Author's Note: Just another chapter or so to go, now. Um, this is gonna sound strange, but I'm suffering from wrter's angst just about now (hence, the tone of the chapter) and could someone let me know IN ALL HONESTY whether I've written something that should make me cringe?
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"He wakes," someone called softly.
Elrond slitted open an eye and a grey matted beard hang over him. "Mithrandir?" he mumbled thickly, slitting open the other eye.
But there was no twinkling pair of blue eyes to greet him, nor yet coarse hands to help him into a sitting position. What the Lord of Imladris realized, as he came gradually to his senses, was that his hands were tied to a steel rail in a wagon, while he was seated on a floor covered by blankets and made soft with cushions.
And as if that wasn't insulting enough, the man bending over him was not Mithrandir.
Elrond glared at the stranger with his most intimidating stare, but as short strands of his hair were falling into his eyes and he had no idea who he was facing, he could not actually make much of an impression. His head throbbed with a sudden resurgence of awareness and the Elf Lord almost fell over backwards. "Ai Elbereth," he gasped, "Why my head? Always my head!"
Hands pushed him down to his makeshift bed. "Lie still," the stranger ordered in the Common Tongue, "How do you feel?"
"As if I have been hit on the head," Elrond groaned.
"That is good. You were."
The Elf Lord thought about that and ceded that he did remember a sudden bang to the delicate point on the back of his head where the hard bone joined the soft neck. The healer in him sent up a prayer of thanks to the Valar that the blow had not been harder for it would have surely killed him otherwise. The warrior in him spent ten seconds calling himself an idiot in every language he had ever learnt for not sensing the hostile presence behind him.
And then he wasn't thinking at all because his robes were being ripped off him and his tunic gently pushed up his body.
"No! What are you doing?"
The stranger did not bother asking for permission but began his examinations straight away. He did, however, at least have the decency to explain things to the stricken father. "I am a healer. Do as I say and your child will be fine. Do you feel any pain in your stomach?"
Elrond considered saying nothing. But as he was restrained and completely at someone else's mercy... "No."
"Any feelings of unease or discomfort?"
"A little."
"Where?"
Elrond looked at his bound hands and sighed. Eventually he simply told the stranger where to move his hand to touch the spot. "There. There is a dull throbbing, but no pain."
The healer pressed his ear against the spot and listened. Sitting up, he took a cream from a bag beside him that Elrond had not yet noticed and rubbed it into the skin liberally. "It is fine. Just your muscles protesting soreness."
Elrond sighed in relief. He had thought so, but for a moment had doubted his own skills. He shook his head and used his tied hands to drag himself up. His head still hurt, but he could bear it. He was an Elven Legend! Of course he would bear a simple headache! He looked to the rope that bound his hand- he didn't think he would be able to bear being tied up though. His heart was already racing too much for comfort at the thought of being restrained. Visions of war and darkness as seen through the eyes of a child filled his thoughts and he bit back a whimper as he remembered being taken captive as a child, of his hands being tied cruelly tight behind his back with coarse rope that had stung as the eyes of a dead soldier he had once known stared up at him.
The healer looked keenly at the dilated pupils and the sudden film of sweat and made his diagnosis. He knew fear when he saw it and he was intrigued to know why such an apparently self-assured elf would feel fear when nothing had harmed him. But that was not his concern, the man decided.
He forced open Elrond's mouth and poured a cold potion with a bitter taste over his tongue. The half-elf spluttered and pulled away, trying to spit it out with haste. But enough went down his throat to dampen his senses.
"Fly," the healer whispered hypnotically, "You are safe and there is nothing to worry about. Fly to the heavens until it tires you. Then come back down and I will give you more."
Eyelids drooped and dark eyelashes fluttered closed. The now ungainly warrior's body slumped, muscles relaxing completely as the mind began a journey through drugged corridors of wonder and left all sense behind. The healer lifted the heavy body to a more comfortable position and laid a possessive hand on the pregnancy mound. His fertility potion had worked and all was well. The Elf Lord was a good breeder, it seemed.
Aurief waited impatiently outside, his chestnut brown horse champing beside him as it sensed its rider's distress. "Hurry," the dark elf chided, "I must be away before they come after me; else this plan fails."
"If it fails, do not but be sure that King Gorrofer will ensure that you pay," the healer answered calmly, "Here is your reward."
