It had been two weeks since the fall of Sauron and Barad-dûr and yet still no news had been heard in Rivendell. Elrond had felt the One Ring pass from existence across the distance, as the evil fled the country in a black wave. Vilya was now a weight on his finger as it had never been before, and his heart was weighted through desire for news of his sons. Though Arwen had been spared the fate that had hung over her throughout the trials of the ring, there had been no further word of her love or his companions. It would take a messenger twelve days at full speed to reach him from Minas Tirith, perhaps a fortnight from Mordor, he knew it was too early to expect news in truth. But still he awaited it impatiently, finding himself waiting in the outer yard for riders, or riding the eastern borders himself. He needed to know, even if that knowledge was only that the twins had died in battle and gone to join their lover.

-

What he certainly hadn't expected was for two lone horses to appear on the border on the fifteenth day since Sauron's fall, one rider each and a third thrown across the saddle of like some kind of hunting trophy.

When two grim-faced sons had pulled the bound and gagged orc to the ground, Elrond wondered if they had finally broken in grief, driven to taking prisoners. He moved cautiously to greet them in the courtyard as their horses were taken from them.

"My sons. It is good to see you." He greeted warmly, ignoring the third for a moment.

"Father." Elrohir smiled and embraced his father warmly. Elladan followed suit and then they both stood back and, glancing once at each other they looked down on the orc. The creature knelt between them on the floor, wrists bound behind its back and ankles tied. It glared at the ground, not even bothering to look up at the elf stood before it. Elrohir stepped forwards first.

"Father, we must ask your aid in a matter most desperate and confusing."

"Would it have something to do with the dark soul you have brought into this place of peace?"

"You do not recognise the one that accompanies us?" Elladan asked.

"It is an orc, there is nothing there for me to recognise. All orcs I have met with have found their years shortened."

"You have not met this orc before, Father, look again."

"Then why do you ask me if I recognise him?" Elrond asked, beginning to get irked by his sons' questioning.

"Look into his eyes, Father. Please." Consenting to Elrohir's plea, Elrond knelt before the creature on the ground, flinching at the vile feel of sandpaper-rough skin beneath his fingers as he pulled its chin up to meet his eyes. The orc snarled up at him through the gag. Its eyes were blue. Very blue.

Elrond pulled away and turned on his heel so that he was no longer witness to the terrifying reality that now faced him.

"We are not wrong then?" Elrohir asked softly.

"Why?" Elrond hissed, turning again. "Why have you brought this... thing here, when it should have died upon the battle field, and been released from its pitiful existence."

"I found him upon the battle field." Elrohir began the story. "He had been sent to target Aragorn and I intercepted him, but as soon as I saw... I could not strike him down; though my soul willed me to end his suffering my heart could not."

"I was forced to deflect his blow, for he would have struck Elrohir down. We brought him here with great struggle, in dire hope that he is not too far gone for help. He has only been un-made for weeks at the most, for he was only missing a month." Elladan finished.

"Give us hope, please father?"

"And if I tell you that there is no hope? Will either of you have the strength to do what should have been done in the first place?" The twins exchanged a despairing look. Elrond forced himself to look back down at the orc, knelt on the floor between them, and shuddered with revulsion. "This is no healer's task. Mithrandir must be called, and the Lady Galadriel. If it is determined there is no hope, it must be you who end this. Do you understand?"

"We must try." Elladan replied, filled with new hope.

"This I know. I will treat his visible wounds; for the others, you two must take responsibility."

"And we will."

"May the Valar smile upon this most desperate task; for never before has such a thing been attempted."

-

The orc lay upon a bed in the room that had been allocated to it (for it would have been folly to keep it in the healing wing with those who had been hurt by such creatures). They had been forced to drug the food that they had given it in order to allow a closer look at its injuries, for the twins had noted many curiosities in its behaviour while they transported it across the long distance from Mordor to Rivendell. Looking over the sedated orc, Elrond found that many of the grievous wounds that he bore had been made long before he had set foot on the battlefield. These were obviously the unhealed signs of his torture at Sauron's hands. As he made a first examination, he explained his reason for hope to the twins.

