favor. You will know what is needful but not all at once. Especially not in the first flush of your grief, when minds are clouded and words are hot."

Eomeril faced his old friend squarely. Elrohir steeled himself not to look away. He sensed that Eomeril would know if he did. Slowly, Eomeril approached. The Elf might be blind but Elrohir felt a vague threat nonetheless.

"Did you love Eloessa in Rivendell when you refused her suit?" Eomeril asked.

Elrohir blanched. He had not expected this. "Yes," he answered.

Eomeril came closer. "Did you love Eloessa when you let her leave Rivendell, sending her into a nightmare of torment and death?" He received no immediate response. "Did you love her then?" he demanded.

"Yes. I loved her." Elrohir said at last.

Another step nearer. "And when you held her, dying, in your arms." Eomeril said in a soft voice. "Tell me, friend. Did you love my sister then?"

"Yes." Elrohir breathed the word, eyes wide and blind with pain.

"You did not love her enough."

Elrohir heard the words but he never saw the fist aimed at him.

Eomeril's powerful blow knocked Elrohir to the floor. "It was not enough." Eomeril said again, standing over the fallen Elf.

Celemedril held his brother back, but Eomeril shook him off. "I am finished."

Elladan ran to his twin, who was already beginning to revive. Helping his brother sit up, he cried out. "Is this what your suffering taught you? To be cruel? To spread your pain to others like a disease?"

Elrohir struggled to his feet, and stood, swaying a little. Elladan supported him, saying, "If he had not found Eloessa in time, if he had not risked his life and his very soul to save her, you would not even have a nephew to remember her by. Her essence would be gone from Middle Earth in truth."

Elrohir, the left side of his face already beginning to bruise, said thickly. "I do not seek their gratitude, Elladan. We have all lost more than can ever be regained. At least I have Eloessa's son." Elladan shot his brother a look, but he did not notice.

Celemedril, growing angry in his turn, challenged the sons of Elrond. "And where is my nephew? I have not even heard you speak his name."

A swelling rage fueled by fresh grief swallowed his reason. "Do you seek to hide him from us, his rightful guardians? Or has he, too, met with an accident?"

Elrohir straightened and cried out. "The boy is alive and well in my keeping. Of what vileness do you accuse me?"

Celemedril ignored this outburst, pacing the hall in his turmoil. "I leave my sister healthy, if not altogether happy, in your care, my lord." He faced Celeborn. "But Elrohir, one who spurned her and broke her heart, arrives. When he does, a mysterious accident befalls Eloessa and takes her life."

Both Elrohir and Elladan would have spoken but Lord Celeborn silenced them with a sharp gesture. He would suffer this display to continue to its conclusion.

"I return, through torture and battle, to find my sister dead." Celemedril cried. "And I find her son in the possession of one with no relation to him by blood or proper wedding vow. The child should have gone to the care of our foster parents until the return of his real family."

Elrohir faced his accuser with little expression. Celemedril advanced, enunciating each word. "I want the boy. Now," he demanded.

"You will meet him when your emotions are calmer and your mind clearer. Not before." Elrohir said in a cool voice. "I claim him as my son and the right of a father over him. And that you may not gainsay."

"You will not have him!" Celemedril roared.

But before he could do or say anything more, a woman's quiet voice interrupted.

"My lord, I have come as you ordered."

The Gray Maiden

Elrohir turned to face the newcomer, who hesitated on the threshold. Her figure was slight and her face pale. The gray veil covering her hair signified that she assisted the healers in their duties. He did not recognize her but realized that she held in her arms a child. It was Dunthalion.

Elrohir started towards the woman, who appeared quite young, a mere maiden. "What are you doing with my son? Is he ill?" He peered anxiously at Dunthalion.

"No, my lord," she reassured him. "He is fine. He's a wonderful, happy baby." At Elrohir's challenging gaze she faltered. "I was told to bring him..." her voice trailed off and she directed an appealing gaze over Elrohir's shoulder. He turned to see who she looked to for help.