Aurief snatched the flat pieces of paper into his hand and let out a sigh. "My debts are cleared?"
The healer gave a silent bow.
"Then I'll bid you safe journey. Oh! But one more thing! May I see the, uh, elven mare?"
The cold, stern face with its beaked nose and thin lips broke into a smile of aloof amusement. "Certainly! He will not answer you, however; I have drugged him. He was getting overly distressed."
Aurief climbed up into the wagon and sent a knowing look over the still figure, the dark head weaving erratically as the thoughts floated gently through his mind. "You tied him with rope," the Lothlorien guard pointed out, "He cannot abide it. He has an unpleasant aversion to rope. Use metal and he will be more comfortable."
Sensing the desire to be left alone, the healer waited outside, not listening to the soft sounds that filtered through the canvas covering. But the elf who emerged a moment later looked very gleeful in the morning sun. "By rights I should demand payment on top of the cancellation of my debts. Who else could have known how to move quickly and invisibly through Imladris while kidnapping its Lord and Master? A bag of gold will do it, for surely your new brood mare is worth it!"
"My King thought you might say that. Here! That is all. Now leave."
Aurief pocketed the heavy purse and laughed again under his breath. His Celebrian would have her revenge and this joke was really too good to be true- a stallion used as a mare; an Elf Lord about to become nothing more than a slave? Oh, the irony of the entire situation was worth all the risk!
He rode away, hearing the whip-cord strong voice of his business partner call on the sparse human entourage to break camp and begin their journey. But he didn't care, did he? No, not at all! Because he had a purse full of gold and safe passage to a faraway land where the neither the ruling family of Imladris nor Lothlorien could reach him. He was content. There were tricks to play in this world and new adventures to find.
And in Imladris, a host of travel-stained riders were dismounting from sweating horses in the courtyard. Erestor alone stood at the entrance to the Last Homely House, his face pale and his eyes hard and flashing fire as a certain blond Captain of the Guards drew nearer.
"I request an audience with Lord Elrond. Where is he? I bear an urgent message from Lothlorien," Haldir asked. His Lady had looked openly worried and that was all that the intensely loyal elf needed to dispense with formality.
Erestor let out a bark of unamused laughter and folded his arms. "You are a little late to the scene, mellon nin," he bit out, "I would that you could see Lord Elrond. But you cannot and that is all there is to it."
Dread gripped Haldir's heart. "He is not murdered, is he?" he asked anxiously.
A servant of the Last Homely House gasped and looked terrified. Erestor's grey eyes fixed on her for an instant before drawing back to face the Lothlorien captain. "Even worse," the steward answered coldly, "He had disappeared."
Haldir looked taken aback. "Where?" he demanded.
"If we knew, we would not have sent every able-bodied person out to hunt for him, now would we," Erestor quipped sarcastically, folding his arms and glaring as if Haldir himself was to blame for everything.
Haldir returned the look with a cool regard of his own, holding his composure even when he longed to smack some sense into the other elf's dark head. So he clenched a tighter grip on his message tube, settled comfortably on his feet and prepared to wait patiently for as long as it took.
Erestor sighed and tiredly beckoned the Lothlorien guards in. He handed the accompanying elves over to Lindir and bade him prepare chambers in the Guest Wing for them. Haldir he took to the room where the Lord of Imladris had last been seen.
"He was eating in here when the absence of a guest was noted," Erestor explained shortly, "He was naturally worried so Prince Legolas of Mirkwood and Lord Glorfindel volunteered to seek the guest out and bring him back to the safety of the house. Elladan left a few minutes later when a fire was discovered in a food storage cabin behind the house."
"And the others?"
"Arwen was dining in the dining hall with Aragorn, Elrohir and myself."
"Why was Lord Elrond not in the dining hall?"
Erestor looked to Haldir's innocently enquiring blue eyes. Pretty blue eyes, he thought cynically, I wonder how they will look in shock. "Lord Elrond was in confinement due to being eight months pregnant," he said clearly.
Haldir tripped over his suddenly leaden feet and fell crashing to the floor. "W- what?" he gasped, staring up with wide eyes and dropped jaw, "Eight months pregnant?"
Erestor grinned evilly. Oh, but it had been hilarious! How nice to see the elegantly arrogant Marchwarden become a clumsy fool! Erestor wished that he could paint it so that it would forever be preserved in the annals of time. But for now... "It is a long story and one that it is not my business to tell you. I have only revealed this much to you for one reason- that."