"Sauron, though greatly strong, has never reached the strength of his Master, for he was only ever Maia, and Morgoth was of the Ainur. Through this I have hope that his attempt to recreate his Master's achievement has been less thorough. A month is too short a time to destroy a soul truly, or so I would think."

"He is strong, they would have had to fight long with him to make him surrender his soul to them."

"Yes. Yes, let us keep our hope for now. But for now I would have you leave, while I treat his wounds."

"We would rather stay."

"We fear leaving him."

Came the dual reply.

"Do you fear I would take him from you even now?"

"No!" Came Elrohir's offended reply.

"Maybe." Elladan answered more truthfully.

"Stay then, but I would have you stay at the side of the room. This is no show for your eyes." The twins said nothing, only moved to the side to give their father room.

Starting at the orc's feet, the Rivendell Lord divested it of heavy leather boots and leather leggings, throwing the disgusting articles - caked in dirt and blood - into a basket in the corner for disposal. The twins had told him that they suspected it had been wounded in the fighting, for it walked with an uncomfortable gait. Revealing the abused limbs beneath the stained leather, Elrond was amazed the creature had been able to walk at all. There was no open wound that he could treat directly, but by the twisted, distorted bone it looked as if he would have to reset both legs if he were to have any hope of righting the damage done. Filing away that for future action, the elf moved on with his examination.

He was forced to cut the heavy leather tunic from the thin form, the material was so stiff with grime. The undershirt and armoured mittens followed after, and the orc was displayed for all to see, bearing the harsh marks of his master. The first sight that caught Elrond's attention was the mutilated hands, previously hidden beneath the bulky gloves. His breath caught in his throat and he fought the impulse to turn away at the sight of such a personal attack. If there had ever been any doubt in his mind before, there was none now. His sons needed him to be strong, he reminded himself. He would be strong. He took a moment to look over the wounds, already knowing that there would be nothing he could do. Elves could heal much hurt, but they could not re-grow appendages. Moving up the body before him he ignored all of the scars across the chest and shoulders. None of the wounds were open and there was nothing he could do about the scarring. There was a gasp and a sob from behind him and Elrond realised that he had been blocking the twin's view of its hands until that moment. Turning, he found Elrohir with his head buried in Elladan's shoulder, sobbing softly as Elladan watched his father with a pale face.

"You should be spared this, please. You need only go into the hall." Elrond pleaded.

"No." Elrohir responded, turning back to face him, face reddened with tears. "We must be here." Elladan kept a tight hold on his brother.

"We stay." Nodding despite his disapproval, Elrond continued.

-

"There are two things that concern me." Elrond told them as he herded them out of the room, locking it behind him. "I fear his eyes have been poisoned, for there is a distortion there. This I can treat, but it must be done quickly, for the effects become permanent after a short time."

"The effects?"

"Light will pain him, sunlight more than any other. This poison may be the reason the orcs do not emerge during the day, if this has been used on all of his kin. I have seen it used in attacks as a method to blind the enemy; the treatment is a simple one, but lengthy. The eyes must be bound against all light for a month or more and they must be bathed regularly to cleanse out the poison."

"And the other?"

"His legs." All three winced, for the state of his legs had been obvious. "I can only imagine it was done as punishment for an attempted escape, for it is most unlike the other injuries. But we can be sure that this one happened before he was... turned, for he has healed the bone much quicker than one of that kind should have been able to. I can reset the bone, but again, it will take much time. He seems to no longer have any healing abilities beyond that a man... or an orc might have."

"Time is no problem, for it gives us longer to reach Mithrandir, and begin his other healing. Do what you can father, the rest must be up to us."

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Iridia : I'm writing... I'm writing! :p Put away those pillows. Don't worry too much about the slashy stuff, it won't be R rated in any way. (sorry to anyone who was hoping for smut)

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Split Persona : I was wondering just how long I could keep you hanging on... but I decided to be nice to you. Thankies again.