It was his grandfather. Realization began a slow burn in the pit of his stomach. Before he could find the words to voice his suspicion, proof walked through the door.

"Lord Celeborn," Haldir sounded quite harassed. "When possible, I would like to know when the task I am set is likely to risk my life." He'd barely finished speaking when Calmae pushed past him into the room. She rushed to Elrohir's side, words spilling out like stones poured from a jar.

"That-that jumped up gatekeeper," she sputtered. "He laid hands on me!" Calmae pointed at an accusing finger at Haldir like Mandos pronouncing the Doom of the Noldor.

Haldir made an outraged noise. "You threw a pan at my head, woman. Even with your aim, I could have been killed!"

"He simply appeared demanding that I bring Dunthalion and come with him." Calmae complained to Elrohir. "I refused unless he explained himself, which he would not do. He said he had his orders. Just like the night Lady Eloessa died."

Calmae's shoulders slumped. "While he kept me busy arguing, she slipped in and took the baby." Calmae looked at the young woman holding the child. "We have worked side by side at many a sickbed, Sindawen. I never thought you would betray me so."

Sindawen, now named and accused, gave a minute shake of her head. She buried her face in the dark curls of the child nestled against her.

"I think you will find that Mistress Sindawen is the not the author of this piece, Calmae. Nor Master Haldir, either, tempting as it is to believe in his iniquity." Elrohir's wintry expression made it clear the recent truce of the two men was near breaking. "No, it is my esteemed grandfather that plucked our strings as if we were instruments of his making."

Elrohir advanced on Lord Celeborn's throne, rigid with barely controlled rage. "What did you hope to gain by this charade?"

Celeborn sat and surveyed his grandson, unmoved by the challenge. "When in my realm you promised to obey me. Where is your duty?"

"I swore an oath before Manwe himself to stand as father for this child and protect him from all harm." Elrohir answered fiercely. "I recognize no charge higher than that!"

"You dishonor yourself and Lord Elrond with such self-indulgent nonsense." Celeborn snapped. "No Eldar outside the Blessed Realm has the luxury of answering solely to the duty of husband and father." Now Celeborn stood, veteran and survivor of greater destruction than Elrohir could yet conceive. "Your behavior causes me to question where your ultimate loyalty lays, Elrohir. Elrond thought this might happen and his message has proved true. Return to your flet and consider carefully what you do next."

Elrohir would have spoken but Celeborn turned away. "You are dismissed."

Elladan grabbed his brother's shoulder. "Elrohir, you tread perilously close to disaster." He hissed in a low voice. "Let us go, now. Calmae will make sure the boy comes to no harm. She is like a badger with its cub." He pulled Elrohir toward the door by main force. "Come on!"

Calmae said quickly, "I will not leave him, I promise." Elrohir, stunned at Celeborn's revelation about his father, nodded jerkily and left the room. Elladan cast a grateful glance at Calmae, a worried one at his silent grandfather, and then hurried after his twin.

Celemedril, silent since the healer had entered with the child and throughout the ensuing battle of wills, now inquired. "Lord Celeborn, what do you intend"

Celeborn's head was bent and he did not answer for a long moment. At last, he looked up. "What do I intend? I mean to leave and allow you to get acquainted with your nephew." A faint smile appeared. "I will let Mistress Sindawen tutor you in the gentle art of infant care."

Celeborn made to depart, gathering Haldir up in his wake. He beckoned to Calmae. She did not immediately come, clearly torn between guarding her charge and obeying.

"Do not allow yourself to be caught between two loyalties again, Calmae," Celeborn warned, not unkindly. "Believe that I want what is best, for us all." He held her gaze until she dropped her eyes, acknowledging his point. "But I will not put you to the test. You may stay, but do not interfere. Do I make myself clear?"

Calmae nodded, relieved not to have to choose. This time.