Haldir's popping eyes followed the condemning finger and saw what it was pointing at. And there, on the polished floors of the room, was blood. Only a few drops to be sure, but it was blood. And elvish blood too, if he wasn't mistaken. "Is that Lord Elrond's?" he questioned.
"We fear so," Erestor sighed, "Which is why we have sent out search parties. He is in no condition to bear children and torture at the same time!"
Haldir rose slowly to his feet and leaned against a tall chair back for comfort. "Help me fix this in the order of sequence," he warned slowly, "Lord Elrond falls pregnant, he goes into confinement, and now he has been kidnapped. Am I right?"
"I wish you were not, but yes."
"Who did it?" Haldir demanded.
Erestor looked confused- "Who kidnapped him?"
"No, who got him pregnant. I did not think any would have the courage to lay him on his back let alone get him with child!"
Erestor glowered and Haldir hurriedly stopped looking so interested. Rumours abounded of what it was that Erestor had truly done in the war against Sauron. Some said he was a master tactician. Others said he had been a personal bodyguard. Haldir was of the opinion that Erestor had been a shadow operative. For someone who ran a household, the steward really was too good at finding answers to questions that no one else had even had the chance to consider! He knew too much about everything around him and had an innate knowledge of elvish and human nature. Which was exactly why Haldir did not feel like becoming his enemy.
"I think you have seen all you need to see," Erestor growled, holding open the door with an imperious hand.
Haldir shrugged and strode out, waiting for Erestor to shut the door behind him and show him to wherever they were going next. It turned out to be Elrond's study, where Elladan and another guard were pouring over maps of the area around Imladris, trying to think of a logical route the kidnappers might have taken him.
"The Lothlorien elves have arrived," Erestor announced expressionlessly.
If the Marchwarden thought that the steward had been less than welcoming, the heir to Rivendell was worse. Haldir barely saw the punch being thrown and caught the wrist only through hyper-sensitive reflexes. By the time he had blinked and registered it, Elladan had snatched his hand away and stalked back to the chair his father usually occupied.
"Have I done you a discourtesy that I receive such treatment?" Haldir snapped in anger, his stoic temper fraying to tearing point.
"You personally have done nothing," Elladan said coldly, "And I apologize for my lack of control. Why are you here?"
"I bear a message from Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien," Haldir said formally, "It was meant for the eyes of Lord Elrond alone, but as he is not available I deliver it to your hand."
He handed it over and turned for the door, intent on leaving a room where his presence was so obviously unwanted. Besides which, he seethed, he was tired and desirous of rest.
"Wait!" Elladan snapped, eyes spitting fire.
Haldir stopped and turned, every fluid line of his body tensed against the insulting mistreatment of his station. True, he was not the son and heir to a land like Imladris as Elladan was, but as the trusted emissary of the Golden Wood he deserved to be treated with some measure of respect. Where insult was done to him personally, it was done to the Lord and Lady he represented.
But Elladan was abruptly forgetting his anger as his stunned eyes scanned the page in front of him. Tersely excusing the guard he had been conversing with from the room, he called Erestor to read it with him. Haldir watched with intrigue stirring reluctantly in his breast.
"Has Lothlorien not received our messenger?" Elladan demanded, looking up from the letter in his hand.
"We have received no word from Imladris since the Lady Arwen sent assurance of her safe arrival back to her home," Haldir answered readily, his brow creasing in thought. As far as he remembered no messenger had arrived, and he would know if anyone had!
"That was in early spring, not even before the snow was fully melted. Ada was furious with Arwen for travelling in such weather; I remember that. Yet how can that be- we sent the messenger only four months ago," Elladan wondered out loud.
Erestor watched in some concern and heartache as the young elf raised a hand to rub at his knitted brow, frowning slightly as he concentrated on the thoughts in his head. It was by far too much like seeing the Lord of Imladris sort through some tricky situation. And it broke the steward's heart to know that Elrond had never wanted Imladris to burden his sons' shoulders while they were yet so young.
"Well, Elladan, it might have something to do with the fact that one of our own messengers came back robbed of his message," Haldir put in. Two pairs of grey eyes snapped up to look at him with shock and curiosity. "The Lady Galadriel sent a messenger to Imladris two months ago. He disappeared for five weeks and then returned injured. The message was taken from him and was therefore unable to be delivered; hence, he made his way back to us. Lord Celeborn insisted that I bring this one personally, with a contingent of guards to speed my way."
"We owe much to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Erestor said sadly, "They have been to much trouble on our behalf. But I am afraid that they are still too late. The letter warns of deceit and trickery resulting in the possible harm of Lord Elrond and his child. Unfortunately, now that we cannot prevent it, the letter gives us no information on how to remedy this mess."
Haldir felt the frustration of failure on his Liege Lord's behalf. There was no longer any accusation or hostility in the eyes of either Erestor or Elladan, but their heavy sorrow and loss of hope were as needling as their anger had been. He felt he needed to do something to redeem Lothlorien, stupid as the idea seemed- "If you will permit me, my men and I will stay and assist you. I will send two back to Lady Galadriel bearing the tragic news and the rest will report to you for their orders immediately."
Elladan flushed and waved a hand as he bent back over the maps. "Nay, tomorrow morning is soon enough. You have ridden hard and valiantly and need rest. Besides," he added, looking up with a bitter half-smile, "Ada will half-kill me if I send you back to Lothlorien too exhausted to return to your duties."
Haldir answered it with a smile of his own and let Erestor lead him to a room where he could sleep for a while.
And out in the woods, Legolas found the trail of a brown mare that he knew very well. Whispering a plea to the trees for help, he called to Glorfindel to come quickly to his side.
The blond cantered up and slid off Asfaloth, looking closely to the barely perceptible marks he was pointed to. Nodding quickly, he gave swift orders to his men while he and Legolas mounted.
"None of your men are to touch him," the Mirkwood Prince spat, blue eyes blazing with a fury that none that ever seen before, "He is mine to kill."
"He is yours," Glorfindel agreed, "But we must catch him first. Norro lim, Asfaloth!"
Legolas said nothing more, but urged his Ithildin faster and ever faster, cursing himself inside his mind while he muttered prayers to the Valar for the safety of his lover and his child. For he could not but feel responsible. After all, he had lost his temper that night and run off on a wild goose chase when he should have stayed to protect the two people he cared for so much more than any other. And to his dread, that was the one thought that burned like poison on the tip of his tongue- "I should have been there".
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"He wakes," someone called softly.
Elrond slitted open an eye and a grey matted beard hang over him. "Mithrandir?" he mumbled thickly, slitting open the other eye.
But there was no twinkling pair of blue eyes to greet him, nor yet coarse hands to help him into a sitting position. What the Lord of Imladris realized, as he came gradually to his senses, was that his hands were tied to a steel rail in a wagon, while he was seated on a floor covered by blankets and made soft with cushions.
And as if that wasn't insulting enough, the man bending over him was not Mithrandir.
Elrond glared at the stranger with his most intimidating stare, but as short strands of his hair were falling into his eyes and he had no idea who he was facing, he could not actually make much of an impression. His head throbbed with a sudden resurgence of awareness and the Elf Lord almost fell over backwards. "Ai Elbereth," he gasped, "Why my head? Always my head!"
Hands pushed him down to his makeshift bed. "Lie still," the stranger ordered in the Common Tongue, "How do you feel?"
"As if I have been hit on the head," Elrond groaned.
"That is good. You were."
The Elf Lord thought about that and ceded that he did remember a sudden bang to the delicate point on the back of his head where the hard bone joined the soft neck. The healer in him sent up a prayer of thanks to the Valar that the blow had not been harder for it would have surely killed him otherwise. The warrior in him spent ten seconds calling himself an idiot in every language he had ever learnt for not sensing the hostile presence behind him.
And then he wasn't thinking at all because his robes were being ripped off him and his tunic gently pushed up his body.
"No! What are you doing?"
The stranger did not bother asking for permission but began his examinations straight away. He did, however, at least have the decency to explain things to the stricken father. "I am a healer. Do as I say and your child will be fine. Do you feel any pain in your stomach?"
Elrond considered saying nothing. But as he was restrained and completely at someone else's mercy... "No."
"Any feelings of unease or discomfort?"
"A little."
"Where?"
Elrond looked at his bound hands and sighed. Eventually he simply told the stranger where to move his hand to touch the spot. "There. There is a dull throbbing, but no pain."