Neither of the two remaining men spoke or made any move toward Sindawen. Uncertain, she glanced back and forth between them. One was tall and broad, an obvious warrior. He unnerved her a little. The other was slender, almost thin, as if he had been ill. He kept his face averted so she could not see him clearly, but he seemed to bear some scars he did not want others to see. As usual, she thought wryly, it was the wounded one who made her feel the most at ease.

The big warrior had been shouting when she came in and anger still seemed to cling to him, but he said nothing.

In desperation, Sindawen looked to Calmae for help. Calmae gazed consideringly at her fellow healer for a moment. Then she nodded slightly in Eomeril's direction.

Sindawen smiled and moved toward Eomeril. "My lord? This is your nephew. His name is Dunthalion." Obeying an instinct she had learned as a healer to trust, she made to hand the baby to Eomeril. Startled, he turned away, trying to avoid the burden, but she was insistent.

"No, he can not see me like this." Eomeril protested. "He will have nightmares."

"The babe does not care what you look like," Sindawen said. Attuned to such things now, he heard compassion underlying her healer's briskness, but he detected no pity or revulsion.

Reluctant but intrigued, he accepted the bundle she presented him. The child was solid and firm in his hands. He felt a small hand grasp his fingers with astonishing strength. He suddenly remembered Eloessa doing the same thing when she was very young.

Then the child in his arms laughed. It was like the sun piercing the clouds after the first storm of winter. It brought with it the hope of spring, rebirth and renewal. Sindawen thought she saw the hint of a smile on the ruined face.

Gingerly, Eomeril traced the baby's face with his fingers revealing Dunthalion had his sister's fine straight nose and delicate arched eyebrows.

Sindawen helped him adjust the child, guiding his arms so he had a firm grasp on the wriggling babe. "He is a fine, strong boy," she told him, her voice low and sweet. Eomeril imagined it must be soothing to the ill and wounded.

Watching them, Celemedril felt a faint stirring of hope that his brother might yet recover from his black despair. He watched as Eomeril grasped Dunthalion a little tighter, as if he feared he would drop him. Celemedril observed his brother with the healer and Dunthalion for several more minutes, then seemed to come to a decision.

He silently crossed to where Calmae waited. He held out his arm to her. "Come, Calmae, let us leave them alone for a time." She looked at him questioningly. "We will go no further than the antechamber outside the hall. You may tell me all that happened to Eloessa after I left. There is much that I wish to know." Calmae, nodding, allowed her former charge to escort her from the hall.

As he left, Celemedril turned one more look on those that remained. He would meet his nephew later. For now the child worked a unique magic on his brother. Celemedril did not begrudge him what happiness he could find.

"I will not hurt him?" Eomeril asked anxiously. The child squirmed in his arms, a ball of energy and vitality that touched a deep chord within the wounded Elf.

He could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. He thought again that it was a pleasant voice, the hint of laughter like the sound of chimes in the wind. He wondered what she looked like.

"No, my lord," she assured him, "You will not hurt him. Babies have their own spells of protection to save them from clumsy parents." It took him a moment to realize that she was teasing him. The laugh escaped him before he could hold it back. By the Valar, it felt good to laugh.

"Mistress Sindawen," He surprised himself by speaking. "May I touch your face?" He asked hesitantly, shyly. It was new, this shyness. He had been confident with the elf maidens. He had known the charms he wielded, but that had been before...Now all he would have from them was pity and that was unacceptable.

But this one, somehow she was different.

Instead of answering, she took his hand. She gently guided it to her own face, laying it there lightly. With Dunthalion happily babbling and reaching up to them, Eomeril explored her face for the first time.

Her skin was soft and smooth. She would be fair he decided, with a straight proud nose. He traced from the arch of her eyebrows down the high cheekbones. So fair was she and small. His hand cupped her chin as he ran a hesitant finger across her lips. He heard her quick intake of breath but that did not stop him. Her mouth was soft and warm. The thought rose unbidden that they were kissable lips. For a moment he imagined kissing them, and that they kissed him back.

He snatched his hand away as if burned. How could he think such things? No one would want him, ruined as he was.