The healer pressed his ear against the spot and listened. Sitting up, he took a cream from a bag beside him that Elrond had not yet noticed and rubbed it into the skin liberally. "It is fine. Just your muscles protesting soreness."
Elrond sighed in relief. He had thought so, but for a moment had doubted his own skills. He shook his head and used his tied hands to drag himself up. His head still hurt, but he could bear it. He was an Elven Legend! Of course he would bear a simple headache! He looked to the rope that bound his hand- he didn't think he would be able to bear being tied up though. His heart was already racing too much for comfort at the thought of being restrained. Visions of war and darkness as seen through the eyes of a child filled his thoughts and he bit back a whimper as he remembered being taken captive as a child, of his hands being tied cruelly tight behind his back with coarse rope that had stung as the eyes of a dead soldier he had once known stared up at him.
The healer looked keenly at the dilated pupils and the sudden film of sweat and made his diagnosis. He knew fear when he saw it and he was intrigued to know why such an apparently self-assured elf would feel fear when nothing had harmed him. But that was not his concern, the man decided.
He forced open Elrond's mouth and poured a cold potion with a bitter taste over his tongue. The half-elf spluttered and pulled away, trying to spit it out with haste. But enough went down his throat to dampen his senses.
"Fly," the healer whispered hypnotically, "You are safe and there is nothing to worry about. Fly to the heavens until it tires you. Then come back down and I will give you more."
Eyelids drooped and dark eyelashes fluttered closed. The now ungainly warrior's body slumped, muscles relaxing completely as the mind began a journey through drugged corridors of wonder and left all sense behind. The healer lifted the heavy body to a more comfortable position and laid a possessive hand on the pregnancy mound. His fertility potion had worked and all was well. The Elf Lord was a good breeder, it seemed.
Aurief waited impatiently outside, his chestnut brown horse champing beside him as it sensed its rider's distress. "Hurry," the dark elf chided, "I must be away before they come after me; else this plan fails."
"If it fails, do not but be sure that King Gorrofer will ensure that you pay," the healer answered calmly, "Here is your reward."
Aurief snatched the flat pieces of paper into his hand and let out a sigh. "My debts are cleared?"
The healer gave a silent bow.
"Then I'll bid you safe journey. Oh! But one more thing! May I see the, uh, elven mare?"
The cold, stern face with its beaked nose and thin lips broke into a smile of aloof amusement. "Certainly! He will not answer you, however; I have drugged him. He was getting overly distressed."
Aurief climbed up into the wagon and sent a knowing look over the still figure, the dark head weaving erratically as the thoughts floated gently through his mind. "You tied him with rope," the Lothlorien guard pointed out, "He cannot abide it. He has an unpleasant aversion to rope. Use metal and he will be more comfortable."
Sensing the desire to be left alone, the healer waited outside, not listening to the soft sounds that filtered through the canvas covering. But the elf who emerged a moment later looked very gleeful in the morning sun. "By rights I should demand payment on top of the cancellation of my debts. Who else could have known how to move quickly and invisibly through Imladris while kidnapping its Lord and Master? A bag of gold will do it, for surely your new brood mare is worth it!"
"My King thought you might say that. Here! That is all. Now leave."
Aurief pocketed the heavy purse and laughed again under his breath. His Celebrian would have her revenge and this joke was really too good to be true- a stallion used as a mare; an Elf Lord about to become nothing more than a slave? Oh, the irony of the entire situation was worth all the risk!
He rode away, hearing the whip-cord strong voice of his business partner call on the sparse human entourage to break camp and begin their journey. But he didn't care, did he? No, not at all! Because he had a purse full of gold and safe passage to a faraway land where the neither the ruling family of Imladris nor Lothlorien could reach him. He was content. There were tricks to play in this world and new adventures to find.
And in Imladris, a host of travel-stained riders were dismounting from sweating horses in the courtyard. Erestor alone stood at the entrance to the Last Homely House, his face pale and his eyes hard and flashing fire as a certain blond Captain of the Guards drew nearer.
"I request an audience with Lord Elrond. Where is he? I bear an urgent message from Lothlorien," Haldir asked. His Lady had looked openly worried and that was all that the intensely loyal elf needed to dispense with formality.
Erestor let out a bark of unamused laughter and folded his arms. "You are a little late to the scene, mellon nin," he bit out, "I would that you could see Lord Elrond. But you cannot and that is all there is to it."
Dread gripped Haldir's heart. "He is not murdered, is he?" he asked anxiously.
A servant of the Last Homely House gasped and looked terrified. Erestor's grey eyes fixed on her for an instant before drawing back to face the Lothlorien captain. "Even worse," the steward answered coldly, "He had disappeared."
Haldir looked taken aback. "Where?" he demanded.
"If we knew, we would not have sent every able-bodied person out to hunt for him, now would we," Erestor quipped sarcastically, folding his arms and glaring as if Haldir himself was to blame for everything.
Haldir returned the look with a cool regard of his own, holding his composure even when he longed to smack some sense into the other elf's dark head. So he clenched a tighter grip on his message tube, settled comfortably on his feet and prepared to wait patiently for as long as it took.
Erestor sighed and tiredly beckoned the Lothlorien guards in. He handed the accompanying elves over to Lindir and bade him prepare chambers in the Guest Wing for them. Haldir he took to the room where the Lord of Imladris had last been seen.
"He was eating in here when the absence of a guest was noted," Erestor explained shortly, "He was naturally worried so Prince Legolas of Mirkwood and Lord Glorfindel volunteered to seek the guest out and bring him back to the safety of the house. Elladan left a few minutes later when a fire was discovered in a food storage cabin behind the house."
"And the others?"
"Arwen was dining in the dining hall with Aragorn, Elrohir and myself."
"Why was Lord Elrond not in the dining hall?"
Erestor looked to Haldir's innocently enquiring blue eyes. Pretty blue eyes, he thought cynically, I wonder how they will look in shock. "Lord Elrond was in confinement due to being eight months pregnant," he said clearly.
Haldir tripped over his suddenly leaden feet and fell crashing to the floor. "W- what?" he gasped, staring up with wide eyes and dropped jaw, "Eight months pregnant?"
Erestor grinned evilly. Oh, but it had been hilarious! How nice to see the elegantly arrogant Marchwarden become a clumsy fool! Erestor wished that he could paint it so that it would forever be preserved in the annals of time. But for now... "It is a long story and one that it is not my business to tell you. I have only revealed this much to you for one reason- that."
Haldir's popping eyes followed the condemning finger and saw what it was pointing at. And there, on the polished floors of the room, was blood. Only a few drops to be sure, but it was blood. And elvish blood too, if he wasn't mistaken. "Is that Lord Elrond's?" he questioned.
"We fear so," Erestor sighed, "Which is why we have sent out search parties. He is in no condition to bear children and torture at the same time!"
Haldir rose slowly to his feet and leaned against a tall chair back for comfort. "Help me fix this in the order of sequence," he warned slowly, "Lord Elrond falls pregnant, he goes into confinement, and now he has been kidnapped. Am I right?"
"I wish you were not, but yes."
"Who did it?" Haldir demanded.
Erestor looked confused- "Who kidnapped him?"
"No, who got him pregnant. I did not think any would have the courage to lay him on his back let alone get him with child!"
Erestor glowered and Haldir hurriedly stopped looking so interested. Rumours abounded of what it was that Erestor had truly done in the war against Sauron. Some said he was a master tactician. Others said he had been a personal bodyguard. Haldir was of the opinion that Erestor had been a shadow operative. For someone who ran a household, the steward really was too good at finding answers to questions that no one else had even had the chance to consider! He knew too much about everything around him and had an innate knowledge of elvish and human nature. Which was exactly why Haldir did not feel like becoming his enemy.
"I think you have seen all you need to see," Erestor growled, holding open the door with an imperious hand.
Haldir shrugged and strode out, waiting for Erestor to shut the door behind him and show him to wherever they were going next. It turned out to be Elrond's study, where Elladan and another guard were pouring over maps of the area around Imladris, trying to think of a logical route the kidnappers might have taken him.
"The Lothlorien elves have arrived," Erestor announced expressionlessly.
If the Marchwarden thought that the steward had been less than welcoming, the heir to Rivendell was worse. Haldir barely saw the punch being thrown and caught the wrist only through hyper-sensitive reflexes. By the time he had blinked and registered it, Elladan had snatched his hand away and stalked back to the chair his father usually occupied.
"Have I done you a discourtesy that I receive such treatment?" Haldir snapped in anger, his stoic temper fraying to tearing point.