But then she did a remarkable thing. She reached out to him. He tried to turn away, to hide his face from her, but she would not allow it. Trapped with the child in his arms, he could not prevent it when Sindawen took his face in her hands. They were sure and strong, the hands of a healer.

She ran her fingers over his scarred face. His skin warmed where she touched him and he could feel the healing in her hands. But it was not the mending of his flesh that he felt. No, something far deeper began to stir to life.

He thought it just might be the burned-out husk that was his soul.

The Choice of Elros

Elrohir quickly descended the stairs from Celeborn's Hall and charged off at a rapid pace. Elladan raced to keep up, wondering where they headed as Elrohir ignored the path to his flet. His brother said nothing and Elladan chose not to break the silence.

Not yet.

The brothers passed through the city gates and into the forest beyond. The guard eyed them curiously but did not hinder their exit. Celeborn would soon know his orders had been disobeyed yet again. Elladan sighed and hurried after his twin.

It was not long before he realized where they were going. He'd visited the quiet grove of mallorns with its lonely grass covered mound once before. Elrohir slowed when he reached the edge of the clearing. He gazed at the mound for a long moment before kneeling beside it. Thick summer grass carpeted the hillock. Elrohir ran his hand over it tenderly, as if through a woman's hair. He spoke in a low voice Elladan had to strain to hear.

"Eloessa was far braver than I. She had the courage to declare the truth of her heart. She trusted me with that and I failed her. Fear warred with my love and conquered my will. In the end, I was granted a chance to redeem my heart and my honor." His next words were a whisper in the fading light. "This I did, though the price demanded was almost more than I could bear."

Elrohir rose to his feet and gazed still at the mound. "I swore to accept Dunthalion as my own before ever I held him in my arms. Now I have fed him, bathed him, watched him grow. I walked under the stars to tell him of his mother and sang him to sleep with her token about his throat. I am his father. My oath makes it so."

"But what of an older oath, brother?" Elladan's voice pierced his brother's reverie like a bright spear. "We stood on Caradthras together. By our blood and our mother's honor we sealed our vow to never rest while orcs fouled Middle Earth with their stench."

Elrond's sons faced each other. "Our father sends this message to you, Elrohir." Elladan revealed at last. "Imladris is pressed by the forces of the Shadow as never before. Orcs are multiplying in the mountains, ranging far into Eriador. The Dunedain require our help. Father also reminds you of your oath. It is time to come home."

Elrohir answered carefully. "I will return. As soon as Dunthalion is old enough to travel safely."

"The journey becomes more dangerous all the time. Will you risk taking an infant or small child? It may be years before he is ready." Elladan said. "You are needed now."

"Imladris will not fall while Elrond still dwells there." Elrohir insisted. "He knows I will come as soon as I can. And I will bring his grandson when I do."

"You bind yourself to this half mortal child, but you do not know what his fate will be. Will he have the choice of the Peredhil? Or will he be mortal in truth?" Elladan moved to stand between his twin and the burial mound. "Why do you think Father does not wish you to stand as parent to Dunthalion? By your oath you may already have made the choice of Elros. He is not even a full year and the child has worked an evil fate, separating you from us in this way."

Elladan searched his brother's face for some reaction but found nothing in the face so like his own. He continued, passionate to persuade. "Father believes your choice was made in the moment of your oath before Manwe. But I do not think so. You have no relationship to Dunthalion beyond affection. Not blood or marriage vow. Let his uncles take and raise him. If he had need he could call on you to fulfill your obligation as protector but he is unlikely to require it here in Lothlorien."

"Let us return to Imladris." With no response, he urgently tried once more. "We can be home before the snows fall in Rivendell."

Elrohir turned from his brother as he spoke. "Leave me. I wish to be alone."

Stung, Elladan retorted, "No, I am not fin-"

"You delivered your message like a dutiful son." Elrohir interrupted fiercely. "Now go!"

Elladan glared, then turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Elrohir alone in the grove.