"You personally have done nothing," Elladan said coldly, "And I apologize for my lack of control. Why are you here?"
"I bear a message from Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien," Haldir said formally, "It was meant for the eyes of Lord Elrond alone, but as he is not available I deliver it to your hand."
He handed it over and turned for the door, intent on leaving a room where his presence was so obviously unwanted. Besides which, he seethed, he was tired and desirous of rest.
"Wait!" Elladan snapped, eyes spitting fire.
Haldir stopped and turned, every fluid line of his body tensed against the insulting mistreatment of his station. True, he was not the son and heir to a land like Imladris as Elladan was, but as the trusted emissary of the Golden Wood he deserved to be treated with some measure of respect. Where insult was done to him personally, it was done to the Lord and Lady he represented.
But Elladan was abruptly forgetting his anger as his stunned eyes scanned the page in front of him. Tersely excusing the guard he had been conversing with from the room, he called Erestor to read it with him. Haldir watched with intrigue stirring reluctantly in his breast.
"Has Lothlorien not received our messenger?" Elladan demanded, looking up from the letter in his hand.
"We have received no word from Imladris since the Lady Arwen sent assurance of her safe arrival back to her home," Haldir answered readily, his brow creasing in thought. As far as he remembered no messenger had arrived, and he would know if anyone had!
"That was in early spring, not even before the snow was fully melted. Ada was furious with Arwen for travelling in such weather; I remember that. Yet how can that be- we sent the messenger only four months ago," Elladan wondered out loud.
Erestor watched in some concern and heartache as the young elf raised a hand to rub at his knitted brow, frowning slightly as he concentrated on the thoughts in his head. It was by far too much like seeing the Lord of Imladris sort through some tricky situation. And it broke the steward's heart to know that Elrond had never wanted Imladris to burden his sons' shoulders while they were yet so young.
"Well, Elladan, it might have something to do with the fact that one of our own messengers came back robbed of his message," Haldir put in. Two pairs of grey eyes snapped up to look at him with shock and curiosity. "The Lady Galadriel sent a messenger to Imladris two months ago. He disappeared for five weeks and then returned injured. The message was taken from him and was therefore unable to be delivered; hence, he made his way back to us. Lord Celeborn insisted that I bring this one personally, with a contingent of guards to speed my way."
"We owe much to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Erestor said sadly, "They have been to much trouble on our behalf. But I am afraid that they are still too late. The letter warns of deceit and trickery resulting in the possible harm of Lord Elrond and his child. Unfortunately, now that we cannot prevent it, the letter gives us no information on how to remedy this mess."
Haldir felt the frustration of failure on his Liege Lord's behalf. There was no longer any accusation or hostility in the eyes of either Erestor or Elladan, but their heavy sorrow and loss of hope were as needling as their anger had been. He felt he needed to do something to redeem Lothlorien, stupid as the idea seemed- "If you will permit me, my men and I will stay and assist you. I will send two back to Lady Galadriel bearing the tragic news and the rest will report to you for their orders immediately."
Elladan flushed and waved a hand as he bent back over the maps. "Nay, tomorrow morning is soon enough. You have ridden hard and valiantly and need rest. Besides," he added, looking up with a bitter half-smile, "Ada will half-kill me if I send you back to Lothlorien too exhausted to return to your duties."
Haldir answered it with a smile of his own and let Erestor lead him to a room where he could sleep for a while.
And out in the woods, Legolas found the trail of a brown mare that he knew very well. Whispering a plea to the trees for help, he called to Glorfindel to come quickly to his side.
The blond cantered up and slid off Asfaloth, looking closely to the barely perceptible marks he was pointed to. Nodding quickly, he gave swift orders to his men while he and Legolas mounted.
"None of your men are to touch him," the Mirkwood Prince spat, blue eyes blazing with a fury that none that ever seen before, "He is mine to kill."
"He is yours," Glorfindel agreed, "But we must catch him first. Norro lim, Asfaloth!"
Legolas said nothing more, but urged his Ithildin faster and ever faster, cursing himself inside his mind while he muttered prayers to the Valar for the safety of his lover and his child. For he could not but feel responsible. After all, he had lost his temper that night and run off on a wild goose chase when he should have stayed to protect the two people he cared for so much more than any other. And to his dread, that was the one thought that burned like poison on the tip of his tongue- "I should have been there".